Deflated

I went to the doctor today, thoroughly expecting to be done with the sling. Disappointed doesn't accurately describe how I felt when he said I will need to for at least another 10 days while I wean myself off of it. Deflated was more like it. I've been counting down the minutes to ditch the ball and chain and now I feel like the countdown has begun all over again.

On the bright said, I went to physical therapy after the doctor and began my rehabilitation. I am now allowed to increase my range of motion with the exercises I've been doing since the surgery, as well as doing strengthening exercises. The process will be long and slow, but at least I feel like I have some control over the situation now. My rehab consists of very moderate movements with resistance from the lowest level elastic bands. Right now I'm a yellow belt.

As a child I was very accident prone. We used to joke the Central General Hospital in Plainview on Long Island was going to name a wing after me since I was there so often. I was very flexible as a child to the point I should have had my own exhibit at a freak show. My siblings used to make me walk around doing all my freaky things at once. One would think I was having a seizure if it were not for my incessant giggling while doing it. One of my "talents" was to be able to dislocate my left shoulder using just my shoulder muscles. If only I had known how much damage I was doing with each game of freak show I played. Now the thought of using those same muscles to push my shoulder out is nauseating, however, that's exactly what it feels like my shoulder wants to do when I sleep. I walk up last night from a twitch that fired those very muscles. I don't think my shoulder came out, but what it did do was put a lot of pressure on a very sore joint. It almost feels like waking up to an electrical jolt, at least that is what I imagine it would feel like since that wasn't part of my freak show. In addition to voluntary shoulder dislocations, my other talents included rolling my stomach like a belly dancer, twitching my double jointed fingers and double jointed jaw while wiggling my ears. I know, there is no such thing as double joints, but that's what we called it back then.

To wean off the sling I was told to wear it when I sleep as well as when I go out in public. I went to the ice rink this afternoon as I do every day as a hockey goalie coach for several different teams, without my sling on. I was holding my gloves in my left hand when a little boy, who I know through association with his siblings but never really had any contact with him before, decided to yank my gloves out of my hand and run away with them. I wasn't expecting it and my initial reaction was to pull back to keep my gloves. The instant pain told me to release the gloves and he took off like a shot around the corner, so I sent my body guard, my 10-year-old son after him.

Counting Down the Minutes

Five weeks. Five weeks since surgery. Five weeks in a sling. Five weeks of sleeping on one shoulder, closing my vacant jacket sleeve in the car door, holding my camera with one hand, not being able to pick up my cat or able to cut my food. I'm done. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm at my wits end. My next appointment is next Monday and it can't come a moment too soon. I'm counting down the minutes.

The Velcro on my sling has lost it's adhesive characteristics so it pops free whenever I take a deep breath or twist. It's infuriating. I know I'm not supposed to but I have been taking the sling off at home to keep my sanity. I totally understand why they want me to keep it one though. While it was off, something slid off a stack of boxes and out of reflex and flinched to catch it. It hurt a lot.

Having the sling does have it's advantages though. I went to Florida last week and was able to get on the plane during the pre board process for those needing more time boarding. On one of the flight, I was assigned a window seat next to two other seats occupied by two elderly people who boarded a few minutes before me in wheel chairs. They were not able to get up to let me in, so I had to shimmy past them to get to my seat. The challenge was that I was only able to grab the overhead for leverage with one arm. I felt like a monkey swinging from a branch, trying not to spin around while I was leaping past them. I flopped in to my seat like a ton of bricks as I launched myself the last 6 inches over the mans knee hoping I didn't misjudge my approach and take the poor guy out in the process.

While I was in Florida, I went out with a buddy of mine on a flats boat on the Indian River. I didn't fish much because of the sling, but I did toss the line out a few times. I caught a Sea Trout on one of the casts and reeled it in on my own. It must have looked ridiculous trying to reel in a fish with my an arm that can only go five inches from my body from the elbow down. I feel like I have a little T-Rex arm or like I have a lucky fin like Nemo. It's a good thing I didn't fall out of the boat. I would have just swam in circles for hours.