A Wee Update

My doctor called me Saturday to give me the news: partial tear of one of the tendons of the rotator cuff. And then, on learning that my appointment with the orthopedic specialist wasn't until later in the month, offered to get a referral started for physical therapy.

I have promised The Dude that however my shoulder feels in two weeks I will still follow up on all my referrals. I am mostly pain-free most of the time now, but when I move it in the wrong way - whoa. I've gotten pretty good at not moving it the wrong way but sometimes I forget and sometimes I just get taken by surprise. (And today's damp weather has me crying again.)

I don't need to share with you all the drama in my head over the last ten days about this. Especially since my three big worries have been mitigated:

1. Will I be able to garden? Yes, carefully.
2. Can I still go running? Yes, carefully. (And some exciting news on that soon!)
3. How will the kids handle my being injured? Ah, now...

That's been an interesting one to watch. The first day - when they saw me shocked out of breath by the pain, not once but several times - they were very solicitous and gentle with me. The next morning, they came downstairs and asked if I was still hurt. On learning that I was, they both came up with ailments of their own, and have continued, on-and-off since then, to reference these ailments ("my foot hurts", "my knee hurts", etc.).

Other than that D is mostly handling it in stride now... but G, well, his routines have been messed with. In particular, the routine whereby I am willing to carry him downstairs in the morning and then back upstairs at night, since I'm not willing to carry him around the rest of the day. The Dude for some reason is not always an acceptable substitute, although G is hanging out with him more now, as I am clearly damaged goods. (Which has also led to the observation that "Gosh, G can be really demanding." Why, yes, he can, and yes, he has been going easy on you all this time.) Anyways, he now asks when getting up in the morning or before going to bed if I am still hurt, and then the negotiations begin. (Will holding my hand on the stairs be enough, do we need to bring in Daddy, or maybe he just needs to sit on the stairs and throw a fit about all this. I have thrown my own share of fits about this in the last week so I can sympathize.)

We did hit on an acceptable substitute last night - I can carry him piggy-back without any pain - and so his world is once again set aright. Of course, being G, he has tried to push this - now I'll carry him on my back all the time, right? Not a chance, kid.

Oh, and how I did this? Vanity, sheer vanity... it was probably from sloppy weight lifting. I had known I wasn't being careful enough and had even stopped a couple of particular exercises the week before, but I guess that wasn't soon enough. Really, I'm 43 years old. Strong is enough - I don't need to be buff as well.

Chastened,
Annie