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There goes my dream of pitching a perfect game

The Takedown Artist: Your Body


By Jill Kuraitis, 8-26-07

Never underestimate the ability of your body to take you to a dark alley and roll you like a thug.

In recovering from what was supposed to be “minor” shoulder surgery, I have been humbled by the temporary loss of use of my right arm, but have apparently lived to tell the tale.

It’s “apparently” because the past ten days have been fuzzy, narcotically speaking, so I’m a little wobbly on my alive vs. dead status.

My rotator cuff and bicep were all messed up and had to be fixed. At my age, it’s somewhat nice to be able to say the injuries were accomplished while lifting weights at the gym, although it is embarrassing that I clearly didn’t know what I was doing, or I wouldn’t have shredded the shoulder.

But at least I didn’t tear it by falling off the toilet, or something ignoble like that.

My bafflement over the range of motion of my arm (about 20%) and the overall pain and misery of the surgery was soon answered by the surgeon, who is a family friend.  “Well, when we got in there, you had a frozen shoulder that had to be, well, ripped apart.”

“THANKS FOR THE TERRIFIC MENTAL IMAGE, TOM.” I barked into the phone.

“It’s better than doing it while you’re awake,” he said.  “You can hear the tearing that way.”

Then there is my Physical Terrorist, Dave.  Dave is a gorilla who stretches and tortures my shoulder without mercy, cheerfully chirping, “Look!  You’re reaching a centimeter more than yesterday!”

Oh, go soak your head, Dave. 

I finally did find a mental game that has helped: thinking of those less fortunate than I.  It’s the old clean-your-plate-there-are-children-starving-in-Africa ploy your mother used.  It works. I thought of the terrible toll the war in Iraq has taken on so many families on both sides, and it became shameful to complain – as much.

What ticks me off the most is that post-surgery, the most difficult thing to do is…type.  I can brush my teeth, do my hair and eat, but I can’t type without pain. However, I am bravely soldiering on for your benefit.  Don’t you feel special?

Me neither.



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By Julie in Boise, 8-26-07
By Joan McCarter, 8-27-07

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