I just work here

My toe is no longer multi-colored but it still gives me a twinge now and then. I am in the process of losing the nail, yet again. The good news is that it is no longer numb or too painful to bear weight.
I had mentioned to my doctor that my shoulders were giving me a bit of trouble. So for six months I was on anti-inflammatory meds. It seems that I had an impinged nerve in my shoulder. 
The doctor sent me back to the orthopedist  as soon as we got the good news about my toe. The surgeon sent me for an MRI. I fully expected for it to be "nothing" because that is all I EVER hear from doctors.
I am glad that I was sitting on the examination table when he delivered the news (even though I was wearing one of those hideous hospital gowns that never quite stay closed) otherwise I would have hit the floor.
I had a minor (very tiny) tear in my rotator cuff but the entire area was inflamed and extremely irritated. According to the surgeon I could try meds (been there, done that) or physical therapy (which is a money sucking void from which there is no escape) or we could operate. I find the "we" a bit amusing.
As I sat there I tried to find the logical course of action. I had gone to the doctor’s appointment alone so the only one I had to talk things through with was the surgeon and his assistant. The meds hadn’t worked. I did NOT want to go the therapy route. According to the doctor I could have my shoulder "scoped" and do a few weeks of therapy or I could just let things rock on until the tear was "complete" and required more extensive repair and 3-4 months of therapy.
I said, "If I have to have therapy anyway why not go ahead and have the procedure  followed by 3-4 WEEKS of therapy?" The doctor (who was in no way trying to persuade me to have the surgery) said my reasoning was sound. He did add that it was really a matter of "when" not "if". He said I would see him now or I would definitely see him later.
Reluctantly I agreed. This was on Monday. I went in to see the scheduler and yet again was thankful to be sitting down. "Can you be here on Thursday?"
"Thursday? What date?" Good grief it ALWAYS takes an act of God and Congress and every other bureaucratic busybody who wants a buck before anything can happen.
"Thursday. 3 days from now. Can you be here?"
I felt like I had swallowed a concrete block. "Okay."
This was followed by setting up pre-surgery testing for Wednesday.
As it turns out my daughter was babysitting that day. My husband was working. I couldn’t ask Ben because he is only 16 and would probably die of mortification if he had to handle anything remotely dealing with helping me dress/undress. The only other person I could ask was Mama.
I would rather walk over hot coals than ask her to go near a hospital. She has spent more than her share of time waiting and worrying. But she said she would take me.
I will shout it from the mountaintops, "I love my anesthesiologist!" I barely remember putting on a hospital gown.
I DO remember waking up and feeling like a mule had kicked me in my shoulder. The worst part of the whole thing (that I remember) was when they removed the drainage tube. If my right arm hadn’t been in a sling I would punched someone. By the time I was cleared to go the lovely drug induced fog was lifting. I alternated between gritting my teeth and wanting to cry. Again I say, "Pain meds are lovely."
Mama helped me get dressed, which was not easy due to the fact that no two areas of my body wanted to cooperate at the same time.
I continue to be amazed at the speed of my recovery. I started therapy on the Monday after my surgery. This left me sweating and shaking and I only did some extensions and lifts. By the end of the third session I was at 100% extension and they had me using weights!
I have about 6 more sessions and hopefully the surgeon will release me. I know my therapist is well trained and he genuinely wants me to recover completely but I swear the man takes a little too much pleasure in his job. I have heard some of the patients refer to him as "Lucifer". I wouldn’t go that far. I admit to calling him a few other colorful names when he is in the middle of deep tissue massage. That totally SUCKS.
I hate feeling like someone is driving a railroad spike through my shoulder while they demand that I "relax and breathe". That is so not going to happen. It goes against every survival instinct I have. If someone is causing me that much pain I need to hold my breath and RUN. That is hard to do when a 200 lb man has my arm in a hammerlock!
I do look forward to being able to lift the laundry detergent off the shelf or put a stack of plates away without seeing stars and feeling like I will lose my lunch. It gets better every day.