Shoulder Woes

Since I seem to be making plenty of comments related to my shoulder, I'm just going to get it all out at once and be down with it.

So it all starts way back in middle school. I loved to stretch, especially my arms. Comfortable for me was having my arms back behind my head and just resting them there. Well, eventually, gravity did its work and my arms could go lower and lower. I eventually got to the point where I could play jump rope with my arms. I could hold my arms together straight behind my back. You'd look at me from the front and you couldn't see any part of my arms. I have a picture of it, looks pretty sick.

So forward to freshman year of college. Marching band, to be uniform everyone had to bring their left hand up and over to hold the mouthpiece. Preiviously I held the side of the Sousaphone. At the end of the week, it stretched to the point that when playing football at the band picnic, I dislocated it tackling a guy twice my size. I did what any other naive stupid freshman would do, kept playing. It went right back into socket, so I thought nothing of it.

This started the trend for the next year. I would do something, anything, and my shoulder would pop out about once every two weeks. Wrestling, volleyball, basketball, rolling over in bed, talking on the phone. Anything would dislocate it. Once again, I thought nothing of it, as it always went back into place. I never got it looked at or went to the hospital. When I filled out my mission papers, I did state that I had a bad shoulder, which probably proved to be a mistake.

I leave on my mission. The MTC, I dislocated my shoulder 2 times, both playing basketball. That was when I needed help from a companion to get my shirt on. The next was Thankgiving weekend, playing football, I was blocking my companion and dislocated it. Again thought nothing of it. The next was the absolute worst thing that could have happened. It was playing basketball the next week. It dislocated and I fell to the ground. I tried to get up and my arm didn't respond at all, any movement sent immense ammounts of pain into my shoulder. So I assessed the situation, as it's always gone back in, I remained confused for quite some time figuring out what needs to be done. Just so you get the picture, my arm didn't dislocate down at my side, it was up over my head with no support. So first thing they do is call the mission president's wife, who oversees everything medical wise. They explain the situation, that I can't even move from where I'm at, and she says to wait there while shes calls a doctor to see what needs to be done. The doctor says to get him to a hospital now. She calls us and says she's going to get a second opinion before doing anything, so she calls another doctor who says the same thing. Oh and during these calls she tells us to get me to at least stand up. So we attempt to get me standing probably after the first hour of me lying on the floor. At this point, I had tried twice to relocate my shoulder myself, and failed miserably twice, with the pain continueing to grow with each attempt with no relief in sight. So when she finally calls back, instead of telling us to call an ambulence, she tells us to call a member to drive me to the hospital. It took us quite a while to track down somebody in the middle of a Thursday afternoon to drive us to the hospital. During this time I try a third time to relocate my shoulder myself. At this point, my pride, pain tolerance, and wits are gone. I'm trembling and tears of pain are rolling down my cheeks. For those who know my family, there has to be EXTREME ammounts of pain for us to get to that point. So our driver finally shows up. I can't fit in the front seat because my arm is up over my head being supported by my other arm and my companion supporting my other side. We have to open the back of the van and have me sit on the floor of the van, with my arm propped up on the seat. Now, for those who haven't been to Vegas, the streets are curved and have washes for water to run down. So basically, anytime we went over an intersection, my arm was being bounced up and down mercilessly. We finally get to the hospital, and I'm such a wreck that they decide to put me out to relocate my shoulder. So the entire amount of time I had my shoulder out of socket while I was awake was three and a half hours.

Now I'm in a sling and in a bike area, so we walked Naked City for a week. We got really sick of walking the Strip and all the porn bins that week. Although it was fun removing certain cards and replace them with Lamb of God cards and Book of Mormon cards. Every now and again, we'd knock over a couple of porn bins. We got a car, then were DT'd out of the area. Up to Elko I go. I keep the sling on most of the time, which I found out is a mistake when sleeping. They say to where the sling while sleeping. That is a big mistake. Their reasoning is that it will hold your shoulder steady and make sure you don't stretch it out when you sleep, but in reality, when you sleep and shift around, it tends to push your shoulder out even further and you wake up in pain in the morning. So I took to wearing it day only. I'm doing fine up in Elko, transfer day comes, and I'm to remain with my companion. He would have been my first kill. So I'm getting dressed for the day and I pop out my shoulder putting my shirt on. My companion here's me utter a string of words that I won't utter here as I'm lying on the ground punching the metal bar of the bed with my good arm. Just so you know, that companion used words like that every day, and despite my hardest not to fall into that habit, being around it 24/7 caused my to slip a lot. He was my first introduction to the opposite side of missionary life.

It's while I'm in this position that I had to make some serious decisions. Since I put on my mission papers that I dislocated my shoulder, even though I'd never been hospitalized for it, mission insurance wouldn't cover expenses. My dad's insurance had just been switched from covering kids till they turn 25 to covering them only if they're in school, which I wasn't. So no insurance was covering the doctor bills for the X-rays and the doctor's bills. So with my shoulder out of socket, and me on the phone with my mom, I make the decision to go home and have surgery. It wouldn't have been fair for my parents to pay twice as much for my mission in bills from doctors the way things were going. Anyway, my shoulder was out of socket for only an hour. It wasn't bad at all, comparitively speaking, and I stayed awake through the doctor relocating it, although he did give me something to ease the pain beforehand.

So I'm home from my mission, they released me, and the first order of business is to get back in school as soon as possible so I could have the surgery while insured. The soonest was a month at a local University. I didn't dare return to UK and visit the band and tuba studio. It was hard enough leaving the first time, I wouldn't have taken it a second time. I did teach brass lessons at the middle school, although I avoided playing anything serious. I finally had my surgery two months after being home, on May 1rst, the girl next door's birthday. Four days later was prom, and one of the girl next door's friend needed a date, so I went in a sling, without any mobility at all, and then to afterhours, where I rollerscated, played pool, volleyball, lasertag, you name it, I did it. On two hours of sleep, teaching 8 11-12 year olds at church was terrible. Anyway, went through two months of physical therapy then back out into the field. The next six months went great. Good companions, good success, no shoulder problems. There was the incident where I tried to bench press. My shoulder couldn't support the weight at all. I could lift it up, but it was all arm, I couldn't do anything with my shoulder, it was pretty funny. So I get transferred and that's when things turn to hell in every way possible. Companions, my shoulder, areas, everything. I don't remember how I first dislocated it after surgery, it went back into place, I thought that I'll just be more careful. A week later, I'm telling a story to some other missionaries, and my shoulder dislocates as I'm using my arms to express my story. Well they're listening intently, when all the sudden they hear a long string of words with me rolling on the ground in pain. Great. It's a Saturday, and I'm in Mesquite. No doctor was working in Mesquite, we did have one out of town and another iffy guy. So we called iffy guy to see if he's able to relocate it. He says he'll try. So just before the guy comes over he's looking through a book on relocating shoulders. Well, let's just say he tried and failed. The nearest hospital open is in Saint George, which also happens to be out of mission boundaries. So a couple of hours later, finally get that relocated. More hospital bill not covered by insurance. There was one really good thing that came out of it. In Mesquite they had a therapy center where I was able to go free, and meet a guy that will make a great member of the church someday. I went to therapy there for four months, mostly to talk with this guy. Unfortunately, he hated my companion a lot, so we couldn't teach him. One day he will.

Next area, dislocate it again. If you must know what I was doing, I was swimming with a part member family. A kid jumped on my back and I was trying to get him off. Fortunately, it didn't stay out of socket. I've never dislocated it in water and have it stay out. Needless to say, I never want to.

Next area, I arrive. They finally gave me a bike area, I'm not in a sling, and all is well. First P-Day, I play basketball and dislocate my shoulder again, and another trip to the hospital. That was relitively quick. I think only half an hour. Stuck in a sling yet again and a bike area, and they won't give us a car. Well, our area was larger than some of the car areas, so that presented some problems, not many though. Both of us died a long time ago at this point. We spent the last three months of our mission together and died in peace from anyone else. Not peace of mind, mind you, at least not me.

I managed to finish my mission without further mishap. I stayed an extra transfer to make up for part of the four months I was home. So I stayed out for three Halloweens, and one birthday. Everyone who came home made excuses to go home a transfer earlier to get into school, even though some weren't. So I was out three months longer than anyone who came out with me. Honestly they could have sent me home a year earlier and everyone would have been better off. But that's a different topic.

So I now avoided sports like the plague. I could play certain ones. Racquetball, a little volleyball, two-hand touch football(iffy). I play till a I feel the slightest bit of pain, then quit, regardless. So I manage to go almost two years without dislocating my shoulder. I'm working a great job landscaping. I'm doing the hedging. Basically swing a 20 pounds machine in my hand 10 hours a day. I love it. It's good pay, I'm outside, I've got a great guy I'm working with. We set it up to be easy on my shoulder, I cut low, he cuts high and it's working well. One day, all the bushes are high, so I can't avoid it. As the day continues, I'm loading all the waste onto the trailer and I grab a bar over my head, and my shoulder goes out again. At least at this point, I can control my language that my companion taught to me long ago. I still punched quite a few things. Not too hard. So my partner finishes the job, it was a small one, with only fifteen minutes left, while I sit there debating what to do. I manage to actually relocate it myself, now that I'm used to the pain, and can relax while feeling large amounts of pain so I can actually relocate it. Well, I had to quit the job, and couldn't find a job for the rest of summer. There went my dreams for buying an F-tuba. Which now isn't a bad thing, but I had only enough money to last the rest of summer, and none for school.

That's my last dislocation of my bad shoulder. While playing racquetball last month, my shoulder did some popping one time, to which I slammed my racquet into the ground, bending it even more. And then the most recent, which I mentioned was playing volleyball Friday. I went up to block a spike, and the ball at its highest, and my arm extended above my head as far as possible pushing forward, my shoulder popped again in pain. I decided the wood floor was at fault, and beat it a couple of times. I've got a nice sized swollen knuckle from it too.

I guess I should explain why I have a tendency to punch hard solid objects when I dislocate my shoulder. I like Duchess, like my independance. I like being able to do things for myself and others. I hate to feel inadaquate. I hate that I'm not in control of that aspect of my body. Any time I dislocate my shoulder, it's a gunshot to my pride, and a painful reminder that there are many things I can't do for the rest of my life.

Just so you know, my mom hates how I take it so non-challantly. I usually don't show me true interior, and if you were to talk to me, I'd joke around about this as well, and just consider it a good story to tell. I don't tell this to whine, or say how bad I have it in life, as it probably seems in this blog. I can't imagine how people deal with worse afflictions than a bad shoulder, or a busted knee, or other similar things. To be perfectly honest with you though, you can take all of my limbs and my sight, before I'd let you take my ears. But that just comes with the major.

Well, this blog has just gotten down-right dark and depressing, and I only mentioned a couple minor aspects of my mission which I didn't intend to do, so I'll stop now, as it is two in the morning, and school is tommorrow, bright and early.

So the moral of the story, kids, is to never stretch your shoulders in middle school.