… but a warm heart. My right shoulder has been bothering me for some small time now (seven months). It was no biggie at first, just a bit sore when I reached up. I figured that I had slept ‘wrong’ on it, and when it didn’t get better on its own within a couple of weeks, I figured that my purse must be too heavy and aggravating it, not that I lightened my purse or starting wearing it over the other shoulder.
It got progressively tighter but I clung to my hope that it would just clear up on its own, which some problems do, you know. sigh When I couldn’t fasten my bra behind my back any longer, I thought it might be time to check with a doctor. When I couldn’t shrug off my coat on that side any longer, I thought I should really think harder about checking with a doctor. When, shortly before Christmas, I starting to get a tingling feeling in my fingertips and had a hard time finding a comfortable position at night, I thought it was TIME TO FIND A DOCTOR NOW YOU FREAKING STUBBORN IDIOT.
Naturally the orthopedist that was recommended to me was on vacation until this past Monday.
So I had an appointment yesterday, she instantly determined that it’s a frozen shoulder, checked it out with x-rays and ultrasound and didn’t turn up anything scary, and worked out the treatment for it.
Foolish me, one reason I had dragged my feet on going to the doctor is that I’m mortally terrified (in the sense of being mildly fearful) of needles, and I was nervous that the solution was going to involve a shot. Well, no worries there, and don’t I feel silly for putting it off so long: the treatment is going to be FIVE shots, spaced out at a rate of two a week, plus probably 20 sessions of physical therapy. :smack:
The silver lining is that after my first shot, she gave me a gummi bear for being a brave patient.
I have learned a valuable lesson about dealing directly with problems when they’re small and more easily remedied, although I remain a fan of ignoring problems until they go away on their own.
Aging = lavish fun.