I really didn’t want to write about this. I’ve written several posts in the past about my back and leg pain. That, friends, ended awhile ago. I barely noticed. But now, my left shoulder hurts. Can I just say I hate getting old(er)?
The worst part is that I hurt it while dinking around.
We had just got home Friday night from our Seattle excursion.
“Let’s do back crack,” Zac suggested.
“Okay,” I said.
We turned around, our backs to each other. We linked arms. He swung me onto his back.
“Ow!” I cried. My shoulder twisted in its socket. I thought nothing of it until it didn’t stop hurting. And hurting.
I looked up strained/sprained shoulder on the interwebs. I searched for information on a dislocated shoulder. I should have a bump. I reached around with my good arm and felt my back. No bump. No hunch either, for that matter. I looked at separated shoulder, or in Susan-speak “seceded shoulder”. That causes a bruise or swelling, even deformation. I didn’t see any bruising. I eyed my shoulders in the mirror, straight on. Am I deformed? Meh. Not more than usual.
Since I didn’t fall into either of those serious injuries, I breathed a sigh of relief. All the websites say the same thing: ice and ibuprofen. Not a big fan of icing, as it never seems to help me. I stuck with the drugs. I’ve been on them steadily since Sunday. They take the edge off, but the dull ache remains. If I don’t take it, my shoulder throbs its own unique rhythm.
Now, I’ve figured out the pain source. It’s emanating from the trapezius area. So tonight, I’m leaning on an ice pack. It’s behind my left shoulder. Is it helping? No idea. Can I feel it? Nope.
I haven’t told anyone at work yet about my stupid injury. I feel like a moron for getting injured in the first place. I mean, I don’t even have bragging rights. “Yeah, I was climbing Smith Rock when my right hand slipped. All my body weight landed on my left arm. Dude, I hung on for dear life!” Or even better, “I did 90 pushups. Yep. In a minute. That’s why my shoulder gave out.”
Funny thing is, I’m learning how to cope. I haven’t bitten anyone’s head off, though the night is young. Pulling clothes off over my head brings tears to my eyes. I find myself calling on the Lord more and leaning on Him. I know no other way to get through this. How do people live with this kind of stabbing pain, day after day? My heart goes out to them. You have my respect and empathy.
Disclaimer: if this continues, my better half informs me that a doctor’s visit will be in order. I will go, too, because I don’t have all the answers. Prayers for healing help. I covet those, if you’re so inclined. But doctors can help, too.
I love the Lord because he hears my voice
and my prayer for mercy.
Because he bends down to listen,
I will pray as long as I have breath! – Psalm 116: 1-2