Since early 2013, I've had some shoulder pain. Shh, I know, that's a long time. But it hasn't been constant and has varied in intensity. And I've been to the orthopedic doctor. Twice. I've had a steroid shot that rocked my diabetic world for a few months and only temporarily took away the pain. And now I'm doing physical therapy on it.
Really, it's the lamest injury ever.
I don't know even know why or when it started hurting. I do know I didn't help the issue when I went tubing on the lake on Memorial Day weekend. Yes, I'm talking eight-plus months ago. It had been hurting before the tubing, but I was still in denial.
Blow drying my hair, taking off my jacket, and reaching behind my seat while driving shouldn't be physical challenges. But apparently that's what inflammation does to a shoulder like mine.
So, anyway, I started physical therapy last week. Yes, for the lamest injury ever.
The plan is to go twice a week for 45-minute sessions that involve deep massages of my pectoral muscle, exercises to increase the mobility of my shoulder and elbow and strengthen my shoulder, and cold packs. The exercises and cold packs are happening at home too.
I have three sessions down and I have some hope, although yesterday's appointment was intense.
So I've been trying to do what I can to nurse my shoulder back to health. Perhaps my kids will eventually stop referring to my bad arm. I realized sleeping on it probably wasn't helping and I couldn't will myself to not sleep on it given our usual positions in our queen side bed because I like to sleep facing out of the bed.
"Husband, we have to switch sides or sleep in the opposite direction."
We chose the opposite-direction sleeping. Neither of us wanted to give up our sides of the bed and the bedside tables that accompanied them. So we moved our pillows down and tucked in the sheet at the head board. I've been sleeping much more comfortably.
For a few nights recently, Ben found poor excuses to come down to our room in the middle of the night. So the first night last week that we slept that way, he ended up standing by Greg's feet for who knows how long before Greg redirected him to the foot of the bed.
Even in his nighttime confusion, Ben thought it was funny. "Daddy, you're sleeping upside down." Yes, Daddy is the better nighttime parent.
Ben was fooled again when it was actually morning and he came looking for me, the one who will feed him breakfast and tell him what we're doing with our new day.
Anyway, at least I'm not sleeping on my sore shoulder anymore. Progress, right?
I've promised Greg this sleeping arrangement isn't forever. I can say that because I have hope this is going to pass and be a funny story about a lame injury that took way too long to heal.
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