I’m not going to lie – my shoulder had me a little worried over the weekend.
When I wrote my post on Friday, I’d already had a cumulative five Ibuprofen, so my shoulder wasn’t feeling too bad. I’d had to cancel a drum lesson since I wanted to catch an open mic my brother and friend were doing, but if I would have gone to the lesson otherwise. That’s how delusional I was on Friday about my injury.
My first clue that maybe something wasn’t quite right was when I was driving on Friday. I couldn’t keep both hands on the wheel and turn my head to switch lanes without pain, so I had to drop my right hand every time I switched lanes. I barely had the range of motion to reach the radio. For the rest of the two-hour drive, I kept my hand alternated between resting in my lap and forcing it on the steering wheel.
After reaching my destination, I began seeking advice on my shoulder from basically everyone except an actual medical professional. My dad, a former EMT, was probably the best source of information. He told me to keep an eye on it. “As long as it doesn’t make any grinding or popping noises as you move it, it should be okay,” he said. Conrad said that my shoulder was probably trying to adjust to all the “torn joints and muscles” and that if I could move it a little, I should be good in a couple of days.
I told Tap that I was worried that my shoulder was still partially dislocated, since there was a bone sticking out from the socket in a way it shouldn’t have been. “I don’t think a shoulder can be partially dislocated,” he said. “WebMD says it can,” I replied. “…Yeah, I obviously don’t know anything dislocated shoulders,” he responded.
When I told Tap how I’d ignored WebMD’s advice to go seek immediate medical attention by just icing my shoulder, popping ibuprofen, and rolling into work, he started laughing and gave me an approving thumbs up sign. My boyfriend, however, was less than impressed with this tactic. He really wanted me to see a doctor, especially when he confirmed that the bone just wasn’t feeling normal.
Don’t mistake my guerrilla tactics on Friday for strength. If I were a real woman, I would have had my shoulder checked out. But like I said in my last post, bone injuries turn me into a whiny little bitch. I did not want to entertain the idea of someone wrenching the joint back in its socket.
By Saturday afternoon, however, my arm hung weirdly from the socket and the bone popped out ominously still from the socket. I had promised my boyfriend that I would go see a doctor on Monday and was dreading the idea. Then, at some point in the afternoon, I felt something pop when I sneezed. I felt my injured shoulder. It felt…normal. Boyfriend confirmed that it felt much better and that nothing was sticking out anymore.
Luck, or….DIVINE INTERVENTION*? It’s like my shoulder was all, “Hell no, I don’t want to see a doctor either. LET’S JUST TAKE CARE OF THIS NOW.”
Either way, I’m very grateful that my shoulder is on the road to recovery. It’s easy to forget just how vital it is until you need to do, like, anything requiring movement. It’s still stiff and sore, but my range of motion is improving rapidly. At least I’ll be able to run now, though I will take any actual exercising easy for a couple of weeks.
I guess the next time I injure my shoulder, I’ll go get medical attention, but it’s hard to get the motivation when your body does all the hard work itself.
*I’m just being facetious. If God does truly exist, I doubt He cares about the state of a clumsy twenty-something’s shoulder joint.