He should NOT attempt to playfully put ice on the right side of my neck while nuzzling the left side. You see, if Neal should decide to attempt such a feat, I shall jerk my head to the left away from the ice and then the hard part of my skull above my left ear shall smack into Neal's right eye socket. Then, I'll start yelling, "OWWW!" while Neal backs away clutching melting ice cubes in one hand and his injured eyebrow with the other, and we'll both giggle uncontrollably for a long time while Neal tries to gasp out that that wasn't quite the desired result. Well, shit. I hope not.
In other painful injury news...
Neal and I had a fun Saturday night. We went out to dinner with our pals J and E, then headed over to a bar for some yummy drinks and an even yummier band. We topped off the evening with a rousing round of black-light bowling, then headed home.
As we crawled into bed, I mentioned something about my shoulder feeling strange. Not exactly sore, but just... wrong. Like it sort of was put together incorrectly all of a sudden. Then I drifted off to sleep. (Subtle foreshadowing.)
The next day, the feeling in my shoulder went from odd to sore. Not horrible, but rather stiff and awkward.
This morning, I proudly move up a notch to PAIN. Ow. E is a sport-medicine kind of guy, so at work, I tell him what's up and demonstrate the strange crunchy popping noise I am now able to produce by lifting my arm a certain way. I addition, I've lost the ability to raise my arm above shoulder level without screaming and crying and doing all kinds of loud and whiny things that get rather embarrassing in a place of work.
E tells me he thinks I separated it. A call to an orthopedic physician confirms the diagnosis. I'm ordered to ice and Advil the sucker, and to call their office back if I'm not feeling more like my old self by the end of the week.
This would be a lot easier to take if THERE WAS A LOGICAL REASON IT WAS HAPPENEING. You guys, I didn't hurt myself. I haven't fallen, gotten stuck in anything, or run into any wall-type object. No, I wasn't drunk. I'd accept being laid up better if there was an impressive and dangerous accident to pin it on, complete with the entertaining story to share with others, but there's nothing.
I know you're all thinking bowling, but that's not it. It's my left shoulder. I bowl with my right arm, and even pick up the ball using only my right hand. Neal and I spent a few minutes retracing the footsteps of my shoulder (retracing the shouldersteps? retracing the jointsteps?) and there is no reason why I should be injured. I just AM. We concluded that I probably pulled my shirt off in a funky manner, or something equally lameass and Jamie-like. (The story of the time I got a big bruise on my head while putting on socks is for another time.)
I've noticed a couple of things since I've essentially lost use of my left arm.
1. I have many unconscious habits that depend on that shoulder, like leaning on my left arm and twisting, or stretching my back by clasping my folded hands between my knees and pulling. These automatic, innocent activities now HURT.
2. I also poke and tickle Neal quite frequently. That now HURTS.
3. I gesture when I talk. A lot. That, too, fucking HURTS.
I'd like to duct tape my arm to my torso so that I stop inadvertently causing sharp pains that shoot down my arm and into my fingers. Neal watched me accidentally torture myself about a dozen times during dinner tonight, and is about three more "ohnoohcrapgoddamnitohellOWWW!"s away from forcing me to wear a sling.
Here's a list of things that are now difficult to impossible without being able to raise your left arm.
1. Dressing and undressing.
2. Turning a steering wheel. (At least I shift with my right hand.)
3. Putting my longass heavy hair up. (You should have seen Neals first couple of attempts. It was like Boy George on crack with access to a multitude of hair accessories.)
4. Eati-- Fuck it. EVERYTHING is a pain in the ass now.
