stevenpiziks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stevenpiziks) wrote2021-12-06 06:51 pm
stevenpiziks) wrote2021-12-06 06:51 pm
My Arm Hates Me
So I have this super-power. It's called "hyperflexive joints." We used to say "double-jointed." What this means in everyday terms is that I can touch every part of my own back. I didn't realize this was anything strange. My brother and sister can both do it, after all, so why was this weird? It wasn't until I was wrestling around with some friends in my twenties and I pulled one guy's arm around behind him, causing him to yelp with pain and immediately give up. When I expressed surprise, he turned me around and lifted my arm behind my back until my hand was up to my shoulder blade.
"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked, shocked. (Actually he said, "Tut das dir Weh nicht?", since we were in Germany.)
"No," I replied, and that's how I realized I had a super-power.
However, this particular super-power comes with a price. Human joints aren't actually made to withstand this kind of flexibility. Sure, my shoulders and elbows are loose, but my muscles and tendons are just like everyone else's. And over many years of using my arms the way I'm used to--stretching and moving in abnormal ways--I've put stress on things.
Now I'm in trouble.
My arm started hurting a few months ago when I moved it in certain ways. Not little twinges, either. These were heart-stopping lunges of pain. I went to the doctor, who ordered an MRI. The MRI came back inconclusive, but the doctor said I would benefit from physical therapy. I went three times a week for three months.
The pain got worse, not better.
It expanded to include more motions and gestures. Reaching up to get a glass from the cupboard. Turning the steering wheel hard over left. Stretching when I got up in the morning. And sometimes for no reason whatsoever.
I went back to the doctor, who said it was time for laparoscopic surgery. I either had a bone spurs which needed to be sanded off, or torn bicep tendon, which needed to be reattached, or both. They'll know for sure when they put the camera in there and can look around. I'm scheduled for December 27.
I don't take to surgery well. It's not the surgery so much as the anesthesia, really. Being drugged and having my memory played with makes me anxious. This isn't as bad as the kidney stone operations made me feel--shoulder surgery doesn't make me think of sexual assault. I'm . . . unhappily resigned to this, I suppose.
Lately, though, the pain's been getting worse. My arm hurts a lot, even when it's not moving. Today, I woke up with a steady pain that went on all day. I called the surgery scheduler and asked to be put on their waiting list. If someone cancels or reschedules a surgery, call me to take their place. I'm on that list now.
In the meantime, my arm hates me.
"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked, shocked. (Actually he said, "Tut das dir Weh nicht?", since we were in Germany.)
"No," I replied, and that's how I realized I had a super-power.
However, this particular super-power comes with a price. Human joints aren't actually made to withstand this kind of flexibility. Sure, my shoulders and elbows are loose, but my muscles and tendons are just like everyone else's. And over many years of using my arms the way I'm used to--stretching and moving in abnormal ways--I've put stress on things.
Now I'm in trouble.
My arm started hurting a few months ago when I moved it in certain ways. Not little twinges, either. These were heart-stopping lunges of pain. I went to the doctor, who ordered an MRI. The MRI came back inconclusive, but the doctor said I would benefit from physical therapy. I went three times a week for three months.
The pain got worse, not better.
It expanded to include more motions and gestures. Reaching up to get a glass from the cupboard. Turning the steering wheel hard over left. Stretching when I got up in the morning. And sometimes for no reason whatsoever.
I went back to the doctor, who said it was time for laparoscopic surgery. I either had a bone spurs which needed to be sanded off, or torn bicep tendon, which needed to be reattached, or both. They'll know for sure when they put the camera in there and can look around. I'm scheduled for December 27.
I don't take to surgery well. It's not the surgery so much as the anesthesia, really. Being drugged and having my memory played with makes me anxious. This isn't as bad as the kidney stone operations made me feel--shoulder surgery doesn't make me think of sexual assault. I'm . . . unhappily resigned to this, I suppose.
Lately, though, the pain's been getting worse. My arm hurts a lot, even when it's not moving. Today, I woke up with a steady pain that went on all day. I called the surgery scheduler and asked to be put on their waiting list. If someone cancels or reschedules a surgery, call me to take their place. I'm on that list now.
In the meantime, my arm hates me.