The cold shoulder

A diagnosis at last! I found (a qualified, medical) someone who was not distracted by the MRI. The trusty physiotherapist referred me to a shoulder specialist who announced I have a 'frozen shoulder' I burst into tears, not from pain this time, but because someone believed me.
This has been going on for six months now, so it's no small thing to have an actual diagnosis.

Image from kneeandshouldersurgery.com
To recap - I thought I'd pulled a muscle in Italy retrieving my backpack from the back seat of our rental. Since it was Italy and I (obviously) wasn't driving I was in the right passenger seat. So I used my left arm. It didn't end well (A Pain in the Neck) It didn't get better. Well-meaning people pointed me in other directions - the alternative approach. This irritated me immensely - resulting in the Snake Oil blog.



I'm now researching surgical options, apparently I'm a 'good candidate' for the surgery. Although the condition is self-healing (a fact discovered when the NHS in Britain took so long to schedule surgery that people started recovering and cancelling) it can take up to two years to right itself. I'm not sure I have the constitution for two years of this pain. Unfortunately most of the medical sites covering the 'procedure' are too graphic for me to get beyond the first paragraph without blanching and shutting down the whole computer in defence.
So I've booked an appointment for a second opinion with another shoulder specialist (who knew?) Trusty Physiotherapist snorted when I told her "He's a surgeon. He'll recommend cutting. Don't let anyone open your joint" all the while pushing and kneading the knots in my neck until I was teary-eyed with pain. Our safe word is 'eight' based on a pain rating out of 10.

I'm also self-medicating with endorphins which involves going back to gym. Unfortunately neither the treadmill nor the reclinocycle responds to my yelling 'Eight! Eight!' and the regulars now leave a healthy gap between us when I start shouting. The reality is I'm outgrowing my clothes.Although it's handy to blame the cortisone injections for my 'bloating' it's more likely the burgers and red wine. Did I mention the cortisone injections? Right into the shoulder joint? Wiggling the needle to get to the right spot?

I have two weeks left to improve my range (see, I'm even talking like the specialist now) or it's surgery. Trusty Physiotherapist recommended a pulley system to help. "Don't go beyond five" she said, "and if that causes spasms then take it down to one"

Walter and Child No 2 nodded when I asked for their help setting up the pulley system. Then Walter went off to golf and Child No 2 went back to his computer. A week later I rigged my own system. It consists of a tow rope from my teenytiny4x4 slung over a beam in the thatch. Picture me: I hold an end in each hand, I pull down with my right hand, which raises my left hand. In the lounge. I yell "Eight!", remember Trusty Physiotherapist isn't there and drop the rope. My family goes about their business, quite used to the mad mother/wife by now.