3 posts tagged “injury”
My evening:
Flaming crepes with rum, coconut, and ice cream. I suspect the point behind the flambé was to burn off the alcohol in the rum. They did not succeed.
Followed by a Gym Class Reunion Party. We played tag and four square and drank. Pictured with me in phys ed glory is my incomparably lovely friend Annabelle.
For the win!
My morning:
On the one hand, I felt a bit guilty for stomping loudly all over his choice piece of real estate. On the other, he's a rodent and I don't want a broken ankle.
I did a spirited slide tackle in the first half, which resulted in the surprisingly painful scrape pictured above. Good thing I wore my short-shorts last night, as it'll be a while before I can rock them again.
My afternoon:
My local coffee shop has a selection called "Whim of the Barista". It costs $5, and is exactly as described: based on their highly variable and very whimsical inclinations, these excellent and extensively-trained (and many other adjectives for which I have no room) baristas whip up whatever the hell they feel like.
Most of them make it very clear that this drink isn't an exercise in democracy. If you order The Whim, you don't get to inquire or make requests. You can mention things that you don't like, and they may or may not huffily oblige. Imagine Google's "I'm Feeling Lucky" button, but with espresso and spices. It's like playing with fire: dangerous, irresistible, fascinating. Even though I'm terrified of paying $5 for a drink I hate, I can't stop ordering them.
This week I've had an iced latte flavored with cinnamon and peanut butter, and a latte with cocoa, ginger, and nutmeg. This afternoon's whim: a savory-sweet clove cappuccino. I continue to be enslaved by the whims of the baristas.
I still don't know precisely what's going on with my shoulder, but I still got the worst possible news at the ortho today:
That's right... they're putting me in the bright shiny coffin.
Understand that getting an MRI is the most terrifying of prospects for me, on the order of 3x if x = flying cross-country in a thunderstorm without Xanax. I get completely freaked out in small enclosed spaces, most especially if my arms are pinned at my side. It's so bad that I sometimes can't even make it under the bed if something has nudged its way too far out of reach.
I found myself thinking highly irrational things, like:
- Why couldn't it have been my knee, so that way I wouldn't have to go into the thing head-first?
- Why couldn't I have just broken my shoulder, so that way I'd only need an x-ray?
- Maybe if I remind them that my sport is soccer, they'll decide that my shoulder isn't important enough to warrant an MRI?
So, the scoop is that I did indeed dislocate my shoulder. While it's great that it popped back in on its own, there will still be some amount of damage to the surrounding ligaments. The best case scenario is that I've just stretched them out, which means I'll need physical therapy and will have to go 4 to 6 weeks without soccer. The worst case scenario is that I've detached or severely torn one or more of the ligaments, which means arthroscopic surgery and 6 to 12 weeks off the field. Note that even the best case scenario is awful, however, since I need to spend 15-30 minutes in the bright shiny coffin before I get the prognosis. And (of course) being unable to play soccer for any number of weeks is no fun at all.
awooooooooooooooooooooooo!
There is, however, one small scrap of silver lining in this dark and stormy cloud: I get drugs! They'll be giving me Ativan, which is basically a short-term tranquilizer. Wheeeeeeee, drugs!
About 4 minutes into tonight's indoor soccer game, I found myself splayed out on my front and in excruciating pain. I had just tried to perform a very clever turn up against the wall. Instead of executing it flawlessly like all those ambiguously foreign men in YouTube football videos, I tripped over something (probably my own feet) and went hurtling towards the ground.
My arms flew out in front of me instinctively, trying to brace me against the fall. I had so much forward momentum, however, that they just slid forward until my face nearly planted on the turf. I felt my left shoulder pop, and then I felt an explosion of pure, unadulterated ouchie.
I mean... ow. I've hurt stuff before, but this was the most disconcerting feeling I've ever experienced. It was so much of a feeling so unexpected and so very wrong... I just didn't know how to process it.
After two seconds real-world time (2 minutes of freaked out Elaina swimming through an ocean of pain time), I knew I had to haul myself off the field. As I straightened up, I felt another pop. The pure, unadulterated ouchie subsided and was replaced with a strange "jibbly" sort of sensation... one that has been steadily growing into constant, aching pain all around my shoulder. Moving it hurts. Not moving it sorta hurts too. I'm no doctor... but I think I dislocated my little wing. :0(
Ortho... ho!
