Thursday, February 16, 2006

Whee, it's surgereeeey!

Surgery. Getting the freakin' mail, and now it's surgery. I knew life isn't fair! Yuck. From the doc's preliminary description, I believe it'll be the Bankart Lesion Repair. Here's another good article with all the gory details.

Dr. Herring will be my surgeon.

The surgery is arthroscopic outpatient, and I'm scheduled for Wednesday, March 1st. I'll take off the rest of that week, but should be back at work by March 6th, I think. He said recovery is 3-4 weeks in a sling, 1 month intense physical therapy, then 1-2 months of moderate physical therapy, and then I should be as good as new.

Anybody got a LaZBoy I can borrow for the first few weeks of sleeping afterwords? :-)

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

25 things to do before I die

This came across my RSS today:

I was just recently reminded about something I heard several years ago: everyone should have a list of 100 things they want to do before they die.

100 seems like an awful lot, so I'm just going to work on 25 to start with. This will be a evolving list, as things come to me.

  1. Journey in the desert (including sleeping out under the stars at night)

  2. See the Northern Lights (kinda saw them once in Iceland, but I mean a GOOD viewing)

  3. Sail across the ocean

  4. Romp in a null gravity environment (hey, nobody said these have to be achievable)

  5. Be silent and alone for a week

  6. Live in a foreign country

  7. Live in a skyscraper

  8. Shave my head

  9. hmm, this is proving to be harder than I thought! Is that good, indicating that I go ahead and do the things I want to; or bad, indicating that I have no creativity? ;)

  10. Become proficient at some kind of body/movement based practice - yoga, salsa, pole dancing, trapeze work, aikido, belly dancing...something like that...

  11. hmm

Forget the pain, I'm talkin' maligned rage

That's it, the phrase that I've been searching for. When I reached out that extra little bit to ensure that there was no long-awaited letter flattened against the back of the mail box, I actually heard my shoulder pop out. I know from prior experience that there must have been immediate pain, but for a good 15 seconds all I felt was rage. Such a tiny little movement to dislocate my shoulder! I had been so good, I'd done all my physical therapy without fail, even after I was declared "better", I didn't move my arm in the directions that they told me would potentially dislocated it... What evil force out there has such malignance toward me? Why should I go through this again? Grrrrr.

I do feel sorry for poor Sammy. He was in the car with me, and I totally freaked out for a good 30 seconds in rage and pain - yelling at the top of my lungs, moaning like the damned. He's just a dog, for gods sake, I'm sure he though I was upset with him. Poor fella.

Anyway, I'm kinda bummed cause I didn't get to finish painting the old house for selling. Just need one more coat on the back room, should go really quickly, I just need 2 arms for it.