Damage, Inc. - Metallica

My shoulder has been effed for about a year. My chiropractor thinks I strained it tossing boxes and cases of laundry detergent around off a pallet and then eventually, since I kept repeating this behavior, the muscles went into lockdown and just froze the damn thing up. And so it has been for close to a year. I got an MRI that showed the thing crammed up with scar tissue. It really is so painful and difficult to move, but in a regular context of just hanging out, you can't tell I have an injury. But there are no pushups, no shoulder presses, and even sun salutations are off the table. I actually can't even put my elbow on the rolled down car window to cruise down the boulevard. But most of all, it's getting in the way of spooning my butch. And that, my friends, is just cruel.

The last time I undertook a bizarre running challenge, finishing a marathon before I turned 40, I endured a pretty intense case of plantar fasciitis. That blew. I got cortisone shots in my heels like I was some kind of Cy Young winner trying to make it through the playoffs with an ailing elbow, not a regular pudgy Jewish lesbian just wanting to mark middle age with an epic sort of victory. The shots wore off just before the race and, well, sometimes, that's how life goes. I had to walk about four miles of the race and wasn't sure I'd be able to finish. It felt like there were tacks in my heels, each step featuring the sensation of a sick bully in grade school placing a silver menace below each footfall. I frankly have no idea how I finished the race, both through the foot pain but also just because THAT IS TOO LONG TO RUN. 

So now I have this shoulder thing. And it's been going on a long time. I've done massage and acupuncture and chiropractic. I've even done my homework for the excrutiating exercises. I'm over it. Soon I'll be going to see a surgeon to see if I am a good candidate for a procedure where the team puts you under and then manually break up the scar tissue. This is followed up by about a month of physical therapy and then hopefully I'll have my pageant wave back. It's true that a lady could go the physical therapy route and just tough it out, but when my kind doctor tried to manually move my shoulder in the office, I actually thought I might throw up. It hurts that much. I'll take the lights out option, please. 

I'm telling you this because I'm interested in letting you know that frankly, I have a lot of problems. I can't do any strength training right now, plus the last year has also seen some stressful and crushing blows in my personal life around illness (I'll get to this soon). I often, when things are difficult, take comfort in food. The marathon happened with about 15 more pounds than I'm carrying now and by the time I hit the Hood to Coast, I imagine about 25 more coming off. I spent the marathon rewarding myself with every pastry I could find, often several times a day. Which was lovely, but ultimately, not in my life goal of treating my body with care and respect. This time I have a new education in nutrition behind me, a successful coaching practice in full swing, and an enormous amount of support to help me do this differently: in health and in happiness. 

And so first, this shoulder crap update. I'll keep you posted.