Loyal readers will know that I’ve been dealing with shoulder pain for nearly nine months and that because of a series of unfortunate events and my own trust issues, I’ve been ignoring medical advice for most of that time. But I finally had an MRI, learned that I have a partially torn tendon, and am now fully committed to physical therapy and a speedy recovery. Let’s go!
Except no one told me how awful the first step in my healing journey – a cortisone injection – would be. “It’s just a shot,” they said. “You’ll be fine,” they said.
No so! They blatantly lied to my unsuspecting little face. And I know this because the procedure is done in a special room awash in calming neutrals and precious pet photos. As if staring at 20 dachshund puppies in bandanas could distract me from the ultrasound machine and tray of multiple large needles lurking in the corner. Hello! If you need adorable kittens, high imagery guidance, and subcutaneous numbing medicine, it’s going to be bad.
And it was. Basically, I was viciously jabbed twice. In. The. Bone. Well, not exactly in the bone. Technically, I think she stuck me in a bursa sac, but wherever, it was so intense and mentally disturbing that even my award-winning Lamaze breathing was caught off guard. Days later, I’m still experiencing PTSD, heebie-jeebies and gag reflexes whenever I think about it.
Apparently, though, I will begin to feel significant relief in the next week. My shoulder tendon won’t be healed, but I should be able to tolerate PT better and, hopefully, return to a more active lifestyle soon. Let’s go!