Over the past two months, I noticed a problem with my right shoulder. At first it was stiff. I made minor modifications at the gym, like not fully extending my right arm during the 30 seconds of jumping jacks during warmup. Then it was sore. I made additional modifications, like lightening weight for overhead presses. And then, despite these modifications and the passage of time (which I sincerely believed would solve this problem), the discomfort persisted.
Then, during some phase I can't precisely pinpoint, the discomfort turned a corner to outright pain with certain movements, even waking me several times each night. (It hasn't reached the "actively being mauled by a bear" level of pain, but I'm progressing up the chart.)
I'm now unable to extend my arm overhead or reach behind me, which is troublesome. When undressing, I shimmy my shirt down my body, then step out of it because I can't pull clothing over my head without getting locked in a fabric entanglement and calling for someone to pull me out. (So far, this only has occurred in my closet with my husband as the rescuer. I imagine it would be significantly more awkward, say, in a fitting room with a stranger.)
More puzzling, I don't know how I arrived at this gimpy state. Did I injure myself while ziplining during my much-needed weekend getaway without knowing it? Did exercise exacerbate these tweaked tendons? Am I just getting old?
I don't know.
What I do know, though, is that I felt foolish for landing here. I wanted my shoulder to get better on its own, maybe after a night of applying an ice pack or popping a few Advil. I didn't want to hassle with actual treatment because I'm good at avoidance techniques.
But two things -- daresay, two people -- changed this for me. One gentle and kind woman at the gym asked me what my plan was to remedy the injury. After looking at her blankly for a moment, baffled that I never had thought of making a plan on my own, I said, "Well, I guess I need to make an appointment with a doctor, except that I don't have a PCP since mine retired last year."
She smiled and said, "That's a good start. You definitely can do that."
Emboldened by her assurance in my capabilities as a functional adult who does things like find doctors and schedule appointments, I added, "I'll make this my goal for the month of October."
She said, "How about you make it your goal for this week?"
And you know what? I did. That very day I called my doctor's office and secured a new PCP. Yesterday I went the appointment, got a diagnosis (tendonitis of the rotator cuff), and received a referral for a physical therapist.
Then, on a roll, I did the process once more: I gathered physical therapist recommendations, researched the online, made phone calls, and scheduled my first appointment for next week.
A man from the gym who provided a valuable PT recommendation learned that I had scheduled my initial evaluation. He texted: "It's great you're taking action as your next step. Well done!"
I think God placed these two people in my life to provide this nudge toward healing. When I was in avoidance, the woman encouraged me to make an appointment sooner rather than later. The man applauded and validated my efforts, making me feel as if I were wise, not weak, for doing so.
How wonderful. Quite literally, it seems, they've helped me to shoulder this problem.
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