I never thought the day would come where I would feel like I have something in common with Amy Winehouse. Yet here I am, feeling like kindred spirits as I hum along to her song. This girl knows exactly how I’m feeling. Rehab sucks. And I realize that there are probably plenty of things in life that suck more, but nobody has come up with a catchy tune for them so for now, rehab tops my list.
First, let me pause and say how grateful I am to now be on the healing side of this injury. (Thank you God. You are good.) Now, where was I…oh yea. Complaining. I have now begun to spend an hour and a half of my time, at the end of an already extremely long and tiring day, trying to make this shoulder work properly again. Do I prefer this to walking around in a sling and not being able to do simple things like shave my armpit properly or unhook my bra? Of course I do. But that is not to say the process is in any way enjoyable.
For starters, it hurts. Like really, really hurts to stretch something that has no desire to be stretched out. I spent six weeks telling all the tendons and ligaments to get tight and cozy in there and now I’m trying to rip them apart and they are really fighting me big time. And because I will only inflict a certain amount of pain on myself, there is the therapist to help with the process. Supposedly, you are stretching it the right amount once you let out a scream. That is the indication that you have pulled and tugged the right amount and then you simply relax and hold it for a while. If I didn’t have an identical shoulder to compare it to, I’d never believe that this form of torture is necessary and I’d be quite content with having an arm that only lifted about three quarters of the way up. But I know better, and I know that in order for me to be the best at what I do, I’ll need that shoulder for positions such as this:
So it looks like I’ll be in the training room for the next several weeks lifting my 1 pound pink dumbbells and screaming out in agony as I stay on the fast track to get this shoulder healed and strong as soon as possible. Amy managed to stay out of rehab and make millions of dollars but I know I won’t make a red cent if I am not on top of it. And before you know it, I’ll be back to my old self!
(picture of old self minus 28 years...this is what I'm shooting for. My inspiration)