She Moves In Mysterious Ways

As much as I love the pictures from the U2 concert, my blog seemed very dark.  So I felt the need to lighten it up a bit.  Hope you like it.

Here's the story of what I've been dealing with for the past couple of weeks.  For Memorial Day, we went to Logan.  It was rainy and cold most of the weekend, so not many pictures, sorry.  Wait--let me back up.  Our dryer decided to bite it the week before, so I took the boy to Logan in Allen's car, so Allen could use mine to transport a new dryer that Saturday.  I didn't realize it, but my backseat folds up to leave quite a bit of room in the back for storage/transport.  Who knew?  (I suppose I would if I actually read the owner's manual, but that's beside the point.)  Anyway, he found a pretty nice used dryer in Logan (on the KSL classifieds), so he drove up and picked it up, then spent the rest of the weekend with the family.

On Monday the 30th, we went up to the cemetery and released some balloons from John's grave.  Afterward, some of us went to see Pirates 4 (very good, btw).  We hung out for a little while, and Allen helped Dad and Dave give priesthood blessings to Mom (who was having another heart ablation that week) and to Lexy, whose labor was being induced on Monday night.  Apparently, Allen had a feeling that something else was going  to go wrong . . . I wish he would have shared that tidbit with me; I might have been more cautious.

As it is, we both got home around 5pm.  I unloaded my stuff  and Allen was trying to get everything arranged for the new dryer.  I was walking in the door when I tripped over my feet.  To anyone who knows me, that's nothing unusual--I trip all the time.  This time, the difference was that I reached back with my right arm to stop myself from falling.  Normally that wouldn't be a big deal, except for a small incident in 2007.

I thought I had blogged about this at some point, but I guess it was before I started blogging.  Well, in August 2007, Allen and I were on our way out to dinner.  We were living in Sugar House at the time, and I needed to run in to the house for something.  I got out of the car and was walking when I tripped, and I reached back with my right arm to catch myself.  Sound familiar?  Well, I dislocated it the first time that day, so instead of spending the evening at a restaurant, we spent hours in the ER at St. Mark's hospital.  Miserable.  It was truly the worst pain I have ever felt.  (Incidentally, when they were taking x-rays, they asked me if I was pregnant.  I wasn't sure, though it was possible.   I didn't really care until I got home and decided I should really find out. I took a pee test, and lo-and-behold, it was positive.  Crazy, eh?  I remember that my reaction was, "Seriously?"  Not unwelcome, just unexpected.) 

So . . . being pregnant, with a first-time dislocation, we decided to put off any surgery.  I did a lot of physical therapy, and after a while I forgot about it.  I went back to see that orthopedist after the boy was born, but I had such a terrible experience at that office, and I was feeling better, so I left and never went back.

Honestly, with passing time, I forgot I ever had a shoulder injury until Memorial Day.  After I tripped, it all came rushing back very clearly.  I thought to myself, "Oh crap--I hope I didn't dislocate my shoulder again."  I tried to move my arm, but wasn't really able to.  When I realized I had indeed dislocated again, I was pretty calm for a while, calling Sarah and Mach for assistance with Benji, texting my boss to tell her I wouldn't be in the next day, etc.  All the while, Allen was struggling with the dryer, and he was supposed to be to work at 7pm, so I was trying to figure out how I was going to get my arm back in its' joint and take care of everything else.  It wasn't pretty, and Allen was freaking out because of work, and with every moment my shoulder was growing more and more painful.  Eventually, Allen got the dryer in, called in sick and took me to the Instacare.  They decided they could do the reduction there, so Allen took the boy to Rachael's while the doctor manipulated it back into place.

Before = dislocated, after = back in place

Thankfully he gave me some morphine to make it bearable.  In the ER, they gave me Propofol and just popped it in,  This doc took 15 minutes, all the while holding my arm and moving it ever-so-slowly back into place.  I think I prefer the quick-and-dirty method, but I hope I will never have to endure another reduction.  In any case, he gave me a sling and swathe and told me to wear it until I saw an Orthopod.  All of this made working at my current job impossible, so I was off all week.

I got in to see Dr. Fukushima on Friday June 3rd (I knew him from IMC).  He discussed my options with me.  There is activity modification, pain pills, injections, physical therapy, and surgery.  We decided to get an MRI of my shoulder to aid in the decision making.  I also went in to work that day to discuss the situation with my boss.  She wanted me to wait until the fall, if I did do surgery, since we are just getting into the busy summer season.  She would support me in whatever decision I made, so I told her I'd think about it.

I had the MRI this last Wednesday, June 8th.  I knew we were doing it "with contrast" (meaning that they inject a radioopaque dye into the shoulder capsule, which helps determine if there are tears and increases the accuracy of the study).  I didn't realize that the injection would be a separate procedure, like a quick surgery though there was no anesthesia.  They positioned me and prepped and draped (with the drapes over my head . . . probably the worst part of the whole thing) and injected the dye under fluoroscopy/C-arm.  I'm glad they did it sterilly, I just wish I had been better prepared for that part of the procedure.  They did inject some lidocaine as well as the dye, so it actually made my shoulder feel better for the MRI.  That part took a good 45-50 minutes, most with my arm at my side, but some with my arm stretched overhead.  That wasn't particularly fun, but it wasn't too bad after all.

I met with Dr. Fukushima again on Friday June 10th.  First, he manipulated my arm a bit, having me bend it certain ways without help, then with his putting pressure on (stabilizing) the joint.  It made a big difference, which didn't surprise either of us.  He then went over the results of the MRI with me, and drew me a picture.  It was just a simple drawing, but it looked something like this:

He explained that I have a Bankart tear (a type of Labral tear) and a Hill-Sachs lesion.  FYI, this is an excellent overview of shoulder dislocations, and it describes things a lot better than I can.  Being a recurrent dislocator, it will be just a matter of time before it happens again.  And the other options--pain pills and injections--are just temporary.  No thanks.  Physical Therapy is a given; I'll be getting it with or without surgery, but if I do have the surgery, my chance of dislocating again is very low (less than 5%).  The surgery is an outpatient procedure, done arthroscopically through three small incisions (less than 1cm each).  The labrum is reattached to the glenoid using dissolvable screws, then he'll clean things out and tighten up the joint.

So . . . if you haven't figured it out, I decided to go forward with the surgery sooner than later.  I'm not worried about it, though I would be more worried about a recurrence if I put it off any longer.  Also, I'm only allowed so much time off per year, and I'm not sure breaking up my leave-of-absence would give me enough time to heal completely.  Sorry, boss.

Eh bien, voilà.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.  I'm scheduled to go under the knife on Monday, June 20th.  Wish me luck.