Shoulder surgery 3.5!!???!!

A lot has happened since my last post.  Yah, I know.  My last post was a long time ago, so grab a coffee and a chair and start reading.  

My cycling season ended in mid August after races in Canada, North Carolina, Vermont, and Colorado.  I was a bit burnt out and over trained by the end of the season; isn’t hind sight 20/20.

A week after the season ended, I took a cruise with my family in the Baltic.  We all had a great time, and it was nice to be back in Europe without having to lug a bike and luggage around.  We visited some really neat places like Russia, and Estonia.  I ate too much, drank too much, and by the end of the week was really itching to be back on my bike.

Some time in July, I convinced Michael that we needed to sign up for La Ruta de los Conquistadores (www.adventurerace.com).  This was a 4 day stage race across Costa Rica and I was really excited about it.  I was ready to get back on the bike and start training big time for the race which was in November.

In early September, there was a local 50 mile mountain bike race that we had signed up to do, in preparation for La Ruta.  It was a great day and I was feeling awesome.  The rest had done me good, and I was really enjoying myself and the New England fall weather.  About 15 miles in, I caught up with Michael.  He was having a fun race too.  We chatted a bit, and then I passed him.  I should have known the end was near…we never have cordial exchanges on the race course.

  A few minutes later, I rode up onto a rock ledge and found myself falling off left.  There was a good 5 plus foot drop, and it wasn’t looking good for our hero!  I saw a tree, reached out, and grabbe

d for it.  As I swung by my arm, my bike and body dropped out from under me.  I quickly realized I was in big trouble.  I found myself with a dislocated shoulder that I was trying hard to get back located.  I finally got it back in the socket, as  Michael and a friend came around the corner to find me. 

Michael put his hands over his face as if to say, “Oh please, no!  This can’t be happening.”  The 1.5 mile trek out of the woods to the waiting ambulance was no picnic.  As they closed the ambulance doors, I instructed Michael to run away, as I knew this wasn’t going to end well.

As you can probably guess, I am not a great patient.  Nothing makes me crazier than not being taken seriously, and that is exactly what happened at the ER.  After telling me I probably didn’t dislocate my shoulder, the doctor reluctantly took X Rays.  Not only was my shoulder dislocated, but I had also broken a piece of the socket off.  This, I knew, was a huge problem, though the ER doc didn’t seem too troubled.

As soon as I got home, sling and X-rays in hand, I e-mailed my surgeon, Dr. Holovacs, at Mass General Hospital to tell him the news.  He was great.  He wrote right back, and his office got me in for the necessary, not so fun, tests.  The accident happened Sunday, and by Wednesday morning, I was on the phone with the Doc.  I was scheduled for surgery on Monday to try to repair the socket and ligaments of my shoulder. 

In an instant, the rug was ripped out from under me.  Plans to do La Ruta in November were gone; I couldn’t work as a Physical Therapist; I couldn’t race cyclocross; now I was going to have to concentrate on getting my shoulder fixed and rehabilitated.

The surgery on Monday went well.  Dr. Holovacs was able to go in with a scope, reattach and tighten the ligaments, and drill in special bone growing screws.  Unfortunately, he was unable to reattach the bone.  I had apparently splintered it off along with the cartilage that was attached to it.  Like they say, “Go big, or go home!”  God forbid, I hadn’t completely screwed the thing up.  So, he took the bone chip out and tightened the joint up.  After waking up from surgery, I got a thumbs up from the Doc and confidence that the shoulder was going to be ok without a huge reconstruction.

My doctor blamed my surgeries on my parents.  “Bad genetics,” he said.  I promptly blamed them as well.  After all, this was not my fault.  My father quickly pointed out that the problems were from my mother’s side.  My mother was having none of it, and promptly said it was from my father’s side.  At least I was causing some good family strife.

Over a month has now passed since my surgery, and I am finally able to write about it without going into deep depression.  Week one went by really slowly; my mother and Michael (aka. Florence Nightengale) took turns babysitting me.  On a positive note, after 3+ surgeries, they finally gave me good pain meds.  I told them not to bother with Percoset or Vicoden, as they do nothing for me.  So they gave me Dilaudid.  Boy was that stuff awesome.  I went on a few flying adventures that first week..  Mr.  Nightengale made sure that I was on the proper pain med dosing schedule.  I think he realized quickly that keeping me really doped up was way better than having me lucid and really pissed off.

Week two went by slowly but better.  At the beginning of week three, I got back on the indoor bike trainer; that is a sight!!  By the middle of week three, my arm pit was really irritated.  It had been bothering me for a bit, but of course I ignored it and just kept applying Gold Bond powder.  Finally, it was bad enough that I had Mr. Nightengale look at it.  He just about had a hemorrhage.  “You are going to the doctor tomorrow,” he ranted.  Reluctantly, I went.  The short of it, a yeast infection in my arm pit…you have to be kidding me.  Even worse was my trip to the drug store to buy jock itch cream and athlete’s foot powder to apply to the offending fungus.

 

Monday will be 5 weeks since surgery.  I am still in a sling, unable to use my arm.  I am hoping to get permission to take the sling off on Monday.  I haven’t been able to do much, but I have gotten quite proficient at  using my computer and credit card to order multiple things online.  It is about all that I can do.  I get stuff delivered and get to talk to the UPS guy.  What could be better!!  Unfortunately, I have been unable to do much in the way of work.  Thank god for my coaching business!!

relegated to the trainer

So, things are looking up.  I have been walking, and biking on the trainer, and I can’t wait to get this damn sling off.  I have taken to telling people who ask me what is wrong with my arm, that I was involved in a shark attack.  I felt bad when the woman at the post office went for it entirely.  I will leave you with the top 12 things people have told me regarding my 3+ shoulder surgery…..after all, what are you going to say?!

 

12.    Dude that sucks!

11.  Well, at least isn’t the other shoulder (hhmm…)

10.    Wow Sara…you must be on really good pain meds. (gee..did the uncontrollable itching/scratching give that away?!)

9.      Bad genetics.

8.      Are you ready to pick up a less dangerous sport? (give me a break!!)

7.      You are putting testicle cream on your wing….cool!!

6.      I really think you should get some Vagisil for that.

5.      A shark attack???  Really??

4.      Oh…it is time for your annual shoulder surgery.

3.  Maybe it is time to settle down and have babies.

2.  This is God’s way of slowing you down.

1.  It could be worse, you could have no arms  (that one was from my grandmother)          

                                                                           

  

Happy trails,

Sara