The Boo-Boo That Comes Back To Bite You

When I was eleven years old, I was hit by a car. I was riding my bike home from guitar lessons at the local rec center, balancing the guitar case on my handlebars (we think we can do anything at that age, don't we?). I almost made it. About a block from the house, I saw a car coming, and we reached a fork in the road at the same instant. Would the car fork right, or would the car fork left? If so, which way should I go?

Needless to say, I made the wrong choice. I steered my bike directly in front of the oncoming car - my fault entirely. The next thing I knew, I woke up in somebody's front yard, with my head in my mom's lap. (As an aside, this was one of what my family calls a "Zelda moment"; from down the block, my mom heard the screech of tires and the sound of an impact, and ran out of the house calling my name, knowing that I'd been in an accident. She was the first person on the scene.)

I was very lucky. Aside from being knocked unconscious and having some serious bruising along my left side from the impact, I was okay. Or so I thought.

Now, umpteen years later, my doctor feels that the recent trouble I've been having with my left shoulder is the residual effect of that accident. A little over a month ago, I began having pain when I lifted my arm. It quickly progressed to pain when I pushed, pulled, or lifted anything with that arm. He calls it "impingement", and believes I may have had a small tear in the muscles of the shoulder that never healed, but never bothered me until now. The tear may have gotten larger, or the muscle become inflamed. So now it's x-rays and MRI's, cortisone shots or arthroscopic surgery, physical therapy or whatever.

The good news? I'm going to get an hour-long massage today, doctor's orders. WOO-HOO!!