The road to recovery from chronic disease (Substitute shoulder surgery) is a long and winding road of small victories. —Yolanda Hadid
Am I on a superhighway or a pothole infested back road? There are days when I seem to have taken a detour on the road to recovery, and other days when I’m cruising in my convertible with the top down.
After my reverse shoulder replacement surgery with a moderate glenoid augmentation (that involves a repair to the rotator cuff) I’m writing this newsletter today in anticipation of my six-week appointment with my surgeon. My left arm is tucked in my immobilizer, nicknamed Black Armbo, my constant companion for the past five and a half weeks. It’s like carrying the backrest of an upholstered armchair around in a sling–only not as comfortable.
Today, I’m on a county highway driving along under the speed limit. I’ve sat in my Optiflex machine for an hour, a therapeutic device looking a bit like an electric chair with a robot arm. The mechanical arm lifts my recovering arm to a preset height, which I change three degrees almost daily until I reach my goal of an angle of 120 degree. Not quite pain free today but better than yesterday. I’ve spent approximately three hours every day on this machine, dubbed Charlie, a mechanical Charles Atlas for my ‘body’ sculpting. I’ve watched my favorite British/New Zealand detective shows for ideas for my next mystery and reruns of Parks and Recreation, hoping the goofy optimism of Leslie Knope will rub off on me.
After an hour of exercise, it’s time for my date with Mr. Frosty, best therapy device ever invented. I settle into his cold embrace, a cozy half vest over my new shoulder. Cold, soothing ice water is pumped continually over the stitched-up area. For three hours every day, he’s the highlight of my recovery time.
Sleeping in recliner takes some major adjustments, because I’m a side sleeper. The immobilizer is an added trial. Even if I pretend I’m cuddling a stuffie (in the cozy shape of a blacksmith’s anvil) it’s hard to find a comfortable position. I toss around so much, the recliner actually moves across the room until I end up hitting a bookshelf. Talk about crashing on the road!
I’ve read five books in four weeks. Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver, a page turner about drug addiction, poverty and resilience, set in Appalachia. So graphically heartbreaking, not for the faint hearted. Empire of Pain: The Secret History of the Sackler Family by Patrick Radden Keefe, the story of the family’s private greed that fueled the opioid epidemic. Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, by Jesse Sutano, a cozy mystery featuring a 60-year-old Chinese woman as the detective, a light break from the opioid books. Love in the Time of Cholera, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, was a book club choice(not mine) with long descriptions and challenging prose. And finally, Less is Lost, by Andrew Sean Greer, the comic adventures of hapless Arthur Less, an obscure gay author, as he travels across America with a pug called Dolly in a rickety camper van dubbed Rosina. Love in the Time Of Cholera was the only disappointment
No Zumba, no yoga. Outside of my time with Charlie, my only exercise is watering flowers and moving laundry around with one hand. I’m grateful to be able to pull weeds and putter around in the kitchen. I’m truly my husband’s right-hand woman.
My husband has been my savior. He helps me take a shower, washes and dries my hair, and gets me dressed. I found some wonderful shirts on Etsy that have snaps along the left shoulder, so I don’t have to move my arm to fit into the sleeve. Michael just fastens the snaps and I’m good to go. He opens jars and bottles and cuts my meat. Sometimes I feel like he’s taking care of a giant one-armed toddler–me.
Losing the ability to drive, even temporarily, is difficult. Last week Michael drove me to my home town of Cambria to get together with my high school friends. We ventured out in the haze of the Canadian wild fires to travel for over an hour to our destination. He ate in a different room so we could talk freely. No complaining or minding the time. He’s a treasure. He jokingly says he’s driving Miss Lazy. I know there’s many other retirement activities he’s missing so I try to keep his chauffeuring to a minimum.
So, I’ve reached the end of my endurance for one handed typing. My eight-year-old granddaughter is visiting next week, so I want to send this newsletter to Lisa, my amazing web designer today, so I can focus on enjoying time with Aubrey. I’ll be traveling down a different road with her, with stops for playing school, tea parties, Stuffies Zoo and Barbies. Hopefully we’ll visit the real zoo at Vilas Park. A trip to the Aquatic Center is also on the horizon.
Small victories with my favorite small person. The road never looked so inviting.
Janice Detrie 