One year ago, I was coming out of surgery to repair my left shoulder after several months of intense pain.
The night before my surgery, I had experienced the worst pain I’d ever had in my life (with the exception of when I broke my ankle).
I chattered in nervousness the entire way to the surgery center. The Mr., normally not a morning person (especially at 4:30am) didn’t complain at all. He knew I needed an outlet. He’d seen all I’d been through since September.
I was absolutely exhausted and rated my pain as a 1000 on a scale from 1-100 when the nurse took my vitals as she prepped me for surgery.
I was beyond ready to start down the path toward healing.
I was looking rough when I got home from the surgery center . . .
When the nerve block wore off, I was feeling pretty rough too. The pain was something else, let me tell you. Thankfully, a phone call to the pharmacist helped us get my meds straight so I could start recovering with some measure of comfort.
Christmas sure did look a lot different last year, but thanks to the wonderful care provided by my hubby, I managed to get out and about, albeit very slowly and very infrequently while I regained my strength.
Figuring out how to get dressed was a daily struggle. I didn’t win any Best Dressed awards, that’s for sure. Comfort was the most important thing.
Although I’d been warned how tough the recovery would be, nothing could have prepared me for the beastly twice-weekly physical therapy appointments.
I almost threw up during the first one. It took a few visits before I actually started smiling during those pain-laden hours.
I haven’t done an exact count of the number of PT sessions I’ve had since this journey began, but I think a conservative estimate would be between 65 to 75.
I missed one week because of our cruise and maybe two and a half weeks while I waited for my second surgery.
It took me a long time to get comfortable with the fact that I would have a lot of tough weeks, with good days sprinkled in sporadically.
I wanted instant relief.
Yeah, that was a pipe dream. Ha!
Ibuprofen, Aleve, ice, and a heating pad became my best friends.
It took months for my arm to hang straight down. This photo was from last spring. You can see how I was still favoring the left arm. Gravity was not my friend – the pull on my shoulder still so painful.
During one of my follow-up appointments with my orthopedic surgeon in May, his nurse told me, “One day, you’ll realize that you’re not hurting as bad. It will happen out of the blue.”
She was right.
I finally hit that milestone nine or ten months into my recovery, but when I did, I almost felt like crying – because it was a blessed respite given that I was in the midst of h-e-l-l thanks to the June surgery on my other shoulder.
Undergoing two shoulder surgeries in a six-month time span isn’t for the faint of heart.
Although the journey has been l-o-n-g, as my physical therapist likes to say, I’m moving forward. That’s what’s important.
I couldn’t reach my arm straight up one year ago.
I certainly wasn’t decorating a tree last year.
That’s a new tree – a temporary one until next year when I can help the Mr. lift our much bigger, heavier pre-lit tree.
I’m still in physical therapy one afternoon a week, and I still experience pain for a day or two afterward. Strengthening my angry muscles has been a tedious affair. Regaining mobility has been absolutely grueling.
I’d say my left shoulder is about 90% better. The rotator cuff on that side starts yelling when I’ve over exerted myself, and my bicep doesn’t enjoy it if I reach too far across the front of my body. Weirdly enough, my shoulder feels okay when I reach behind my back, which I couldn’t do even three months ago. Yay me!
The difference from where I was last year is incomparable, and I find myself so in awe of what God has done for me.
It’s been a hard year but I’m thankful for the mile markers that I’ll always have to look back on when the next challenging season of my life hits.
God is always with me. He never abandons me. He’s my strength, provider, and healer. I am nothing without Him.
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