Tuesday, March 16, 2010

MRI time

Two months ago I hurt my shoulder while fighting a fire. No, my house wasn't burning down. I am a volunteer fire fighter, which is why I was inside a smoke filled house, SCBA on my back, a pike pole in my hands. That latter was a mistake. By the time my airpack ran out of air, I could hardly life my right arm. Doctor's visits followed, and weeks of physical therapy. When my arm still hurt every time I tried to lift anything larger than a carton of orange juice, I told the insurance company I need to see a shoulder specialist. Three weeks later I finally got in to see the doctor. He prescribed an MRI, which only took the insurance company another two weeks to approve. The arm doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it did two weeks ago, but then again, I haven't done much with it. I subscribe to the Archie Campbell school of medical thought (only those of you who grew up watching Hee Haw understand this reference): If it hurts when I do this or that, I don't do this or that.

So now, after all this waiting, I finally get to have a look inside my arm to see how severe of a labrial tear I have. Why we couldn't have done all of this when the injury first happened is beyond me. Hopefully the snapshot of the interior of my right shoulder will help bring all of this to a satisfying conclusion. I would really like to use my right arm again.

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