Mending and remembering
According to the surgeon, my current range of motion is what he expected 6 weeks out rather then less than 2. He was very pleased. I'm out of the sling, unless I want it for comfort. My first thought was "What could possibly be comfortable about that SOB?' Then I realized part of the problem I was having pre-surgery was muscle spasms caused by my hunching up my shoulder and moving my arm with neck & back muscles rather than allow the arm to swing from the shoulder joint because of the pain of doing just that. Apparently the bone spur was right on top of a tendon, fraying it, which is why the damn thing hurt all the time and not just when I moved it. I had Arthroscopic Acromioplasty (removal of bone spur from the tip of the shoulderblade), Debridement (removal of inflamed tissue & bursa & extensive scar tissue) and also a Distal Clavicle Resection which is removal of the last 1/2 to 3/4 inch of the collarbone. Yeah, no wonder it's been hurting like blue blazes. After the surgery, I was restricted to passive motion, meaning I couldn't actively move my right arm hold anything in my right hand. Now he says, 'Let the pain be your guide.' Fortunately, I have no repairs to protect. Had I not had the surgery, the bone spur would have torn the tendon and the rotator cuff, which would have meant more extensive surgery and at least 6 weeks immobile in a sling. Let's hear it for preventive surgery! OT has been somewhat painful, but very worthwhile. I've been diligently doing the exercises at home twice daily and I think that's what made the difference. That and the fact the surgeon took my arm through a full manipulation while I was unconscious and unaware he was ripping all that scar tissue loose. He asked, "Have you ever ripped heavy cloth? It sounded like ripping denim." ~shudder~
The time off work has been fabulous and was much needed. I’ve read gobs, especially that first week when I could do little else but read and sleep. I'm going back Monday and looking forward to it. Need to make some calls today to set up appointments or I'll wind up sitting in my office twiddling my thumbs and not making a dime. It's a good job - the hourly rate is excellent, I make my own schedule, come and go as I please. All I have to do is make sure I see all my clients each week and do my paperwork on time. No clock-punching. However, no paid vacation or holiday. And the hourly rate is for billable hours only. If I'm not with a client, I'm not getting paid. The trade off is still worth it. I make about 20k more than I did working in an outpatient clinic from 8-5. Which is good, considering the amount of retail therapy I've indulged in the past couple of weeks. XD
I made a rather large order to Lathers n Lights and another to Love Potion/Mara Fox plus a couple or five decant circles. I also discovered MB: Ventriloquist Dummy was quite delicious on me and found great prices on a couple of bottles. And a partial bottle of Candy Butcher and well, if I'm ordering a bottle from someone, might as well see what else they're offering, right? The recent CBIHP scents worked so well on me, I'm considering ordering more, but need to test further, because as lovely as they are, they don't last anytime at all. :( The only one I didn't care for was Greenbriar 1968. Eternal Return nearly made me weep. whitephoenix was spot on wth her reviews. It's amazing the power of scent to trigger a memory. The first time I opened a jar of Peru Balsam, I burst into tears and was overwhelmed with a deep sense of longing and grieving a huge loss - but I didn't know what I had lost. I've never been able to put my finger on it and have the same reaction every time I open the jar, albeit not as intensely.
Speaking of memory and intense feeling, parrish_relics posted a picture of a gorgeously ornate antique Singer sewing machine here. My late aunt gave me one very much like it for a high school graduation gift. It sits on a shelf in my studio and I think of her every time I see it. I miss her so much. She was my mother's younger and only sister. She died very suddenly 18 years ago at 45 and left us all in shock and quite bereft. She was the quintessence of Fey. My father referred to her as 'Your crazy sister.' She was an artist, a poet and a madwoman (is that redundant?); her magic imbued everything she touched. I loved staying with her in the summer when school was out. Her oldest daughter was 3 years younger than I (she had 3 girls). When I was about 13, I was allowed to be part of the adult visit, rather than play with Robin and the little girls, which meant I got to drink coffe or tea and participate in the fascinating conversations of my aunt & mother. Once, my mother was in the hospital in Poplar Bluff, which is where my aunt lived. She came to visit Mama, wearing a smart black dress, spectator pumps & matching handbag and, of course, pearls. When she walked in, she said, "I've been so worried about you. I'll make coffee." Mama laughed until she cried (for those who weren't around for the sixties and soap operas, nevermind). When I stayed with her on my own, it was like a trip to another realm. We went to antique shops (read: dusty junk stores), had tea parties under spreading oaks, and talked of ghosties and faeries and long-dead characters from moldy books. She always singed her letters to me 'Your PissAunt'. There's a movie with Lionel Barrymore called On Borrowed Time - a young boy is orphaned and lives with his grandparents. His evil aunt Demetria keeps trying to get him away from them for the money he inherited. Gramps calls her a pismire and tells the boy, "That's the meanest ant there is" so the boy sings (to the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic) 'Aunt Demetria is a Pismire.' A Pismire is a Piss Ant. My aunt's name is Eugenia, which fit the song, hence PissAunt. She encouraged me to write and paint and taught me to feed my creative soul. She had bipolar disorder and went undiagnosed - and unmedicated - for years. She finally found someone who gave her a med that worked for her a couple of years before she died. We spent several weeks together through that time and it was such a gift.
The time off work has been fabulous and was much needed. I’ve read gobs, especially that first week when I could do little else but read and sleep. I'm going back Monday and looking forward to it. Need to make some calls today to set up appointments or I'll wind up sitting in my office twiddling my thumbs and not making a dime. It's a good job - the hourly rate is excellent, I make my own schedule, come and go as I please. All I have to do is make sure I see all my clients each week and do my paperwork on time. No clock-punching. However, no paid vacation or holiday. And the hourly rate is for billable hours only. If I'm not with a client, I'm not getting paid. The trade off is still worth it. I make about 20k more than I did working in an outpatient clinic from 8-5. Which is good, considering the amount of retail therapy I've indulged in the past couple of weeks. XD
I made a rather large order to Lathers n Lights and another to Love Potion/Mara Fox plus a couple or five decant circles. I also discovered MB: Ventriloquist Dummy was quite delicious on me and found great prices on a couple of bottles. And a partial bottle of Candy Butcher and well, if I'm ordering a bottle from someone, might as well see what else they're offering, right? The recent CBIHP scents worked so well on me, I'm considering ordering more, but need to test further, because as lovely as they are, they don't last anytime at all. :( The only one I didn't care for was Greenbriar 1968. Eternal Return nearly made me weep. whitephoenix was spot on wth her reviews. It's amazing the power of scent to trigger a memory. The first time I opened a jar of Peru Balsam, I burst into tears and was overwhelmed with a deep sense of longing and grieving a huge loss - but I didn't know what I had lost. I've never been able to put my finger on it and have the same reaction every time I open the jar, albeit not as intensely.
Speaking of memory and intense feeling, parrish_relics posted a picture of a gorgeously ornate antique Singer sewing machine here. My late aunt gave me one very much like it for a high school graduation gift. It sits on a shelf in my studio and I think of her every time I see it. I miss her so much. She was my mother's younger and only sister. She died very suddenly 18 years ago at 45 and left us all in shock and quite bereft. She was the quintessence of Fey. My father referred to her as 'Your crazy sister.' She was an artist, a poet and a madwoman (is that redundant?); her magic imbued everything she touched. I loved staying with her in the summer when school was out. Her oldest daughter was 3 years younger than I (she had 3 girls). When I was about 13, I was allowed to be part of the adult visit, rather than play with Robin and the little girls, which meant I got to drink coffe or tea and participate in the fascinating conversations of my aunt & mother. Once, my mother was in the hospital in Poplar Bluff, which is where my aunt lived. She came to visit Mama, wearing a smart black dress, spectator pumps & matching handbag and, of course, pearls. When she walked in, she said, "I've been so worried about you. I'll make coffee." Mama laughed until she cried (for those who weren't around for the sixties and soap operas, nevermind). When I stayed with her on my own, it was like a trip to another realm. We went to antique shops (read: dusty junk stores), had tea parties under spreading oaks, and talked of ghosties and faeries and long-dead characters from moldy books. She always singed her letters to me 'Your PissAunt'. There's a movie with Lionel Barrymore called On Borrowed Time - a young boy is orphaned and lives with his grandparents. His evil aunt Demetria keeps trying to get him away from them for the money he inherited. Gramps calls her a pismire and tells the boy, "That's the meanest ant there is" so the boy sings (to the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic) 'Aunt Demetria is a Pismire.' A Pismire is a Piss Ant. My aunt's name is Eugenia, which fit the song, hence PissAunt. She encouraged me to write and paint and taught me to feed my creative soul. She had bipolar disorder and went undiagnosed - and unmedicated - for years. She finally found someone who gave her a med that worked for her a couple of years before she died. We spent several weeks together through that time and it was such a gift.