Shouldering the responsibility (sorry)
...of keeping on track with rehab.
It's been a little rocky. Pushing myself in physical therapy seemed like a good idea at the time... I know that "no pain, no gain" is bad advice, but I'm willing to put up with present pain for future rewards. But I wasn't expecting as much subsequent pain as there turned out to be. Considering the level of pre-surgical pain I'd had (mostly after having pushing myself too hard because I just wanted to DO STUFF ALREADY), I probably should have anticipated this would happen. And it was bad enough that I had trouble getting myself to keep up with the home exercises, which are really important.
And, about four sessions in, I've had enough pain during therapy appointments that the therapist has had to scale it back. Not only the amount (sets and reps), but also types of exercises. I tried being brave, but a few times I found myself unable to continue. (The muscles actually rebelled; they spasmed and made it clear I was done for the day.)
My therapist is smart and very perceptive. We communicate well, and she knew when to say, "OK, stop. Forget that one; we'll try something else." It's nice feeling that I can trust her to keep me safe.
Still, one day things came to a head. I finally burst into tears. (And immediately wanted to sink into the floor. DAMMIT.) Richelle told me I needed to go easy: take as much medication, and as often, as I felt was safe, ice as much as possible (with the machine, that's a lot), and be very careful with the home exercises (which are just a few types of gentle stretches). She said the first priority was to get the pain under control (which it definitely was not). She even thought it might be a good idea to call the doctor to see if there are alternatives to Percocet that might help more than the already high levels of acetaminophen and ibuprofen I'm taking. (You can only take so much of those without risking liver and kidney damage.)
The last session was Friday. The next one isn't till Wednesday, and I don't have any other appointments to go to until then. B is able to be at home for most of the weekend, and I'm not being shy about asking for his help. His keeping the ice machine stocked and cold, and reminding me to ice, ice, ice and take enough meds, make such a difference. I hate giving him more to do -- he's got a lot on his plate already -- but he's so damn good at helping me.
Missy is, of course, in charge of morale and entertainment. General cuteness, demands for food and brushing (MOOOOMMY,PETMEPETMEPETME), and the usual goofy behavior are pleasantly distracting, if sometimes annoying. (We could do without the frequent "I'm so alone" yowls in the hallway and 4 AM calls to "come and watch me eat the food you put down five minutes ago.")
I've managed to keep doing the exercises -- a couple of light sessions a day, at least -- and to get out of the sling (although I've been advised to wean myself off it) often, and warm up a little and stretch. That actually makes the elbow and bicep more flexible and less painful.
I am aware that things could be a lot worse. One of my flisters is dealing with a frozen shoulder. She had her own rotator cuff repair years ago; now she's facing a painful procedure and her own tough rehab.
Anyhoo -- a couple of days of being careful, and I'm feeling better already; I can see light at the end of the tunnel again. Order more tunnel.
I've managed to finish a book for the first time in ages. I'm even thinking about working on one of the half-finished fanfics on the hard disk. Writing some hurt/comfort could be just what I need right now.
Speaking of which, can anyone recommend a few good hurt/comforty fanfics for me to read? (Doctor Who, Sherlock and Torchwood are good fandoms.)
It's been a little rocky. Pushing myself in physical therapy seemed like a good idea at the time... I know that "no pain, no gain" is bad advice, but I'm willing to put up with present pain for future rewards. But I wasn't expecting as much subsequent pain as there turned out to be. Considering the level of pre-surgical pain I'd had (mostly after having pushing myself too hard because I just wanted to DO STUFF ALREADY), I probably should have anticipated this would happen. And it was bad enough that I had trouble getting myself to keep up with the home exercises, which are really important.
And, about four sessions in, I've had enough pain during therapy appointments that the therapist has had to scale it back. Not only the amount (sets and reps), but also types of exercises. I tried being brave, but a few times I found myself unable to continue. (The muscles actually rebelled; they spasmed and made it clear I was done for the day.)
My therapist is smart and very perceptive. We communicate well, and she knew when to say, "OK, stop. Forget that one; we'll try something else." It's nice feeling that I can trust her to keep me safe.
Still, one day things came to a head. I finally burst into tears. (And immediately wanted to sink into the floor. DAMMIT.) Richelle told me I needed to go easy: take as much medication, and as often, as I felt was safe, ice as much as possible (with the machine, that's a lot), and be very careful with the home exercises (which are just a few types of gentle stretches). She said the first priority was to get the pain under control (which it definitely was not). She even thought it might be a good idea to call the doctor to see if there are alternatives to Percocet that might help more than the already high levels of acetaminophen and ibuprofen I'm taking. (You can only take so much of those without risking liver and kidney damage.)
The last session was Friday. The next one isn't till Wednesday, and I don't have any other appointments to go to until then. B is able to be at home for most of the weekend, and I'm not being shy about asking for his help. His keeping the ice machine stocked and cold, and reminding me to ice, ice, ice and take enough meds, make such a difference. I hate giving him more to do -- he's got a lot on his plate already -- but he's so damn good at helping me.
Missy is, of course, in charge of morale and entertainment. General cuteness, demands for food and brushing (MOOOOMMY,PETMEPETMEPETME), and the usual goofy behavior are pleasantly distracting, if sometimes annoying. (We could do without the frequent "I'm so alone" yowls in the hallway and 4 AM calls to "come and watch me eat the food you put down five minutes ago.")
I've managed to keep doing the exercises -- a couple of light sessions a day, at least -- and to get out of the sling (although I've been advised to wean myself off it) often, and warm up a little and stretch. That actually makes the elbow and bicep more flexible and less painful.
I am aware that things could be a lot worse. One of my flisters is dealing with a frozen shoulder. She had her own rotator cuff repair years ago; now she's facing a painful procedure and her own tough rehab.
Anyhoo -- a couple of days of being careful, and I'm feeling better already; I can see light at the end of the tunnel again. Order more tunnel.
I've managed to finish a book for the first time in ages. I'm even thinking about working on one of the half-finished fanfics on the hard disk. Writing some hurt/comfort could be just what I need right now.
Speaking of which, can anyone recommend a few good hurt/comforty fanfics for me to read? (Doctor Who, Sherlock and Torchwood are good fandoms.)