My Chiropractor, who had diagnosed my shoulder pain as a bone spur, has given up on treatment. He originally admitted that there may not be any improvement and that he wouldn't wait too long before referring me to an orthopedic surgeon. I visited the surgeon yesterday, who is convinced it is a torn ligament, and sent me for an arthrogram/MRI today. Ouch! He warned me there would be a needle involved, so I fretted all last night and this morning. Neal wasn't too encouraging last night when he told me about having the same procedure on his knee several years ago. He was very evasive when I asked questions about the pain. Fortunately, they gave me a shot of novacaine first (which was painful in itself), but that numbed it somewhat for the REAL needle that they worked into my joint to administer all manner of dyes and fluids. Once they were assured that all the fluids were where they should be, I was ready for the MRI. Forty-five minutes of lying in positions that my shoulder didn't like. Next appointment is with the surgeon on Wednesday to discuss results.
I honored the long-standing Smith tradition of treating myself to a milkshake afterwards. While growing up, my mom would always take me for a milkshake after a particularly traumatic doctor's appointment which included shots, first gynecology exam, etc. -- you get the picture. I continued the tradition with my sons and they grew to expect the ritual visit to Braums after any doctor's appointment that included a needle. When Jeff was in college and suffering with back problems, he had to get regular epidural shots in order to get through the baseball season. He felt compelled to stop at Dairy Queen for a milkshake after each one! Who knows, maybe Grandpa took my mom for milkshakes after she got shots. (Did they immunize back then?) Anyway, the tradition is still alive and this time I added a burger and fries.