I never had an MRI before.
It was weird, annoying and unlike what anything the guy told me “It’s like a jackhammer. Expect lots of noise.” Personally I believe within this white tunnel is where Dub Step music saw its creation.
I had fun in there for the first 10 minutes and than I started to be in tune with my body and before I knew it my muscles were involuntary (or voluntary) twitching on its own due to the full blast of radiowaves. See, I was given specific rules to not move at all in this tunnel otherwise the process has to start from the beginning all over again. So I stood as stiff as a hard cock and found this to be difficult because I’m generally very energetic and this is also why if I paint my nails I do it one hand at a time, never two. But what does that matter?
I made it through by listening to the Dub Step noise the tunnel made and went back into being in tune with my body where I felt so hot I forgot I was in an air-conditioned room with shorts on and for a second I thought I was experiencing the opening stages of menopause. The strange thing was I could feel each time those waves moved from one part of my body to the other although of course it’s supposed to be concentrated on my shoulder. Still, for some reason I felt everything that was going on. I felt the cramps it gave me during the last 10 minute of the 30 minute session and I no longer focused on my lower back hurting at all.
Allow me to make a note to myself and other women; it’s completely horrible how hospitals don’t care about a woman being covered up properly. Being entirely naked under a gown and large shorts may be enough for a man who sports a chest. Women should receive some kind of soft bra to go with that gown to have some kind of fabric on the nipple and keep it from poking out. I shouldn’t have to be covering my large breasts while an old dirty man who has no respect come up with creative ideas for me to let my arms off from them by offering a box so I can put my locker key into it. There are people in the world who aren’t considerate and don’t have the world of respect if they’re looking at people as objects. I felt extremely uncomfortable.
What angered me the most (besides living on planet earth and stupid people and weak women) besides not having a bra to go with my gown is I had to wait 5 fucking days to get the results for my shoulder. I hate suspense, and never watch the genre even in film.
I sat peering out the gigantic windows from the eleventh floor and right into the parking lot where I smiled as I stared at a tiny group playing Frisbee. They appeared happy. I was happy too. But part of me wasn’t. On one end I was happy because now I’m finally going to learn what the fuck is wrong with my shoulder and unhappy on the other because it took longer than some guy trying to wrap his head around the entire proposal of foreplay. I’m guessing, this is the timing it was meant to happen in. I say this because I believe in everything happening for a reason until there’s not a good reason, probably? I went through almost every episode upon seasons and all types of finales to come back to a full circle.
I didn’t need the orthopedic to waltz in the room carefree and well composed to inform me of something I knew for years now, which is, my shoulder adapting a screenplay of agonizing hell. I’ve no idea how I got it. I know I’ve worked through numerous sorts of pain. My only guess is it happened over time, so it’s impossible to pinpoint anything at this moment. I have good days. I have bad days. This involves training or no training at all with this shoulder.
This took me a while to figure out on my own. How much I could push and knowing when I have to be on reserve mode and recover fully in order to go hard again. It took time to slowly get my teres minor up to a place of little to no pain or what I call flare outs, deep inflammation. There are days it hurts in the anterior part of my shoulder. There are days when it only hurts posterior (where the rear delts are and how it trickles down to the teres minor, teres major and subscapularis) or deep with in the ball and socket. Some days it hurts everywhere and I wake up to a stiff shoulder with the rain bearing down on the decision to workout. It sucks monkey balls! But I’m dealing.
Before the doctor came into the room, the caretaker decided, (probably inappropriately timing?) to hand me over the papers stating my MRI results. I read the first few lines and had a dull ache in my heart. I swore I cried somehow internally. After I read all the various things (moderate tendinosis of the superior rotator cuff, Superior labral tear and trace glenohumeral joint effusion, fluid extending into the subscapularis recess; this may represent a paralabral cyst) occurring with this shoulder of mine I peered out once again to discover happiness in someone else’s and continued to watch the small group play Frisbee with laughs and joys, dances and no worries in the present.
I want to feel like that again about my body. I’m tired of being cautious and having to slow down. I’ve had enough of this patience thing life is clearly expressing to me. I want to assault like the way I know how, with my wild passion and chockfull of excitement. I want to throwdown when it comes to training and never look back.
So, what is a labral tear?
Will continue this further in another entry. Also this blue velvet is speaking to me right now. So enjoy it somehow. 😉