I got a lemon. No, not like a fruit, as in a crap deal. My shoulder already has its problems. Both of them, actually. Chronic tendonitis. Well, two weeks ago, when I fenced in those two tourneys for epee and foil, when I hurt my shoulder? Rather, I thought it was just a flare up of tendonitis without any further complications, something that ice and anti-inflammatories would take care of.

Wrong!

Though, I still hope it’s just that. Maybe it is. After two weeks of the shoulder not getting better—worse, if anything, my coach said I should see the doc. I’d already called the doc, who said to ice and rest. Called again, saw her this morning.

She said stuff like, “rotator cuff” and “MRI” and “orthopedist” and “frayed” and frowned an awful lot. So yeah, I got referred to an ortho doc. Called up the one she recommended (I’ve also heard from several other folks that he’s a really good doc). First appointment with him was for December 6th. Too long. I said I needed to get in sooner. Fine, set me up with one of the physician assistants there. What? November 23rd? Fine, I’ll take that.

Then I called the ortho I’ve seen before. He’s got an opening on Thursday morning. Nice.

Now, the doc didn’t say not to fence. Except my friends are saying, “You’re an idiot if you fence.”

…

Gabriel swore at himself for not having more sympathy. Mathias had to deal with a lot more than he did, all that stuff going on in his head, having to see those doctors all the time, having to take all those medications.

But he couldn’t help but think that sometimes, his brother was just a shithead.

Categories: medical adventures