Thursday, March 1, 2012

The 7th and Final Dislocation


Seven dislocations. 1st one during softball. Next three snowboarding. Two more skydiving. One during jiu-jitsu. The 1st, 5th, and 7th were extremely painful. Each time it's a complete surprise.

It's impossible to describe, but dislocating my shoulder is the most embarrassing thing that I can do. I work out 3-5 days a week to strengthen the muscles that support the joint. I wear a brace. I limit my range of motion. Still, I can't keep my shoulder from cutting-short a day of skydiving or ruining jiu-jitsu class. All of my friends look at me inquisitively as I reduce my shoulder into the socket, "You gonna be alright?" I feign a smile and let my eyes stray away from theirs in shame.

It can be fixed with one of two surgeries. The choices are repairing the shoulder capsule or using a bone graft from my hip to shape the socket. My insurance covers most of the surgery; I can probably afford the portion that isn't covered. Typical recovery times are about 6 months for 80% strength. Yet, it's been seven years since my first dislocation, and I still haven't gotten my shoulder fixed.

Although dislocating my shoulder is embarrassing and it keeps me from doing what I love, I haven't been able to shake the fear of surgery. With any surgery there are obvious risks. The shoulder is such a complex joint; it has the largest range of motion of any joint. What if surgery doesn't fix it? What if it makes it worse? What if I never regain the strength I had before surgery? What if I dislocate it after surgery?

So, I'm left with three choices:
1. Stop doing all of the things I love,
2. Do the things I love and deal with the dislocations,
3. Get surgery and hope it works.

What would you do? Not number one. Take away skydiving, SCUBA, biking, snowboarding, motorcycles, skiing, swimming, running, football, softball, and tennis; What would be the point of living? Not number two. Two dislocations during skydiving are enough; no one should have that much practice at landing a parachute one-handed. That leaves option three, and although it's scary, it's gotta be done. The things that make me who I am are the same things that dislocate my shoulder. I'm left with no choice but to get surgery.

So, here it is. My pledge to get surgery. I will get my shoulder repaired. But I need your help. I will use all types of delusion and deceit to get out of it. As soon as the joint no longer hurts from this dislocation, I will convince myself that "Next dislocation is the one that I warrants surgery." When you see me, ask me how my shoulder is. Ask me when I am getting surgery. Remind me of my pledge. Force me to get surgery. I need it. Remind me that I can't be Julian without it. I need your support. I will hate it at the time. I will shy away from the scalpel. I will curse your name as I struggle through physical therapy after surgery.  But some day, I will thank you, when I can skydive without thinking about my shoulder, when I can snowboard without a brace, when I can grapple without fear of shoulder pain. I will thank you.

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