since an unidentified driver smashed into my car and fled on foot, leaving me injured, in shock, and with a heavy list of losses to count. The heaviest loss was the use of my left arm for a time, as the muscles surrounding my left shoulder had been crushed so badly that the communication between the muscle fibers and my nervous system went silent. For a time, my left arm was a dead weight.
It was months before I could hang from my arms again, and more months until I could do a straddle up. I was pissed and frustrated but I forced myself to stop at the point of pain, even when I felt I could handle more. I rebuilt that shoulder with help from my Doc (dad) and my PT, And it happened VERY SLOWLY. I gave up an international contract I could have probably done, but it would have meant pushing my recovery, and I didn't want a rush job. I was afraid that if I pushed my recovery too hard, the result would be cave man muscle. Stupid muscle. Brutish, mouth-breathing muscle. And I wanted an intelligent, resilient, eloquent muscle. I wanted a shoulder that could learn French if it had to.
So maybe it took 9 months where it could have taken 5, but I'm so glad I didn't push it. Cause now my left arm is stronger and more intelligent than my right. To commemorate the day, I give you the result of what was at the time, mind-numbingly slow progress:
This would have been totally impossible without the mass of support I had, the excellent care I was so fortunate to have access to right away (love you Doc), and his very sound advice that if I really didn't want this to be the end, I was going to have to take the slow lane.
Wanted to say thanks to all of you who sat with me while I cried and cursed on the mats, and to Doc, and to the kind souls who live at that intersection, who took such care with me that night.
Healing takes time. If you're stuck being hurt, try to give your meat-suit what it needs. <3 p="">