As it turns out, my shoulder pain is not related to my broken collarbone. I have sprained the AC joint (acromioclavicular) in my shoulder, which is so close to my broken collarbone that it was understandable for me to have jumped to that conclusion.
The doctor suggested I do some gentle exercise with a bottle of water or a bag of sugar in my right hand and slowly rotate the arm in ever increasing circles. To be honest, I only heard up to “do some gentle exercise” and my ears shut down in shock!
So, that was some good news, I wasn’t really looking forward to having my collarbone broken and being in pain for 6 weeks! What’s the point of having a month and a half off work if you can’t play either console or computer games, can’t drive or masturbate? What a waste.
Work has been ridiculously busy again this week, although I had a six-month appraisal yesterday that went rather well and today my work Blackberry arrived. I have no idea what to do with it at the moment but I’ve seen misslaula hunched over hers in the evenings, her face a rictus mask of barely contained rage and frustration so I’m sure something like that should come easily to me.
I left the house this morning following a really heavy shower. Although this is good news for the garden, it’s not such good news for the Farnborough airshow we have tickets for on Saturday! My fingers are crossed that it clears up a bit before then and we have glorious clear skies with which to see all the planes. I don’t think this year is going to be quite as good as some recent shows as they aren’t launching any exciting new jets but hopefully we’ll see some magnificent flying machines and I’ll probably post some pics to Flickr.
Must rush, need to get home and tidy up the place a little bit. Laura’s parents are staying over at our place (well, their place really) on Saturday night so I need to make sure we put away all the clothes and tidy all the rubbish. Hmm, I should probably mow the lawn too as Laura’s dad will want to have a look at how the garden is getting on. Last time Laura went out there she complained about barely making it back to the house in one piece after noticing the plumpkin... sorry, pumpkin plant’s voracious invasion of the vegetable patch and entire bottom corner of the garden.
I’ve been living in the Woolston house for nine months now. I registered with a local doctor last week and have an appointment tomorrow. I think I suffer from that stereotypically British attitude of not wanting to be too much trouble and so I’m always reluctant to go bother a doctor (or complain about a crap meal in a restaurant). However, things are starting to come to a head now and I’m in quite a lot of discomfort on a daily basis.
Back in what I think was 2003, I crashed my CBR600 and broke my right collarbone. Stupid low-speed crash that did cosmetic damage to the bike and some slightly more serious structural damage to me. At the time I was seen by an army medic at Winchester hospital who told me there wasn’t anything they could do to set it and I would just need to keep my arm in a sling for 6 weeks and wait for it to heal. Obviously after a week or so I started to move it around to try to get some exercise and make sure the muscles didn’t weaken. I think I had one more appointment with a doctor to get a sick note to sign me off work and after that nothing, I didn’t see another medical professional about it.
Over the years since then I’ve been to the gym, I’ve ridden motorbikes, lifted and carried very heavy objects at work and at home, with little to no complaint from my misaligned clavicle. Recently, I suppose over the last 6 months in particular, I’ve been finding it increasingly more difficult to sleep on my left side, which has become a habit since I was recovering from the injury and had pillows under my right side to prevent me from rolling onto it in my sleep. I’ve noticed when walking my right shoulder has almost a stoop to it, as if I’m favouring it. It aches almost every day and my new car has a seatbelt point that is lower than my old one, almost behind my right shoulder rather than above it. This puts pressure on my collarbone and really doesn’t help it feel better. Stupid car, just another reason to get rid of it, but I’ll indulge my francophobia another day. It’s hypochondria today :-)
I saw a doctor last year for a Bupa health check, courtesy of work. The doctor I spoke to there, aside from telling me I was borderline type-2 diabetic (or “fat” as it used to be called), told me that if my collarbone hadn’t healed properly, or had set badly, I wouldn’t be standing properly. Bad posture would affect the muscles in my back and neck, causing unnecessary tension and possibly migraines. Also, the discomfort at night might cause disrupted sleep which I know is one of my triggers for migraines. So, putting 1 and 1 and 2 together, I’m starting to suspect that my shoulder pain is indirectly causing migraines. I’m going to let the doctor know. I don’t want to bombard him with symptoms as this is my first appointment with a new doctor but I’ll give him the full story. I probably won’t mention the occasional dizziness and nausea I’ve been experiencing recently. I don’t know if it’s related to the stomach bug sickness I had or if it’s caused by the constant discomfort of a dodgy collarbone.
I imagine, if he agrees with me that the collarbone is dodgy, I’ll have to be booked into hospital to have it deliberately broken and reset. Ouch. I remember last time how much that hurt and I had to have 6 weeks off work. Considering I may have a 3 day training course in the US in August, a holiday with Miss Laula and Owen shortly after that and then a week in the US in October, I’m going to be hard pushed to squeeze in 6 weeks recovery time before November. Thankfully, given the state of the NHS waiting lists, they probably won’t offer me a surgery date before that anyway!
Next update will probably be a moan about my crap car and how the World Cup has fuelled my diminishing xenophobia.
Possibly the most common subject heading of any Livejournal post.
I don't know what it is about journalling or diary-ing but I've grown out of the habit of doing it. I used to do it often. More than once a day at some point but things change right? Mostly my lifestyle and work situation in my case.
I'm on a bit of a downer at the moment. It happens, like the proverbial rollercoaster ride, there are ups and downs and now is one of my downs. However cliched it may be for the tortured artist to be at their most productive during dark moods (and rather than Picasso or Sylvia Plath I'm thinking more of Brian from Spaced here) it seems to be the truth, for me at least because I'm writing again.
I heard that saying again recently, "If you find a job doing something you love, you'll never work another day in your life" or something equally sickening. What a load of old toss. Who actually enjoys what they do? Even someone who does what I will one day do (if I can get my fucking arse into gear and do something about it), someone who writes for a living, even they will have bad days. Days when the words don't come out, or their brain is exploding or, on a lighter note, when they're happy and distracted and... ooh! A Squirrel!
So every job is crap, right? I shouldn't feel bad about mine because, in comparison, some other jobs are much worse. I'm not doing those fucking jobs though, so I've earned the right to moan about mine and why shouldn't I? Does it make me feel better? Yes, in a way.
It's cathartic to have a good moan and get things off your chest. A problem shared is a problem halved (allegedly) and in describing your issues to someone else, you may discover a solution to your problem. I often find humour in my ranting, starting off on a subject that I am passionate about in a furious storm of bile and bitterness, only to find myself saying something totally bizarre and irrational, something I absolutely don't believe for a second and wouldn't normally suggest out loud. At this point I start to smile to myself and can't keep a straight face. It is at this point I realise how ridiculous I'm being and that I appear to have ranted myself off the edge of reason into some farcical absurdity.
I love those moments and I'd like to think they keep me sane. They're much better for me than the self-destructive drinking or drug taking phases I have been through in my youth. My body appears to be telling me I shouldn't do those things any more. I decided smoking was a idiotic thing to do and so I quit. However, my body decided that drinking was also an idiotic thing to do and tells my brain to give me apocalyptic size, migraine & vomit-inducing hangovers that ruin the entire day following a night of drinking. It may seem odd, but I weighed up my options and decided to give up drinking. Mostly.
The blurry nights of frolics and dancing (I am far too self-conscious to ever dance sober) are not worth the 8 hour bed-bound hangovers the day after. Fuck that. There's very little worth that kind of pain. So I've resorted to the one vice left to me now I no longer drink or smoke (oh and I don't consider sex to be a vice... it's erm... a necessary entertainment) and ranting is that vice.
I will make an effort to start writing here again. Although it's nearly 17.30 on a Friday afternoon and I should now be leaving, it's been fun. I will definitely do this again. Soon.
I have this bizarre need to share with no-one in particular (ie. the audience of this journal) why I hope I can break my collarbone again. I know, weird isn't it? I'll explain later.