So those of you who read on a regular basis will recall (some of you fondly) my recent problems with my shoulder. Now honestly, that's a problem that has sorta plagued me for the better part of 10 years, and just kept getting progressively worse.
Well, after some rather agonizing therapy at the hands of Amanda the Wicked, my shoulder has finally started to feel somewhat better. But wait---it gets better.
So the other night, the kids and I are out walking the dogs--each with one on a leash. I, of course, have Midnight the Wonder Dog (who's photo I would love to show you if MY WIFE WOULD EVER DOWNLOAD HIS PHOTO--ahem, that was a gentle reminder there oh-love-of-my-life) and as usual, he's going on the great squirrel hunt. Midnight is documented and listed as the number 1 squirrel chaser in the ENTIRE state of Florida, and dare I say--perhaps the entire southern region of the great United States of America. The problem with having a dog of this rare pedigree is that....on occasion....he'll see a squirrel and begin to, ya know.....run at full sprint towards the squirrel in question---before you realize that he's at top speed.
That's exactly what happened the other day, when the wonder dog took off at full speed and decided to take any remaining youth in my left elbow along with him.
There was this audible.......POP.....and all I know is that it hurt like hell. I get home, and the wife, being an occupational therapist who deals with injuries to the hand and arm below the elbow basically does nothing. What...did she think I would sue??
So, although I was in some discomfort for a couple of days, I gritted it out ("tougher than nails", that's what they call me) and eventually the pain subsided. That was of course, until I had the brilliant idea to play basketball with my kids last night. Now, besides the fact that most of you are probably thinking---BASKETBALL??
Yes, despite my "round mound of rebound"-esque appearence, I happen to be pretty good at basketball. Why? Well, quite frankly, I cheat. And usually I play kids that are a lot smaller than me that don't realize I'm cheating. Anyway, early in the game I go for a beautiful jumpshot, extend my arm (let me repeat that---I extend my arm).....and sure as hell, my arm was gone--again. This time, the wife happened to be standing there (not PLAYING mind you, but I digress) and saw my distress.
Well, I guttedout a few more minutes on the court, pushing the kids around, fouling whenever the occasion called for it...and then I headed inside. The wife told me, that in a RARE ACT of kindness, that she would take a look at my arm and give me some therapy. Kindness my ass.
So she takes my hand and says that she wants to perform a theraputic test for something called "lateral epicondylitis". She does the test, I immediately scream in pain and she says:
"Yep, you definitely have it."
"I have what?"
"Tennis elbow."
"How the hell can I have tennis elbow? I don't play tennis. (By the way, I really am this stupid in real life as this was an ACTUAL conversation we had last evening)
"It doesn't have anything to do with tennis...that's just what therapists call it."
"But I can't have that. I should have that in my right arm if anything. That's the arm that I threw baseballs with, footballs with---my left arm hasn't done shit for 43 years.
How come that's the one that gets tennis elbow?"
"Well I don't know, but you have it. That's what I just tested you for and based on your reaction, there's no doubt."
Aren't I smart? What a dipshit. It wasn't until this evening, a full day later, that it suddenly popped into my head and I asked my wife....
"Hey, if you hyperextend your elbow--could that lead to tennis elbow?"
"Yeah."
"Ya know....like say if YOUR DOG JERKED YOUR ELBOW out of joint???"
It was about that time that Midnight decided to relocate to another room.
Anyway, getting back to last night, after her diagnosis, the wife decided to give me what is called a "friction massage". No, not that kind of friction massage. She proceeds to grab my arm at the elbow and rubbing it like she's giving me an Indian burn or something. Holy shit, I had water coming to my eyes. Amanda the Wicked is like Princess Grace compared to the savagery of a wife---MY WIFE---getting the opportunity to inflict pain---for free, with no chance of reprisal--on her husband.
And get this....she tells me that she was doing all this to....
"Increase the bloodflow to the injured area."
I told her if she rubbed any harder, there was going to be bloodflow allrighty, it was going to be coming directly out of my arm onto her hands.
And she gets paid for this?
Later,
Jeff
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