Good Thing The Throttle’s On The Right
Finally got the left shoulder I dislocated on a kangaroo’s ass last June reassessed at an American hospital.
I lucked out and got x-rayed by a cute radiologist with a Boston accent.
“Hold your breath when I click this button”
No problem, I was already asphyxiating myself in an effort to flex my four-pack. I was tempted to ask her out to P.F. Chang’s (next door) but couldn’t make the dots connect. Meeting chicks in a shirtless environment puts scrawny dudes like myself at a disadvantage… that, plus the fact that my mum insisted on accompanying me to the hospital pretty well sank my ship before I could get the sails unfurled and needless to say, I left Lahey Radiology sans digits.
Unfortunately, the subsequent consultation with the orthopedic surgeon wasn’t much more encouraging.
He looked at the x-rays professionally and turned to me, describing the damage as “quite bad” with an authoritative nod and well-practiced expression of concern.
I made an appointment for an MRI and the surgical options were laid out for me.
Apparently the procedure would involve slicing open my shoulder, wedging some tissue from a dead guy in there, then boring out my collarbone so that some medical grade Zip-Ties could be run through and cinched up locking my arm in its proper place. As an afterthought, he mentioned that I could expect to be mono-armed for no less than six months afterwards.
Not exactly the carbon-fiber cybernetic robot arm I had been hoping for… I’ve got to stop playing Deus Ex.
Maybe I’ll give that physical therapy thing a try after all.
Or start riding slower.