Rip, tear, stab

Several years ago I tore my left rotator cuff. And now, apparently, I have torn the right one. To be precise I have torn my supraspinatus muscle. Basically that means it hurts when I move my arm in certain directions. Generally only a 0.5 to 1/10 on the pain scale. You forget pain sometimes and sometimes you don't and sometimes you move it in a direction it doesn't want to go and the pain goes up to a 4 or 5/10.

"How did I do it?" I hear nobody asking. Well I'll tell you. I first tore my right rotator cuff while sitting on the toilet. Yes. The toilet. Please stop giggling and let me finish. I was sitting on the toilet and I was out of toilet paper. And I had to reach up and back to get some. And I said ouch, good golly that smarts. I didn't tear it. I had just annoyed it.

So. Yes. My painful shoulder started as a toilet-related accident.

Fast forward a month. And I'm sleeping soundly. And I roll over onto my shoulder. And I abruptly woke up. I said words. I said loud words. I used, shall we say, more colourful metaphors. I jumped out of bed in total searing pain. I could not easily go back to sleep. (And, now that I think about it, I haven't slept well since).

The "Tom's been bad and I'm waiting for physio" face.

The "Tom's been bad and I'm waiting for physio" face.

So. To recap. I injured my rotator cuff on the toilet and I tore my rotator cuff while sleeping.

I'm such an elite athlete.

My shoulder isn't going to repair itself, so off to physiotherapy I go.

Physiotherapy is fun. In the same way as <insert something that you think is not fun because I have no creatively at the moment> is. OK. It's not fun. But it does make my shoulder feel better.


Our first meeting she tests me and pulls me and pushes me.

"Resist me when I push down". I resist. She says "No resist me". I say "i am". She says "oh," and types copious notes into the computer. 

Apparently I have lost a little more strength than I had thought. Well. Actually. Almost all strength is lost. Oh bother. This will take some time (and some money) to fix. Oh double bother.

Needles and attachments. Oh. My.

Needles and attachments. Oh. My.

It's been several weeks and now we are still in the repair and loosen phase of physio. We start each session with a good dose of massage and stretching and massage and stretching. Then, after that bit comes my favourite bit: acupuncture with electronic stimulation. 

She inserts four tiny needles into my skin. I feel a little prick but once they are in I don't even notice they are there. Then she attaches little clips to each needle and then attaches a battery pack to the clips. Then she slowly turns the power on. Presently I'm on 5 out of 10 on one of the needles and 3 on the others. The higher the number the more power. The power cycles on and off. On and off. On and off. For 10 minutes.

If you'd like to see what it does, I'll just leave you with the video below. Sorry about the shakiness, but I am quite literally being shocked. Oh. Sure. It's just a small battery pack but its a battery pack attached to needles that are in my skin.


I've been having a rough time lately… I think I'm in the middle of "maleopause". So doing what I normally do in these situations… I go to Google.

In urban dictionaries' definition I can tick off 11 of the 13 symptoms. I normally would not rely on Urban Dictionary, unless I need to figure out what the kids are talking about (Oh that's what UNF means), so let's look this up further and see what it's really called.


So checking the symptoms on a more reliable source here… Of the 8 symptoms listed I have 7. That can't be good.

I guess what this means is that I'll be going to the doctor's (I'm due for my annual physical soon) and I'll be getting a bucketful of bloodwork. And then my doctor and I will sit down for a chat. I love chats with my doctor. It's not that I have a problem talking about these things, clearly not: I'm telling you, it's just that when I talk to my doctor his answer is 1 of 2 things: take this pill OR there is nothing wrong with you. I dislike when he tells me either.

In this case, however, I'm hoping for number 1. Give me a pill and make everything better. If not that then I hope that my doctor goes all radical and tells me to eat more broccoli or whatever. At this point I'll do whatever it takes. Honestly. This fatigue is getting my down. Literally, figuratively, and many other 'lys, yet to be named.

So, yup I think I'm in andropause. And I can only conclude one thing… I'm middle aged… On the other hand… if 45 is middle aged, does that mean I'm gonna live to 90? OH gawd, I need to go to the gym.