bloggingitis

I self-diagnosed my...self...with tendinitis in my right shoulder. Tendinitis is a four-vowel word that simply means the tendon(s) in the afflicted area hurt like a red hot poker dipped in acid whenever I dare ask my arm to do something functional like lift or reach back. The worst and most offensive activity to my irritated limb is getting dressed. Oh my goodness, I swear, every time I put a shirt on or take one off I vow that it will be the last until this heals up. It's been a week so according to the Internet I have about another two to go. Flip a coin: every day is going to be either pajama day or birthday suit day. Heads I win, tails you lose.

I hurt my shoulder shoveling snow. I was so focused on lifting with my knees and protecting my back I didn't consider at all that my arm needed any attention. Now it certainly is commanding it, reminding me every chance it gets the consequences of lifting and throwing a kilogram of snow repeatedly.

"I thought you went to the gym," my mom said when I told her about the injury. Yeah, I guess I now regret skipping out on doing reps with the snow shovel bench press machine.

So I've been limiting my workouts to just the cardio machines until the itis takes leave. I've tried a few different therapies--ice, heat, ointments, wine, shopping...On Tuesday I have a massage appointment. How perfect that I find myself in need of a paramedical service during my final days of my generous benefits package with the Cardboard Box Factory. Five more days, yo.