I like to think that I’m put on this earth to make all the stupid mistakes, get all the dopey ailments, and then publish them to the internet and save others from doing the same thing.
I like to think that, anyway.
Last week, I had what I thought was an asthma attack. Fluttering and pain in my chest. Headache and shoulder ache. Which is not abnormal for me. I dutifully began the breathing treatments and even went to the doctor and got a steroid to keep from getting sick. I was bound and determined not to lose my newly found healthy momentum.
On Thursday morning, I woke up feeling pain in my chest again. The daily headache was beginning in my shoulders and neck. By that afternoon, I was in significant pain and had difficulty breathing. A trip to the chiropractor revealed I’d dislocated something in my shoulder.
But the pain in my chest only got worse. Later that night, I was in tears and a little bit scared at how difficult it was to breathe. Andrew and I paid a visit to the ER. Hardly a romantic evening. The doctor seemed pretty sure I had a blood clot, so we spent a tense hour waiting on test results.
By God’s grace, the test was negative and I was sent home with lots of painkillers. The consensus was that my pain was simply muscular, related to my shoulder injury. Shoulder muscles are connected to rib muscles, blah, blah, blah.
I spent the next 24 hours packed in ice like a trout. I fell asleep with frozen blueberries on my chest and woke up covered in blueberry juice. Slowly, the pain receded and on Saturday, I felt back to normal.
Now it’s Sunday and I’m coming to realize that this isn’t going to be as quick of a recovery as I’d like. All of the muscles in my arm and chest are inflamed and grumpy. I have very limited use of my right arm. MY RIGHT ARM.
How did I get this ridiculous injury? Our best guess: nursing. That’s right, keeping my tiny little hoss of a boy fed has crippled me. I suspect it has to do with nursing with my shoulder propped up while using the laptop.
But don’t tell Andrew. He’ll take my laptop away.
So, it’s back to icing and ibuprofen round the clock. I’m only using my arm when I have to. Which is often. I am a mother, after all.
I tell you all of this so you’ll know it’s possible to sustain an injury while sitting absolutely still on your couch. Maybe you can avoid your own trip to the ER for breastfeeding-related wounds.
And now I’d like to come up with a much better story for how I lost the use of my right arm. Football, maybe? Wrestling match? Toilet-plunging? Anybody got a good war wound story I can tell?