The Shoulder

On the morning of August 28th I woke up early.  I never wake up early.  I'm always late.  I love to sleep, a total night owl.  Anyway, I woke up early because I was so excited to be doing my 2nd River's Edge 50 Mile Mountain Bike Race at the National Whitewater Center.  Last year I won, pretty easily actually.  And that was even after running out of water with an hour to go. 

But this year, there would be some competition, 10 other girls, and our former pro Patty Smith, who started our local female mountain biking club, The Dirt Divas.  The USNWC is her backyard, her best course.  So I was ready for a tough race, a good battle. 

I took it easy at the local race the previous Wednesday night.  And even took Thursday and Friday off.  That's tough for me.  Rest days are not fun!

I actually purposefully hydrated Friday and selected my food, instead of eating whatever my two year old threw on the floor.

So I was excited, I felt good.  I got there early, set everything up at my shared tent.  Road to the start line and lined up in front, announcing I was the female winner from last year, so I earned a spot up here.  No arguments, come on up.  Nice.  This was good, I was ready...let's go. 

And we finally went, got a decent start, road on the pavement, entered the Whitewater Center, onto the gravel, into the single track.  Doing well, feeling good.  In a pack of guys riding a little slow, but decent.  A guy stops at the beginning of a rocky climb and I don't make it around him.  No problem, I move over and keep riding.  I get to the top of the little climb, go around the rooty tree, and get ready for a roll drop.  Well of the left side of the drop where you get to roll down, a guy has stopped.  Hm...what to do.  I always go left, I mean ALWAYS go left.  Is there another line?  Do I do the drop?  Can I?  Do I ask him to move?  Do I stop and walk down the drop?  No!  That would be silly, this is a race, GO!  And boom!  Front wheel hits, I hit, bike hits me, in that order.

I can't get up, I can't move.  I ask some nice guy to please move me out of the trail.  He picks me and my bike up and I hop back on.  Oh, wait a minute, my right arm is numb, weird.  I try to break as I approach a rock garden.  OUCH!  Oh shit.  This is bad.  Now I feel pain.  I'm screaming, I'm crying, I'm so freaking embarrassed!  I reach up to my right shoulder with my left hand, and ugh, I feel nauseous.

So what do I do next.  I decide to RUN with my bike, I mean really run.  It's a race right.  I don't want to loose too much time.  I run as I far as I can then realize I could run faster without the bike.  I drop the bike, and run back out the start finish, and ask for a medic.  Another lady says she's a doctor, good, I thought,  No not good!

Okay, I won't stretch this out.  Let's just say that they thought I had dislocated my shoulder and tried to POP is back into place for almost two hours, before her partner another doc gave up and sent me to the emergency room. 

For the record for the first hour, I fully expected to go back our there and finish the race.  I mean I ate for the race, I was ready to ride 50 miles, not 1.5.  I had never DNF'd before.  I was so mad, so so mad!

Anyway, I called hubby and he and the boy met me at the emergency room.  Here's a picture of the beautiful shoulder waiting to see a doc.

And here the x-ray they took after injecting so many drugs into me that I passed out.  Nurse: pain scale from 1 to 10.  Me: 1.  Nurse:  Okay double dose of anti-nausea, and horse dose of pain killer.  Awesome.  I'm sure they loved billing for it too.

Turns out my shoulder was not dislocated, but torn.  Imagine that after someone try to tear my arm off to two hours while putting my un-dislocated shoulder back into place.  Homeward bound with a simple sling, more drugs, and a referral to a ortho doc.  Another lovely angle of the shoulder.

Monday I saw a youngish, fancy surgeon, Dr. Marcus Cook, at Perry Orthopedics.  They were recommended to me at the bike race.  He spent about 37 second with me, didn't look at my shoulder and said I needed surgery.  I had a 5th degree tear of all the joints (maybe it would have only been two if someone hadn't tugged on my arm for two hours after I fell???)  Oh and the procedure, would cost $25,000 minimum.  Okay, I held it together just long enough for him to leave the room.  The nurse walked me over to surgery scheduling and I broke down.  Tears streaming down my face, remember I'd hydrated so well.  It was pretty bad.  I felt sorry for the poor scheduler.  But she was nice;  even called my insurance company and got the complete out of pocket expense breakdown.  Surgery Thursday 5am, love mornings, great!

Tuesday for my sanity, I met with another ortho doc at OrthoCarolina, older, more experienced, nicer, spent a lot of time with me answering questions., etc.  He recommended the same thing, surgery, but a different way and different type. 

Not to get dogged down in the medical mumbo jumbo, but here goes.  Fancy doc would do the surgery arthroscopically with a rig made from Ti and cadaver tissue to rebuild the ligaments and joint.  He would cut me open only if the scope was not working well enough, and then maybe have to use a screw.  Old doc would just cut me open and use the screw, because it was easier.  Hmm.  One guy spent 37 seconds with me, but I have more confidence in his procedure.  The second is sweet and nice but seems outdated.

So I went for Mr. Fancy Yougish Doctor, aka Dr. Cook.

I sold both my bikes to pay for the surgery.  That was really sad.  But with a 12 week recovery time ahead I though I'd have time to figure something out...

Morning of surgery, I did not wake up early.  But got there early thanks to hubby.  Got a nerve block before the surgery, kind of like an epidural for your arm (note I had Jack drug free).  Surgery went well.  Recovery so far has been a lot of time in bed, lots of pain meds, and a pretty unhappy mountain biker.  What did you expect?

Here's a shot of the shoulder a few days after surgery.

This morning I had my first post op appointment.  The nurse took off the glue stickers from my cuts, and the doc came in all smiles, like he had just saved the world, or ate a worm.  I mean really, he was giddy.  Seriously though, he did a great job.  My shoulder looks good, function is very good for one week post op.  He spent a lot of time going over the scope pictures and explaining the new rig in my shoulder.  He was proud.  It was cute.  I thanked him, probably not enough, but how could I.  Seriously, thank you for giving me half my upper body back.  I really appreciate my right arm not hanging down two inches lower than my left.  What flavor of cookies covers that Martha?

Here's a shot of the new contraption in my shoulder.  Pretty cool, huh?

First rehab appointment next Tuesday after I drop Jack off at school.  Soooo excited!!!