The recovery for my shoulder went pretty well. It was incredibly sore, and the painkillers they gave were not enough by any stretch of the imagination, though we didn't know why. For some reason my elbow and wrist was flaring in pain as well as my shoulder, which didn't seem right, but I didn't want to complain much.
I was able to sleep a lot with the sling on, and it was actually quite comfortable. I sort of balanced on my left and right sides with the sling leaning against the bed holding me in place. It was cozy as heck. Josh was really great in helping us out, when he wasn't working he was at our house. I couldn't shower for a little while, and since you can't sponge bath hair, we put a garbage bag over my shoulders and he washed my hair in the sink.
It was very difficult for me to start taking my arm out of the sling. They had told me to once and a while take it out and move it around a bit, but every time I did it, I was positive I was going to hear the sound of glass shattering and the Super Mario "Game Over" noise would play. Eventually I managed to get it out of the sling though and move it a little, and was quite proud of myself. So proud of myself that I decided my surgeon was probably wrong and nothing happened during my surgery, and everything went right so I didn't have to worry about anything!
So the day came that we had to go back to the surgeon and see him to find out how it went. We loaded up in the car, went to the bar, had some shots, then went to the surgeons office (just kidding, we went straight to the office, it was 8 in the morning and we aren't alcoholics probably). He did all the checks and stuff, showed us the pictures, which were disgustingly awesome, and then told us what went wrong. Once they dug out all the dead bone in my shoulder, there was a divot left that was big enough and in such a position that when I lifted my arm in such a way, the ball of the joint would slide down and kind of dislocate. Fantastic. So there were a few options from here. First, I could take this magic pill that would cure everything! Oh no, wait, that was me dreaming, that didn't happen. First, we could put a metal cap on the joint that would cover it. That would work, but it would wear out the bone and cartilage and would need to be replaced after a little while. The second option is new technology, coming straight from the University of Calgary. It would be bone and cartilage from a live donor, which would mean from a person who had just passed away. They would take it from them, machine it to fit my hole perfectly, and attach it through dowels. The only catch with that is that I would have to wait for the donor to come. My surgeon hadn't done that surgery before because it was extremely new, but he was very excited about me doing it, and was quite adamant about me taking that option. After exchanging looks, we all decided that that would probably be the best option. He told me that once I finished physio I'd be going on the list for donors.
Shortly after I began physio. Though there was nothing wrong with the physiotherapist, this was terrible for me. It's extremely difficult to explain the nature of my dislocations to someone who doesn't understand and who assumes it's like normal dislocations, so most of the exercises ended up making it dislocate. I hated it!
Physio wasn't the only thing that caused it to dislocate. As I finished up my recovery and began to get back to regular life, I found myself dislocating my shoulder more and more. I could get it back in relatively easy, just by relaxing and shrugging (luckily I was quite accustomed to relaxing through pain from my history), so it wasn't a problem, but it hurt quite a bit. I began to get used to it however. It did begin to get problematic, unfortunately.
I went back to work, teaching lessons only because I didn't feel comfortable lifeguarding when my shoulder have a chance to dislocate during a save. We decided to stick to relatively low level classes so I could stay in the shallow water or hold the kids while swimming with just my legs, so I wouldn't have to worry about my arms. My first day teaching my first set of lessons, I had a private lesson, a little girl who was terrified of water. I love lessons like this because I usually have them super comfortable by the first day, and then we can spend the next seven classes playing. I walked around with her on my back until she could touch by standing on her toes, and then got her to hang on the wall (she was already doing quite well). I reached back to grab a noodle, which was a normal motion for me, and my shoulder dislocated. Still not used to the pain, I pulled a face. Unfortunately, she saw the face, immediately got more terrified, and scrambled out of the water, crying as hard as she could. I felt terrible. Once the lessons were done, I went into my boss's office and quit. There was lots of tears, but I didn't see another way. After six years, I was no longer employed as a lifeguard, shift leader, or swim instructor.
As always, given a choice, I wouldn't have changed anything in regards to getting this surgery, nor do I think my surgeon would have changed anything in regards to how he would have performed the surgery. This was just the first of a series of disappointments that my shoulder has given me. However, my shoulder has also brought some happy points as well.
