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I feel so stupid. I never even considered it. Not once. Believe it or not, I didn’t spend my whole life worried about losing the use of my only good arm. I never even considered the possibility that a random move could render my right arm almost as useless as my left. On the one hand (pun intended), I’d never have tried out for my high school gymnastics team, gone skiing, or ridden a horse had I kept that possibility at the forefront of my mind. All these years, I never worried that I’d become more disabled. I felt like I’d already paid my dues, so to speak. Now, I must ponder being infinitely more disabled, even for “only” 3-6 months, should surgery be required as a last resort.

I’ve always been very independent. It’s a point of pride that most people never notice that one arm is 6” shorter than the other or that anything else about me is amiss. I became a ninja at hiding my weaknesses, my frailties. Now, I must consider a new the term “disabled”. This would be another level for me, requiring help for the most mundane things like eating or dressing. I’m overwhelmed.

Just when I’d opened my life to new opportunities that I like to call All Horses – All the Time, I hurt myself in an accident completely unrelated to horses. Since then, I’ve been under the care of a sports medicine doctor, chiropractor, acupuncturist, and masseuse. Yes, all of them. X-rays show nothing broken, however there is shoulder impingement – a bone spur. There may also be a rotator cuff tear, although I can’t bring myself to schedule an MRI to confirm. You see, as I told the doctor, I can’t have surgery. I live alone on a farmette with many responsibilities. I also recently began a new phase of life which includes a man just as interested in all horses – all the time as I am. I wasn’t willing to put that on hold. So, instead, I got steroid shots directly into my shoulder.

While I’m waiting to see if that works long term, I must be constantly vigilant to use my “good arm – now bad” in the least harmful way, not easy since I don’t have an alternative. I’m back to learning how to compensate – all over again. Arghhh. Of course, going through all the steps, again, to figure out how to do things, how to compensate, caused many difficult memories to bubble up. As paras, we must compensate at each step, but then forget the rigors of the trial and error process. If we didn’t, it would seem too overwhelming to compensate the next time, and the next, and the next.

Yes, I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself, a bit frightened of the future, and a bit stupid because this possibility truly never occurred to me. I was at a point in my life where I didn’t feel disabled all the time anymore. Now, I feel it to the core of my being again. I know, I know. For those of you who know me, you’d say that I don’t seem disabled. Again, I work really hard to make you think that.

Yes, I have friends and family who’d love to help but, to be honest, I’m terrible at taking help anyway. I’d rather just suffer the pain and work through the struggles. At this point, I can still do most things, if they are below my shoulder height. That means that I can still ride, if someone lifts the saddle. I can cook, if nothing is on a tall shelf. I can type, if I can take frequent breaks to rest my shoulder.

Either way, surgery or not, my life has changed again, at least in the short term. The decision will ultimately be mine and I’ll deal with the consequences either way. For now, the steroid shots and complete rest let me put the decision in my rear view mirror, at least for a while. I’m riding, but low-key for now. I still intend to show 3rd and, maybe, 4th level able-bodied dressage this year. The new beau introduced me to fox hunting (don’t worry – I’m not jumping, and no animals are harmed) and bought a steeplechase prospect! I figured out long ago that neither pain nor fear would keep me away from the barn. That won’t change. All horses – all the time.

 

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