Frustration Builds

I am currently in a tiny motel in upstate New York. Today was a big step for me...I put on a pair of dress slacks, a button down shirt and dress shoes all by myself. I arrived at the dress rehearsal of the wedding I'm here for and suddenly released something, my arm probably shouldn't have moved into the contorted angles I had it in to make my outfit appropriately fit. I turned to my girlfriend, who is a bridesmaid in tomorrow afternoon's ceremony, and asked for the car keys. I was granted permission to leave the rehearsal- where my presence wasn't really necessary- and head back to the motel.

And here I am now, a half hour after I dressed myself, stripped back down to my boxers and with my arm heavily wrapped in ice.

I decided last night that today would be my first day since surgery without a hydrocodone pill. It wasn't that I was worried about addiction, or that it made me sick. But if my arm hurts, I want to know it hurts. I don't like when pain is masked because that enables me to do things that I wouldn't be able to do under the typical circumstances of the situation. So when I had my brace off and went through the obligatory motions of putting together my wedding-dress-rehearsal-outfit, I forgot that my arm was sliced open just a week ago.

Some of the frustrating aspects of the Tommy John aftermath are beginning to form tenfold right in front of my eyes. Some have been able to find some humor out of the experience, though. For example, last night was the first night that I've shaved my face since the surgery. I sort of put it off, being that I figured it'd be a bit more difficult to do with my right arm, but I preferred not to look like a caveman for this weekend's wedding. Well, my girlfriend thought it was hysterical watching me attempt to trim my mustache with very little control over my hand in such a small area. What is normally a procedure that takes all of ten minutes turned into a half hour long spectacle with me throwing shaving cream at her and her giggling at my lack of coordination.

On a more serious note, my left arm is still very weak. I am now able to grip things, although mainly things with little substance or weight to them (Ie: I can grab a soda can but not a laptop computer). I still struggle with individual finger control. My pinky finger and ring finger on my left hand do not move on their own very easily. Dr. Andrews explained that the reason for this is because of the movement of the ulnar nerve and it could take a few weeks for full range of motion with those fingers to come back.

The rehabilitation work is rather monotonous and strenuous. Squeezing a stress ball is difficult for me and causes quite hefty amounts of discomfort in the forearm area. I complete a simple set of gripping exercises in ten minutes, and then do about ten minutes more of wrist range of motion exercises. Onto the shoulder exercises for ten minutes, which consist of pushing my hand against a wall. Then, ice. That's it...everyday. If I were to do these things with my right hand, suffice to say there would be literally no difficulty. But after I complete the therapy, my left arm is tired, sore and beaten. And despite the fact that it gets a little easier to do everyday I do them, the fact is that I've gone from a completely strong and capable college athlete to a 21 year old who can't squeeze a fist. And sometimes, it's frustrating.

My physical therapy schedule this week is Monday/Wednesday/Friday. My hope is that Monday I can progress a bit more with my exercises, and then Wednesday is the day I'm scheduled to get my sutures and stitches out. That will be a major relief, because that will mean I can finally quit taking sponge baths and take a real shower. In the case of Tommy John, in an odd way, I suppose it's the little things that matter.