Vlog the Inhaler, or The Occasional Video Blog Musings of Jim Thornton
Whetter
by , October 4th, 2011 at 09:23 PM (2687 Views)
As in appetite whetting.
I've been a taciturn vlogger of late, the consequence, in large part, of having to finish some articles to pay my indentured servant's burdens to the overloads who own me.
One such article is for AARP: The Magazine, a periodical I fear I am way too old to be writing for.
Gerontologists divide the Golden Years into four rough quadrants:
Young Old
Middle Old
Old Old
Walking Dead of Maui Taui
The latter, of course, is more a state of mind than a chronological condition.
Most people don't recognize it, but I can assure you, we who fall into this category recognize each other.
Largely by smell.
But enough shilly shallying. The topic of the article I just finished the first draft of is tendinosis, the affliction that characterizes many of the most common chronic sports injuries, from Swimmer's Shoulder and Tennis Elbow, to Runner's Knee and Achilles Heel.
As a frequent sufferer of SS and TE, I made a trek to see an excellent doctor at UPMC's Rehabilitation Institute, a fellow with his MD in physiatry (or physical medicine) and his Ph.D. in anatomy.
Eventually, when my article appears, I will include a link to it so that those of you who are not yet Young, Middle, or Old Old, or Walking Dead of Maui Taui, can access it without an AARP card.
But for now, and as indicated earlier, as a way of whetting your appetite, let me just publish four ultrasound images of my right elbow, right shoulder (Supraspinatus tendon, i.e., the rotator cuff most likely to wear and tear from swimming), my left shoulder, and finally my twin brother John's notion of what really causes Swimmer's Shoulder.
In an upcoming vlog, I shall wax at length as to why these images are, in fact, so fascinatingly paradoxical.
And on this note, I ask you all to now begin whetting yourselves.
Thank you.
My right elbow, which throbs riotously on my many mis-hit one-handed backhands as well as my second (usually slice) serves. The doctor-anatomist assured me he could see no evidence of structural damage.
My right shoulder. I am right handed, do much more with this arm than the other one, including playing tennis and--in the old days--breaking my falls when, as a frequent inebriate, I followed the drunkard's path.
This shoulder does show signs of a small, partial tear in the supraspinitus, though the good doctor was quick to add that such a condition is more rule than exception in active fellows my age (59 as on Sept. 24; FINA 60 on Jan. 1).
My left shoulder, with RC so perfectly in tact the doctor described it as "pristine"--the kind of supraspinitus tendon most commonly seen in Tarzan-like specimens in their teenage years.
Finally, my twin brother John's concept of what kind of abuse would have to happen to my left shoulder to convert it into the sad shape of my right one. John is not a doctor. I'm not one either, not exactly. But I have seen plenty of oddities in my decades of fake clinical practice and know-it-all blowhardery based on five minutes of Googling Medline.
I have never seen a tiny digging fat man shoveling away at a pristine supraspinitus.
But I cannot rule out the possibility.
*
Oh, I almost forgot.
Here's the paradox I invite you all to ponder.
It's my left shoulder that hurts when I swim.
The right one feels fine.
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