PT drop out

For the last four weeks or so, I have been faithfully going to physical therapy.  I am trying to strengthen my shoulder blade muscles in an attempt to ease the pain of a torn tendon that I got from two separate episodes of clumsy.  I usually start with ultrasound, then electronic stimulation with meds, weights, bands, and the arm bike.  Today was different.

I had a cortisone shot a little over a week ago.  At first, I was optimistic that I felt some pain relief and the thought of surgery would be a distant memory.  But by the beginning of this week, I realized that the relief I felt might be just in my head.  Once again, everything I did was making my shoulder hurt, even just sitting.  I told Bethany, my physical therapist, how I was feeling on Monday, and I did the regular therapy routine.  This morning was a different story, though.  When I told Bethany that things still hadn't improved, she said she wanted me to take a break from PT next week.  Obviously, it's not helping me a great deal, and it might even be hurting me.  Bethany wants to see if the PT is irritating my shoulder more than it should.  If I feel better after next week, we'll try therapy again with a few tweaks; if not, I'm supposed to see my orthopedist before my scheduled appointment on June 8.  Not only is the PT not making a dent in my pain, but our insurance only covers twenty PT visits a year.  I have already burned through nine of those, so I want to save some for possible post-surgery.

I'm seriously bummed about this.  I thought I would be able to PT my way through this, but I'm not so sure anymore.  The constant pain is really getting to me: it hurts when I drive, I can't sleep well, I can't lift my arm above my head, and I can't hold my kids.  As much as I dread recovering from surgery, I know I can't continue like this.  If this all comes to pass, it will be interesting to see how I handle being one-armed for a while.  Well, let's be honest.  I'll handle it just fine.  Trevor, Lottie, and Dallas are a whole different story.