I've been going to physical therapy. My session usually starts with a delightful heating pad against my shoulder and then the therapist begins the stretching of my arm.
"I guess your tears are an indication that you're still in considerable pain," he'll say about half way through the session.
Deep breathing and two Vicodins taken before I leave home don't seem to do much to keep the pain away.....but it always feels better when he finally stops. And it's working. I'm slowly gaining use of my arm. I can almost raise it over my head again. This afternoon I knit two inches of a baby sweater and I actually typed this entire post with two hands. Either I'm so used to the pain I don't realize it's there or it's actually going away at times now.
Soon I'll be able to tell you about the May session of the Songwriters Woodshed, about the wonderful friends we have who "loaned" us their twin boys to help open up the campers, and about how rude Rupert was to their dog, about the baby foxes living beneath a camper near ours, and about how excited I am as the time for us to leave for Chincoteague nears.
But right now all I can say is....it hurts.