Sometime in October I noticed that I had lost some strength and range of motion in my right arm. My first thought was that perhaps I had experienced a stroke and didn’t realize it. So of course I smiled, raised my arms over my head, and said, “How now brown cow?”
I concluded from my self-administered stroke test that I likely had not had a stroke. I then used my superior diagnosis skills to conclude that I must have pulled or pinched something in my shoulder (I regretfully note that my diagnosis skills are not held in the highest esteem by my family). I surmised that my body would heal itself over time and put it to the back of my mind.
But it didn’t heal itself and just about the time I would think things were improving some additional issues with my arm would occur. By Christmas time the whole family was becoming acutely aware of the arm issues. Sarah urged me to go to her chiropracter and the rest of the clan pretty much just urged me to go to the doctor (or cut the damn thing off and stop complaining – guess which kid that was?). Having never visited the chiropractor, but having heard from so many folks that they are fabulous, I was leaning toward that option. I promised the family I would do something right after the holidays.
And I did do something – I waited. The arm continued to feel dramatically better some days and horrible other days. By late April, my arm was becoming increasingly gimpy. The issues with the arm had spread all the way down to my fingers which would easily become sore and which were getting more difficult to manipulate. I was having trouble sleeping at night because my arm was in almost constant pain in the evenings. I promised myself that as soon as the semester ended I would go somewhere and have someone do something to fix my damaged arm.
Then something really interesting happened in the beginning of May…I planted some flowers in the yard. The first day I planted I struggled with the motion and my lack of strength. Two days later I planted again with no issues. The day after that I planted some more flowers and amazingly my arm was still not an issue. Indeed, over the days of planting flowers a good portion of my arm pain disappeared.
I found that to be very peculiar. Mike says that perhaps the movement involved in the digging and planting loosened something up that had been pinched or something. I don’t know about that. All those months with an increasingly gimpy arm and a few days of planting has me on the road to recovery – seems fishy to me. I thought that perhaps it was the joy of being able to get outside and plant flowers that created the change in my condition. Perhaps my gimpy arm was made worse by stress and the action of planting flowers – which functions as a complete de-stressor for me – released that stress.
Who knows why my arm saw such a dramatic improvement…I am just happy it did. I am diggin’ my therapy – and with a whole new garden to plant I am confident that I will see continued improvement. Alas, I will still make my way to the chiropractor. I am dying to see if they are all they are cracked up to be.
One thousand and forty-three of the new forty – obla di obla da