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If it’s not one darn thing it’s another.

So I’m home last night, minding my own business and my cell phone rings. Call ID says it’s Dr. Shoulder Surgeon’s office. I figure that they’re calling me to change my appointment next week, which happens more often than not. Wrong. It’s the PA with the results of my MRI. Note that this is the MRI on my “good” shoulder — not the one I had replaced last year. Seems like I have a partial tear of the rotator cuff, bone spurs, and frayed tendons. Do I want to go the surgical route or just do an injection?

Honestly, I don’t like either choice, but I’m not ready to go to surgery at the moment, so I choose the [ouchy, painful, yucky] injection. That’s what I have to look forward to next Tuesday, and I’m sure the surgery is looming out there at some point, because those things don’t just heal themselves.

So I get up this morning, thinking about my day and I yawn. And the whole left side of my chest explodes with fire. I stop, hold my breath and it quits. I take another deep breath, my chest explodes with fire again. This goes on for a while and finally my husband convinces me that I should go get it checked out. Amazingly, I got right into the ER. Four hours, six tubes of blood, a chest X-ray, and a $1000 co-pay┬álater, we determine that I am having pleurisy pain, caused most likely by my Sjogren’s drying out my chest cavity. Either that or a virus. Bed rest and pain pills today.

I hope to heck you’re having a better 24 hours than I am. Thanks for checking in.

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