About 35 years ago I was walking out of my then local park with my then little (now someone older, unlike me and Dorian Grey) cousin after playing tennis on a lovely summer evening. When we were attacked by 2 boxer dogs. Protecting my little cuz (I should have just fed him to them and run away whilst they were eating) I, at some point in the melee, managed to dislocate my right shoulder. History. Still hate boxer dogs as a consequence. Still hate my cousin.

In the following few years I did a medical study on dislocated shoulders. And this is what I found:

That if, once healed, you play tennis, right-handed, swinging the shoulder round like a mad thing, nothing happens, its fine. Arguably it strengthens the muscles and provides good exercise.

But if you play football, that shoulder will come out again. And go back in, all by itself. Then come out the next time you play football, go back in… you get the picture.

You may have wondered if I was not playing shoulder-ball or something. Shoulders aren’t employed massively in football, the odd barge aside. Even in Jewish league football where there’s perhaps more shrugging (it wasn’t my fault, ref) than is normal. Yet dislocate it would. About 10 more times. Because as I worked out, there may have been a correlation between playing football and dislocating my shoulder but that didn’t prove causation. So I wouldn’t accept that my soccer career was over and I’d never score the winning goal for Spurs in the World Cup. Or some such.

Eventually even I got the message and I stopped playing footy and the shoulder stayed where it should. Oh, that’s all fine then. Other than playing football, which I loved.

Fast forward 15 years and I start getting bother from the shoulder. Pain, to you. Because you’re a woos and I’m a fucking super-hero (read: ‘fool’). I went to see ‘a man about a shoulder’. Top man. Jews can only go and see top men, its in the charter, just under the ‘chopped liver clause’. Top Man performed surgery. Performed miracles. The shoulder was fine again, yippee.

Until 4 years ago. Shoulder man amazingly (cos he wasn’t ‘young’ when I first saw him) still working. Still the top man, obviously. Did some scans, gave me a ‘guided’ cortisone injection. I never, ever want to see the needle they use for that; never. But a bit of physio and all was fine once more in shoulder-land.

Until a few months ago. When the pains returned. But only during the night? Weird but true. Every morning its just pure fucking agony (and that’s real, man’s agony, none of that child-birthy, time-a-the-monthy type girly stuff; this was the pain of Rambo, of Terminator!!, this was Tarantino pain) yet loosens up during the day. And hasn’t in fact made me miss one game of tennis. Which is odd. But I’m prepared to accept that may be me being odd.

Amazingly Top Shoulder Man (or what’s left of him) is still around, still working, even though he must be 163 years old. That’s how fucking good he is; must have rebuilt himself.

And next week, another cortisone jab. Meanwhile (and this is why he is the top man) he said its fine to play tennis, do martial arts, whatever. Exercise is good! Even though it’ll be 2 hours the next morning before I can move it. Bless him.

Happy pain-free Friday

A xxxx