For some reason the “create a poll” interface keeps disappearing on me. It’s in the little grey box of links I get when I update my journal from the Livejournal website, but that grey box vanishes as the page loads.

The poll was going to be “what will the doctor say today?”

This article has some useful information about separated shoulders, and made for good reading just before I went to bed last night. It seems there are six types of separated shoulders, numbered 1 through 6, and that numbers 4 through 6 almost always require surgery. Type 3 used to get operated on, but is now treated more conservatively. Type 1 and type 2 are treated with a sling, painkillers, and lots of rest.

I suspect I’ll be found possessed of a Type 1 Separation. The X-ray indicated separation, but the tenderness in my shoulder seemed to be in the wrong place for that (on the back instead of the front), which would be consistent with Type 1 if the doctor I saw doesn’t consider Type 1 a separation at all, but a sprain (and that’s kind of supported by the wording on the page I linked). Type 1 means that I’ll be healing up quickly, and with that particular verdict I’ll almost certainly begin drawing again today.

Type 2 means I’ll start drawing again today, but I’ll feel guilty about it.

–Howard

In my experience, doctors never prescribe anything to stimulate or accelerate actual healing. They only prescribe stuff for pain, and to kill the boojums that cause it, but all they’re really doing is removing the obstacles that stand between your natural healing mechanisms and your injury.

Is that accurate? Are there exceptions? Help me out here…

Here’s the experience I would have LIKED to have with the doctor:

“Well, Howard, it looks like you’ve separated your shoulder. I’m going to give you enough painkillers that you’ll sit down and do nothing for four days, but you HAVE TO TAKE THEM. That will prevent you from injuring yourself further, and you’ll be too stoned to be bored. I’m also going to give you a nutritional supplement that will ensure that your body has the necessary materials to quickly rebuild that shoulder of yours.”

Then the doctor would hand me some pieces of paper, I’d go to the pharmacy, and I’d come away with a rejuvenative, regenerative cocktail, and I’d understand why I needed each of the pieces.

I know, I know, there are lots of supplements out there. Off the shelf I could probably acquire steroids, ligament strengtheners, and protein isolates which would dramatically accelerate the process by which my useless shoulder is made useful. I’m also very nearly smart enough to figure out what to buy without the help of a doctor. Sure, some of it is snake-oil, and even the stuff that appears to work for everybody has very limited “scientific” support in the form of clinical trials, but hey… I could figure out what’s what on my own.

My question is why won’t doctors do that for me? Isn’t there money to be made there? Wouldn’t it make sense for an association of (for instance) doctors who specialize in physical therapy to get together with (for instance) a company that makes protein powders, and underwrite a formal study on using supplements to treat (for instance) separated shoulders?

No, the pharmaceutical companies don’t stand to make quetzlcoatillions of dollars selling non-patentable protein powders, but certainly your local pharmacy could make a buck or two. SOMEBODY out there (besides us miserable convalescents) stands to benefit from the formalization of prescription-strength “healing aids.”

I’m sure some of you will tell us how the modern medical establishment is little more than a conspiracy to keep natural healers on the lunatic fringe and make the megapharms and their stockholders fithily richer. I want answers that are a little more firmly grounded.

–Howard
ps: I mixed up some glutamine and creatine this evening, and my shoulder started to burn about an hour later. It felt like the burn I get after a workout, not like an injury. It was “new” pain, and it fascinates me. And this evidence of the existence of a niche for prescribed supplements is not especially firmly grounded.

My shoulder hurt a lot this morning when I woke up. I think I mentioned that in a previous entry.

So… I took a Lortab and a Soma at 8:30am, and then walked to Church ahead of the rest of the family. Understand, this is in Orem, Utah, where pretty much any Latter-Day Saint lives within a short walk of their congregation’s meetinghouse. I’m no exception. I have to cross two residential streets, and I walk past 9 front yards (counting only those on my right side as I walk).

So… I walked to church, sat down in a promising looking pew, and waited for the medication to kick in.

When Sandra arrived 10 minutes later I was about to fall over sideways. We agreed that it might be best if I sat in the foyer on a comfy chair (typically used by nursing mothers and delinquent teenagers), stuck around long enough to take the acrament (Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, or Communion depending on your particular vernacular), and then walked home. Well, the Sacrament was passed to me, and I spent a few precious wetware cycles contemplating my relationship with God. Then I contemplated walking home, and realized that walking ANYWHERE in my current stuporous state was likely a bad idea, so I stayed put.

I fell asleep.

I woke up when the closing hymn was sung. I sat dazedly in place wondering if Sandra would come and get me, and then realized that she probably thought I was at home. I decided to venture forth from the increasingly womb-like comfort of that chair (note the subject line — “stoned in church”) and walked very slowly until I located Sandra. We talked about it, and determined that the easiest thing to do would rhyme nicely with “stay at Church.”

click here if you’re curious about LDS Sunday services

Hydrocodone is a much more effective sleep-aid than my usual poison, diphenhydramine citrate. It wears off faster, so that when morning rolls around I can greet it with clear-headedness.

I’m not taking Lortab (hydrocodone + acetaminophen) for help sleeping, though. I’m taking it to manage pain. Waking up clear-headed has its drawbacks — first and foremost, EVERYTHING HURTS. My shoulder hurts, by back and neck are sore, and my stomach feels like I was barfing all day yesterday. Since one of the side-effects of Lortab is nausea, I expect it’s doing something unpleasant to my gut, and when I wake up my poor belly is hung over.

So… right now I’m on zero drugs. I am very, very aware of my shoulder. I am aware of my shoulder in the same way that you would be aware of an 800-lb silverback mountain gorilla sitting in front of your refrigerator with a salad fork, the last of the Cherry Garcia, and your copy of Harry Potter and The Spoiler Which Must Not Be Named, should you be so unlucky as to have a gorilla wander into your home and adopt that position.

I’m afraid I need to take another Lortab. How else am I going to get past the gorilla?

–Howard