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Exanderous smiled and let a small chuckle escape his person as he sat down in a chair and sighed.
Very well then.
I was pretty young when it dislocated for the first time. Two friends were bickering and getting ready to fight. These two particular individuals were known for going for blood, and I knew they would not stop until the other was dead. ( I am not kidding... One was in a gang, the other was mentally unstable... Not a good combination.)
Me being the hero that I am (More like fricken idiot), I tried to break them up. The mentally unstable one (Who was four times bigger then I was at the time) picked me up and body slammed me on a rock. The rock wedged in between my shoulder blade and dislocated it. Everyone huddled around me, and the gang related guy kicked the crap out of him for doing such a deed. He helped me up, and I got on my bike. My arm was tingling, and I can almost see the ball joint of the shoulder pertruding out. In horror I fell off my bike and landed on it. With an incredible sharp pain, it relocated and feeling (including pain) returned to it.
I tried waving it around, but to really no avail. Everyone thought I was fine because I waved in the car. I heard them say things like, "Man what a wimp!" or "Man he cant take anything..." I was taken to the hospital for swelling. My arm did not TOTALLY relocate apparently. They twisted it around for a little bit and with a resounding POP, it went in completely. I will never forget the look on my father's face. That solitary look was probably worth all the pain I endured that day.
An officer told me I could press charges with this amount of damage on me. I told him I did not want to. This kid just was not worth the attention of the authorities. At least not in my eyes.
Ever since that day, my arm has had the uncanny ability to dislocate at will. Involuntary, but I must confess it also was voluntary. I found it was cool. My friends did too. The nerves died, so I could barely feel it when it happened. Over the years my body adjusted to this "set back" and my muscles in my front strengthened while my bone structor in my shoulder blade and corresponding parts altered their functions to make my shoulder work. My shoulder blade now sticks out so far out of my back a crow could land on it.
In time, ROTC, The Renaissance Festival, Being an ADHD 18 year old male; all these activities put strain on my shoulder. Much to my dismay, my shoulder went out in a alternate direction in the backstage of the Renaissance Festival I was working for in the summer. Neatless to say, the nerves on that side of my shoulder were still functional. I apparently showed no sign of pain (coming from "Mamma Duck", our lovably yet stern stage director) and the only way she could tell I was hurting was by the odd disfigured shape of my arm and the fact that my pupils were dilated. She helped me relocate it, but she told me to go to the hospital. So I did. They were of no use to us however, because all they proclaimed to me was, "Your arm is injured yes but it is in socket now. Nothing we can do but give you this immensly rediculous sized immobolizer that will make you miserable for the next month." Sounded like a plan to me... right....
I cant say I wore it all the time, but most of the time I did what I was told. Even still, as time progressed it went out another direction, and then another. As it stood, my arm dislocated in four different directions. Three of the four were incredibly painful. I remember nights where I would have to bite my wallet or a stick and run into a wall or simply grunt and arrange it back in socket my self. There was no way I could just live with this deformity.
Doctors would not touch it. They acknowledged that I had a problem, but it was far too complicated for them to touch it. I probably did not help the matter with my glaring looks though. I have hated doctors ever since I can remember. look through my medical history and you will understand why. (Ohohoh crazy youth) They kept saying, "I will send you to a specialist..." As soon as I arrived, they would send me to ANOTHER specialist. After coming to the conclusions that these specialist maybe were not as "special" as some might claim, I almost gave up hope.
There was one doctor who finally agreed to do it. Under one condition. I must acknowledge that if it goes out of socket once more continually, he will not touch it again. Basically the kind way of saying if I screwed up, he would not operate again.
So I live with this shoulder to this day... God only knows the extent to what they altered in it. I can feel the anchors they put inside me... no matter.
MY Freshman Year I had knee surgery... My Sophomore Year I became very ill and almost died literally. My Junior Year I had another knee surgery, and in my Senior year I had extensive shoulder surgery. It has almost become a routine for me. Hehe.
Now you know the story.
PS: I am much better at telling stories in real life. I used to have the gift of typing them as well. Apparently not any more.
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