My Gammy Arm.

I fell off the bed.

And yes, it was all terribly innocent and yes I do feel stupid and Yes, I will tell you how if you promise not to think me klutzy.

Our bedroom, you have to understand, is tiny and wee.
It doesnt matter too much, its only for going to bed in, after all.
But it is, when alls said, tiny and wee, and not big enough to swing a cat, some trousers or, it turns out, an Anna, in.

Although, as I have mentioned, the bedroom is a room for going to bed in, it has another important use; as the main thoroughfare to the bathroom.

As there is scant little space at the end of the bed to move around, I have therefore decided that by far the best way to get to and from the bathroom is by commando roll across the bed.

On thursday night, however, this was my downfall.
Quite lidderally.
I rolled, I rolled, I rolled too far I fell go bang and pop goes the shoulder.

And its the same as same is always. I scream, I shout, my right arm joint sits on the edge of my shoulder socket and I can feel it and then with an almost involuntary action my left hand is grasping my right shoulder and something makes me twist my right shoulder the right way and my arms sits back in the socket and suddenly all is well.

Well, I say all is well. Theres then the obligatory half hour of shock and crying, and then it takes around three days to regain full movement in my arm. But other than that its all good.

Its stupid. I first dislocated my left shoulder almost ten years ago. It took four hours and two hospitals to put it back in place, and, when told to wear a sling for three months, I wore it for two weeks because it had stopped hurting. They never told me that wearing the sling would make the cartilage grow back.

As a result, my left shoulder came out again, a couple of years later, and then again, and then again, and then well, I dont know when the right one started to join in the fun, but it did.

I dont know why it did, either. I have this mental image of my arms being joined in the middle with an elastic band like an old doll, and when the band got loose, they both just started to fall out. At least theyll never do it at the same time. Although I have it in mind that at some point the band will snap and theyll just fall off.

On friday, in work, unable to pick up even a notebook with my right arm – although as long as I could keep it at my side and move the mouse about, that was fine – nice colleauges asked me why I hadnt gone to the hospital.

A good question – to which the answer is this;
What would they have said at the hospital?
They would have said:
a; Youve dislocated your shoulder. But its back in now.
(I knew that)
b; Dont move your arm too much.
(I wasnt planning on it. Because I couldnt)
c; Are you drunk?
(Yes, arent you? England were playing and then we lost in a penalty shoot out. What? You didnt see it? It was tragic, although no more some thn usual. Have you got any beer around here?)

So there was no point going to see any one. I just know what to do about it by now.

The arm thing, I mean, not Englands inability to win penalty shoot-outs. I dont know what to do about that. And I dont se any reason to bother a hospital with it. There are people who need to bother them more, surely.

But I do wish they wouldnt do this. My arms. I wish they wouldnt dislocate.
Or hurt when they did. If they didnt do one or the other, that would be nice.

Can someone arrange that, please?