otomotopia

Snap. Grind. Pop. Crack. Zip.

The bones in my body make old people sounds. My back, my knees, my wrists -- and now my left shoulder continue in a daily serenade. I still sleep in a wrist brace on my right hand because it pops less during the day when I do. And my morning ritual has consisted of stretching my back and legs since my unfortunate event carrying groceries this spring. I stretch, I pop. It's like the cereal without the milk.

About two months ago I started doing over-head arm claps again. I was feeling retro vibes from my short stent in ROTC and thought that doing 50 overhead arm claps on the days that I work would be something good for me to do. I worked up to 50 in a week (and I still hear my DS yelling the count). I tell you this because I have no idea what I've done to my left shoulder and this is my best guess.

So day-before-yesterday I'm orienting with one of the clinic nurses and I notice that every time I move my left arm in a certain way, it pops. It doesn't just crack, there's a weird-almost-nauseating-wave with the snap. And it's kindof a slow click. Nonpainful, but consistent. Consistent enough for me to be annoyed by it.

I'm too young for this, people. I work with old layds whose bones don't pop like mine. Well, the one who is old enough to be my grandmother has more pops, but you get my picture. Bodys that aren't 30 yet aren't supposed to make crickety noises.

This isn't a good time of year for new sickening pops to start. Everybody and their brother is trying to see their doctors before the new year starts and they have to re-meet their deductibles.

Now is the time where I tell you that you're supposed to do as I say and not as I do... This spring my OBGYN drew a Reichlin profile, which is a series of tests to see if you have an autoimmune disorder, specificly three disorders where your body decides to attack itself. I asked for a copy of the labwork to be mailed to me. She never called with the results, and I called twice to get the results of the labwork... and eventually got one of my coworkers to print it off for me, which is a big hospital no-no.

So I had the results of the test I didn't understand and had no idea how to interpret it. I called the OBGYN again to no avail. And then life happened and I've not thought much about it until now that my shoulder is mad at me.

And the point of this post? I'm empowering you, silly. Demand that you obtain copies of all of your labwork and pathologies. Get a folder and be your own health advocate. Be better at it than I was. And go easy on the overhead arm claps.