The surgery is a piece of cake. All you have to do is lay there and let the doc make a couple holes in your shoulder. You'll wake up in recovery and blabber that it was nothing. That night, that's right, just hours after the procedure, you'll walk up to a wall and trying to make your hand "spide-crawl" upwards. It won't, you'll panic and see your pitching career go down the hopper.
That is exactly what they told me. They were right too. The therapists will seem as though they were trained by the CIA, but turned out to be too mean to work at GITMO.
Every-Single-Day, there will be almost immeasurable progress, until you suddenly find out, Dang! I can throw a ball again. You will be elated, until it hits you, you're too damn old to play ball.
I threw righty with modest speed, and had my left shoulder worked on. I can now throw southpaw with blistering speed, sans accuracy.
I've just had my fourth major surgery in 30 months, after a 64 year run of good luck. I've just decided, This crap isn't going to hold me down because there's still a lot of summer left, and predictions are great for a good grouse season. You just gotta say "I can do that" and you'll be back to the 99% you always were.
It sucks to be a Second Hand Lion
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