FILO

 It is like calculus, trigonometry, or some other form of advanced math that I was never able to decipher. All angles and hypotenuses. So far, I would give myself a failing mark..

You know that accident waiting to happen that happened to me last week. The one I reported to you in my somewhat cavalier assessment of the damage I had managed to inflict upon myself. It now appears I may have underestimated my ability for self destruction.

I have just returned from having been MRIed. The sound of a machine making distinctively loud and abrasive noises clanging around me as I tried not to breathe, lest I ruin the image and be compelled to repeat the process. My shoulder remaining inert, as still as leaves on a day without a hint of a breeze.

You do not want to watch a video of me attempting to enter and exit my shirts and jackets. Or maybe you do. I can only imagine a turtle trying to extricate itself from its shell, or Houdini being unable to pick the last lock while he is submerged 40 feet underwater in a straitjacket. Flailing, my mind providing one set of instructions to my limbs, while they evidently follow the directions of some nemesis of mine. If I wasn't badly enough injured before I began to perform jiu jitsu on myself, the prognosis for my future well being has plummeted since I undertook my masochistic ritual.

Were it not for FILO I  am not certain how I could handle this chore.  First in, last off, so the bad arm takes the lead putting on and is the trailer on the other end of this routine. Notwithstanding this aid, getting the order of operation confused remains a distinct possibility,  A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

And my nightly attempt at sleeping, which was an exercise in futility even before the events of last Friday, now is an effort without effect. Sleeping in bed has proven a task beyond my capabilities, and thus the couch and I have become roommates. The slightest move of the shoulder in a direction it does not wish to travel, sending a direct message to my brain, in capital letters.

In every life there is a bit of rain. Even the luckiest ones get sprinkled upon from time to time. And, to a great extent, my days have long been filled with sunshine. So I cannot complain too loudly (although I undoubtedly will) should the results of the MRI confirm the suspicions of the orthopedist..

As for my family, my wife, can you imagine what happens when someone with an Olympic sized case of ineptness couples this with an incapacity, rendering the permanently hopeless now helpless as well?

For now, I wait and wonder. Soon enough I will have my answer. And see if the other slipper, I mean shoe, drops.