Back to the (Barely) Living

As a consequence of recent events, I’ve developed an arm condition. Yes, an arm condition, which is odd in and of itself because the arm is not a body part I typically have issues with. Usually, I try to focus my efforts on more vital areas, like the brain or heart or liver, but nonetheless, desperate times call for desperate measures and I in turn have developed an arm condition. A condition I’ve coined as “Cold Arm;” a derivative of Cold Shoulder.

Now, when I say this condition is a derivative of Cold Shoulder, I do not mean of the phrase, (i.e., I give my mom the cold shoulder because she’s a conniving bitch), no, that’s not what I mean at all, I mean it in the medical sense of the term; “Cold Shoulder” or “Frozen Shoulder,” as it’s sometimes called, (i.e., I can’t move my fucking arm).

I was first exposed to this syndrome a couple years ago on a family cruise through the Bahamas when Rey’s mother became literally paralyzed at the thought of spending ten uninterrupted days with her parents and five sisters. We laughed about it at the time, I mean “Cold Shoulder” really? You’re so stressed you can’t move your shoulder? But as I sit here with my arm glued to my side, I’m suddenly thinking it’s not so damn funny.