Jose Mourinho, move over! Before his recent eclipse, the ex manager of Chelsea and then Manchester United was termed ‘The Special One.’ Now there’s a new kid in town.
The symptoms came suddenly and out of the blue, an upper right arm that hurt like hell, increasingly stiff and difficult to move. Put it this way, for the first time in my life I realise the advantages of the bidet. Worse, I have similar symptoms in my right thigh, which makes it difficult to bend and put on a sock. I’m contemplating some kind of Heath Robinson invention that will do the job for me, but, for the moment, I’m reduced to making a glove from said sock by half-turning it inside out, placing it carefully on a chair—cavern-side grinning up at me—raising my leg as far as it will go and guiding my toes in, sometimes successfully.
My wife at last lost patience and, a little crestfallen, I went to the doctors. “Frozen shoulder,” she said and handed me a leaflet. She was less forthcoming about the thigh but advised me to see a physiotherapist. “Eight weeks waiting list. I advise you to go private. Ask around.”
It was only at home, I realised how special I am. The leaflet gravely informed me of all the reasons I really shouldn’t be dealing with this: Frozen Shoulder affects only 3% of adults; it is most common between the ages of 40 – 65; it is more common in women, and more common in people who have diabetes and/or overactive thyroid disease. I fail every one of these benchmarks. But bear with me. I’m even more special. Either shoulder can be affected, but most commonly it is the non-dominant shoulder. And yes, you’ve got it. Mine is in my bloody right shoulder.
I felt like kneeling on the spot (right thigh allowing) and raising my eyes to heaven. ‘Why me, O, Lord? Why me?' And knowing the answer: ‘Because.’ In the end I decided against bothering the Lord for fear of retribution. In one in five cases the condition develops in the other shoulder two or so years later. I have no wish to be even more special.