I play a lot of sports, and always give the proverbial 110%, so injuries are nothing new to me. Three different times I've broken bones in my legs, I've torn my ACL and I've suffered a complete shutdown of the posterior kinetic chain that plagues me to this day. Until last night, however, I've never suffered an upper body injury of significance.
At the tail end of my hockey game last night, I fell awkwardly on my left shoulder and the pain was excruciating. I couldn't pull off my jersey without wincing and shedding a manly tear. At half past midnight I realized I wasn't going to be able to sleep on this thing and went to the St. Joe's emergency room.
The good news is nothing is broken. The bad news is I've separated my shoulder and am now enjoying a steady diet of percocets. There's essentially one position in which my left shoulder doesn't kill and that makes it tough to sleep, impossible to drive and don't even think about tying up those boots.
It'll take 8 weeks to heal, but I don't plan to be on the disabled list that long. As soon as I can tolerate the pain, I'm getting back out there. I've got a ball tournament at SkyDome in a couple of weeks that I don't plan on missing.
Before I conclude this percocet-inspired, exhilarating tale of my broken left wing, there's an interesting side note. I've scored two goals in each of the past five hockey games I've played. Last night, once again sitting on two goals, I burst free on a break-away. I remember fighting off a defender to ensure I controlled the play, and then everything slowed down... Seriously, it was slo-motion and I put a killer move on the goalie to secure my first ever hat trick in a tight 8-7 win. Without a doubt, it was the best game of my life.