<p>I’m not a vessel floating along the waves on a pristine river or a raging ocean to prevent further drifting by anchoring me to a firm bottom. Half a century ago, my parents could’ve chided me for a surfeit of mischiefs and enforced ‘grounded’ to punish me; or into the future, a non-existent ride since I’m not yet a picture frame to be nailed for posterity, and hence remain unanchored. I do not have the exposure or the experience to anchor a television show, more so as a news anchor to pull off a mesmerising effect on my audience to impinge their mindset. However, the twists and turns in my story of impingement will reveal the truth, but until then, I need your patient read.</p>.<p>Two months ago, a little niggle in the right shoulder made me believe that I can self-administer a few painkillers and rub some relief cream for respite. A few days of this self-treatment proved futile, and the orthopaedic clinic beckoned me. Orthopaedician made me swing my arms in all directions to diagnose my uneasiness and smilingly handed me a prescription for painkillers and physiotherapy treatment.</p>.<p>My pain started to intensify, the physiotherapy notwithstanding. Normal sleep posture either flat on my back, or a right-side position was most painful and made the act of sleeping a torturous affair, despite a fortress of pillows around. This mandated a revisit to my Ortho, who, sensing my discomfort prescribed an MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) procedure. The conclusion as ‘impression’ was tricky to decipher with the medical lingo. The sense I got was the right shoulder area was a mess with an RC (Rotator Cuff) tear, inflammation, tendonitis, and bursitis in adjacent areas with aggravated pain radiating into the neck region. </p>.<p>The MRI experience is worth a little paragraph. The sleep position mandated for precise imaging, the very reason I went back to my Ortho was ironically the position I had to lie still on my back for 22 minutes. With my right hand stretched and shoulder resting against support for better imaging, it was a journey in eternity. The claustrophobic feeling during the lie inside that tubular construct with a high-decibel noise and very cold temperature was exasperating, however, my meditation regimen kept me calm and composed. An experience worth an erase from my memory!</p>.<p>Ortho concluded an arthroscopic surgery as a logical next step, and with all medical tests normal I was led to the Operation Theatre (OT) two weeks ago. A few holes in the shoulder area with probes fitted with miniature cameras to provide the best view of the inside mess, the Ortho sutured the tear and effected the mend as I lay sedated.</p>.<p>The final report of the operation steps revealed that a tenotomy was done for the biceps and a swivel lock with Arthrex suture to bind and anchor the tear. I’m now looking forward to the physio for an extended recuperation. Meanwhile, in a pandemic-induced fear psychosis, I am Anchored!</p>.<p><strong>Check out DH's latest videos:</strong></p>
<p>I’m not a vessel floating along the waves on a pristine river or a raging ocean to prevent further drifting by anchoring me to a firm bottom. Half a century ago, my parents could’ve chided me for a surfeit of mischiefs and enforced ‘grounded’ to punish me; or into the future, a non-existent ride since I’m not yet a picture frame to be nailed for posterity, and hence remain unanchored. I do not have the exposure or the experience to anchor a television show, more so as a news anchor to pull off a mesmerising effect on my audience to impinge their mindset. However, the twists and turns in my story of impingement will reveal the truth, but until then, I need your patient read.</p>.<p>Two months ago, a little niggle in the right shoulder made me believe that I can self-administer a few painkillers and rub some relief cream for respite. A few days of this self-treatment proved futile, and the orthopaedic clinic beckoned me. Orthopaedician made me swing my arms in all directions to diagnose my uneasiness and smilingly handed me a prescription for painkillers and physiotherapy treatment.</p>.<p>My pain started to intensify, the physiotherapy notwithstanding. Normal sleep posture either flat on my back, or a right-side position was most painful and made the act of sleeping a torturous affair, despite a fortress of pillows around. This mandated a revisit to my Ortho, who, sensing my discomfort prescribed an MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) procedure. The conclusion as ‘impression’ was tricky to decipher with the medical lingo. The sense I got was the right shoulder area was a mess with an RC (Rotator Cuff) tear, inflammation, tendonitis, and bursitis in adjacent areas with aggravated pain radiating into the neck region. </p>.<p>The MRI experience is worth a little paragraph. The sleep position mandated for precise imaging, the very reason I went back to my Ortho was ironically the position I had to lie still on my back for 22 minutes. With my right hand stretched and shoulder resting against support for better imaging, it was a journey in eternity. The claustrophobic feeling during the lie inside that tubular construct with a high-decibel noise and very cold temperature was exasperating, however, my meditation regimen kept me calm and composed. An experience worth an erase from my memory!</p>.<p>Ortho concluded an arthroscopic surgery as a logical next step, and with all medical tests normal I was led to the Operation Theatre (OT) two weeks ago. A few holes in the shoulder area with probes fitted with miniature cameras to provide the best view of the inside mess, the Ortho sutured the tear and effected the mend as I lay sedated.</p>.<p>The final report of the operation steps revealed that a tenotomy was done for the biceps and a swivel lock with Arthrex suture to bind and anchor the tear. I’m now looking forward to the physio for an extended recuperation. Meanwhile, in a pandemic-induced fear psychosis, I am Anchored!</p>.<p><strong>Check out DH's latest videos:</strong></p>