Anyway, after a long process of finding a kick-ass orthopedic surgeon who specializes in shouders and figuring out how to get insurance to pay for it, I finally went under the knife to have the old bolts tightened.  10 days later and I can finally type again.  Technically it was a bankart repair which I’ll leave you to research if you care, but in my case involved drilling some tiny holes in my bones and tying some connective tissue back into place.  You might be able to follow along on this video he took while poking around arthroscopically before performing the actual repairs:

(my favorite part is when he pulls out the hedge trimmer attachment to get a clearer view.)

Anyway, now I’m left with a few nice clean cuts and one extremely weak arm.  Funny things I’ve noticed include that washing my hands is often quite painful.  I figured out this is because pushing your hands together requires using internal rotation, which uses the subscapularis muscle, that he had to cut through to get a clean shot at the problem.  Pushing light switches with the wounded wing has also nearly reduced me to tears.  But it’s getting better every day.  I think another month I’ll put my new cadillac sling on the shelf next to the others, and then a month after that I should be biking, and another month and I’ll be swimming.  And shortly thereafter, I’ll be biking through Vietnam.  w00t!

I was biking home from work, riding up Pinke on my normal commute route.  A bus was stopped in the right lane so I moved into the next lane to pass it.  As I did this, a white SUV (IIRC license plate 974-PPF) pulls up close behind me, revving its engine and honking repeatedly.  The driver yells out of the window "Get out of the road!"

My immediate reaction was what I always do in such circumstances which is to assert my position in the middle of the lane to ensure that the car doesn’t try to zoom by without leaving me enough room.  In the next block he found space to pass in the third lane, yelling obscenities on the way until a red light stops him.  I ride up next to him to have a chat.

At this point my blood pressure is quite high and I’ve pretty much lost control.  As I rode up I yelled "Do you have a problem sharing the road?"  His thoughtful response was "Get out of the !@#*& road.  I’m in a car."  Regrettably at this point I just laid into him for being lazy and contributing to global warming, to cheers from passing pedestrians.  The light changed and we went our own ways.

What makes me most sad about this interaction is that I didn’t make the time to understand what was going on in his head.  I would have enjoyed exploring the logic that accompanied "I’m in a car."  I might have learned something by listening a little better.

I’m also disappointed in myself for losing my calm.  His behavior was so patently absurd that I shouldn’t have any reason to get upset over it — it’s not like h was pointing out my personal failures or anything like that.  Arguably the implicit threat of physical violence on me justifies anger, and that the accompanying adrenaline actually helps me deal with the situation.  But the subsequent clouding of judgment really doesn’t help.  A fear reaction might have achieved the same benefits of adrenaline with a slightly more measured response.

Overall I wish I’d remained calm.  I’m hoping that by reflecting on the situation like this I might prepare myself to handle it better next time.