Shoulder Blade Hurts When I Cough Novels & Stories

[Present] I let out a loud cough, feeling like someone is squeezing my windpipe. Leaning forward, I open my mouth wide and inhale sharply. Harvey comes behind me and pats my back with his gloved hand, telling me to take slow deep breaths. After a moment, the feeling goes away. I look at Harvey, wide-eyed. "What the fuck just happened?" My throat is still stinging with pain as if a porcupine is crawling through it.

It had rained yesterday, and the door had swelled as it always did afterward, catching in the doorframe. He tugged harder. The door popped open, but he was rewarded for his efforts with an aching pulse in his right shoulder. It had been hurting lately. Ever since he’d twisted it when burying the Jensen kid last spring, after he rolled his car on Bassler Road. Whitey stood before the shed’s open door, right hand still on the knob, left hand gently kneading the leathery meat of his right shoulder, which throbbed dully. Dr. Fitzgerald at Utica General said it was probably a torn rotator cuff. He’d recommended surgery. Or at least physical therapy. Whitey had waved off the recommendation, claimi

I suspected that the Chinese food I ate at lunch was just giving me problem since I have been having indigestion for the last couple of day. It wasn’t until I started feeling a great pain in my right shoulder and my arm, followed with the pain in front of my neck and then up to my jaw, I knew something was really wrong. I leaned over the wall because I felt a sudden punch, more like a sledgehammer to my chest that was giving me a hard time from standing.

“Scarlett.” “What?” “We’re hockey players.” He lifted one shoulder. “We’re always injured.” I laughed quietly. “I guess that’s true.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My shoulders usually take the worst of it.” I froze. He continued speaking without noticing. “My left shoulder especially.” He rotated it slightly. “It acts up sometimes after long matches.” The moment the words left his mouth, I wished I had never asked. My heart dropped. I didn’t want to know.

The sudden release of tension was physical, almost violent. His chest was heaving, the thin black training vest damp and clinging to the sharp lines of his ribs. His breath came in rapid, ragged plumes of white mist that swirled around his face before vanishing into the freezing gloom. Beneath the fabric, his left shoulder was screaming—a deep, hot, throbbing ache that radiated from the fractured collarbone straight down to his chest. The black athletic tape had held, but the sheer force of the triple Lutz’s landing impact had stretched the adhesive to its absolute limit, pulling the raw skin beneath it taut.

CIARA The pain in my shoulder woke me up. It was a sharp, deep ache that made it hard to even drag air into my lungs, and every time I tried to shift my weight, my limbs felt completely pinned down against the mattress. Right next to my head, a heart monitor was beeping too fast, the loud rhythm making my skull throb.

I cough again, and I watch her physically jolt, raising her hands to shield herself from the airborne germs. "Ooh, babe, you look..." she says through gritted teeth, unable to finish the sentence. I try to force myself to sit up, but the weight in my chest sends me collapsing right back down into the cushions; a sharp, violent pain pierces behind my eyes. "Ow," I wince, pulling a hand out from under the blankets to massage my pounding temples. "I shouldn't have sat up that fast." I close my eyes as another ragged cough tears out of my throat.

Grinding pain. I hissed through my teeth, jaw clenched tight. No time to baby it. I leaned back against the rock, locked my spine, gripped the wrist with my left hand. Steadied my breath. Counted to three. Then jerked it forward and up. A sickening pop tore through my shoulder. Vision sparked white for a second. I bit down on a guttural noise and forced myself to breathe through the pain. It held. Joint back in place. The climb was slow, but I made it up.

She was looking at me, a half-smile on her lips, to see how I would react. I reached for her lovely breasts with both hands. As it turned out, that wasn't such a good idea. My shoulder and collarbone both protested; that wasn't the ideal position for either of them. A twinge of pain spoiled the sensation for me. I gave up that attempt, and relaxed my left side, letting my shoulder rest on the bed. My right arm wasn't hurt, but when I extended it, I still felt a twinge on my left, in my collarbone. To make matters worse, the feeling in my injured hand was mixed, at best - both pleasure and discomfort.

10 minutes before James grabbed his injured shoulder and winced in pain as he opened the armrests around it. He raised his elbow to stretch the movement of the injured shoulder joint again. Painfully and a bit breathless, he stood in front of an old mirror to exercise his left hand. James took a shotgun on his right side and loaded all the bullets one by one with a bit of gasp.