Shoulder Blade Pain Radiating Down Arm Novels & Stories

From the feel of it, the bone must have shifted from its socket during the fall, the skin around is equally bruised and battered. I wince while trying to sit up with one arm and then bite on my lower lip, counting to ten backwards. Once I reach one, I push back at my shoulder with enough force to pop the bone back into its usual spot. “Aaargh!!” I scream from the pain that wrecks through my entire body from the shoulder. It dissipates in seconds, leaving an only slightly throbbing shoulder with a joint that is too weak to be used for now. I fall on my back, gasping for air and taking a break from the pain.

He flinched slightly but didn't speak. "The rotator cuff and scapular stabilizers are locked," she continued. "If they stay that way, your whole shoulder girdle will overcompensate. Your next punch, the strain will hit your trap or your bicep. You won't be able to lift your arm—except out of anger. And anger won't get you through five hundred rounds." Lennox slowly turned his head, his eyes narrowing like ice. "Don't lecture me." "I'm not lecturing," Sloane replied calmly. "I'm informing. This isn't a power struggle. It's biomechanics."

I look at my left arm. It’s strapped tight to my torso in a massive foam and Velcro brace that locks the shoulder joint firmly in place. A thick black strap cuts diagonally across my chest, digging into my neck. I can’t lift the arm above my hip. I can’t even twitch my bicep without a sharp, grinding spike of white-hot agony driving straight into my collarbone. I tell my left arm to move. The muscles misfire. The bone shifts against the heavy metal pins Tariq drilled into my shoulder.

Pretend there's free pizza at the finish line. But suddenly, I feel it. Pain. Sharp, stabbing pain in my shoulders. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. It's exactly what Nath warned me about last night. The overtraining. The exhaustion. The consequences of not listening to the person who actually knows what he's talking about. I thought that after practicing so much, it wouldn't be this bad. I thought I'd be fine. I was wrong. So, so wrong. The pain is intense, restricting my movements with every stroke. Each time I try to pull my arm through the water, it feels like someone's stabbing my shoulder with a hot knife.

The specific kind of slowness meant she wanted me to see exactly what was coming with enough time to feel it fully before it happened. My arms had gone past the dull ache and into that sharp, burning numbness that lived in the joint when it had been forced back at the wrong angle for too long. Every time I pulled against Eric and Josh's grip even slightly, the pain just climbed higher into my shoulder and settled there which made me understand that there was nothing I could do.

I groan and pinch my eyes close, concentrating on how I can numb the pain. I open my eyes slowly. Jace is still kneeling in front of me, waiting. My shoulder throbs in time with my heartbeat, the wet fabric of my top clinging uncomfortably to my skin. I reach for the hem, trying to lift it, but the second I pull, pain shoots down my arm. “Ah—” I suck in a breath, wincing hard as the strain cuts deep into my shoulder. My fingers stop moving. Jace moves in immediately. “Hold on,” he says, gently brushing my hands away. “Don’t force it.”

That tender, sweet, relieved smile she always had when she laid eyes on me. And while I tried smiling back, my nose only let me go so far before I winced. I groaned. “Yep. That’s broken.” Rae sighed. “Your shoulder’s dislocated, too.” “Explains the back pain.” “Well, lying on a rocky river bank will do that, too.” I snickered. “I suppose it will.”

“A handful of my co-workers have it. They’re a lot older than me, but it is what it is, I guess. So, am I damned to live like this forever, doc?” “No, there are treatments. Start with ice and Advil for the pain and try a wrist brace.” “I will. Thanks.” Archer steps closer and hasn’t let go of my wrist yet. “You said it makes your shoulder hurt?” “It does, but I think part of that is bad posture. I know I slouch at my desk.” I put my free hand over Archer’s. “It’s not something a massage can’t fix, right?” The floor in the butler’s pantry creaks and Archer drops my wrist and steps back. Dean emerges into the kitchen.

“Still hurts, but less,” I said, flinching a little, and my face was still twisted in pain. The doctor pressed lightly around my shoulder. “Any sharp pain when I press here?” “Just sore,” I said. “Good. That means nothing feels badly damaged,” he said, and smiled. He tapped my arm lightly. “Can you push against my hand?” I tried what he said, but failed. “My shoulder feels weak,” I said, a little bit devastated.

The thought sent a chill through him, and he forced himself to turn away. His arm ached with every step, pain reverberating up his shoulder and into his neck. It was still in a sling, and he planned to keep it there until the last possible moment. He’d need it to shoot, but at least it wasn’t the shoulder he’d need to rest the gun against. Still, he knew it would hurt.