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My physical therapist, Zhizong Cao — otherwise known as Keri, for reasons I've yet to discover — beat me up yesterday. You'd think I had pissed her off.

And here I am, weak as a kitten in my right arm, using only one pound weights to strengthen my shoulder. Pathetic. I should be using 40–50-pound weights like I used to. Right? Not so fast Watson; all the evidence is yet to present itself.

Seems my shoulder (trapezius, deltoids, superspinator, pectorals, and scapula, for all you anatomy freakazoids, like me) is not only atrophied but is a bit "frozen," if you will. Normally, the muscles are, somewhat, in a state of balance, so that everything works smoothly. Some of the opposing muscles have weakened to the point that the strong member of the "pair" has no choice but to overpower the weaker muscle.

That's why I frequently find my shoulder has crept up near my ear when I'm not being conscious of my gross anatomy. When I am being conscious of my gross anatomy, I usually find myself hugging the ceramic altar. . . simply because it is so gross. (Joke.)

All of that said, I do find myself getting stronger. However, Keri says I'll get more benefit from working the muscles through everyday activities than through an hour of exercise twice a week. To that end, I've been working my tuchas off in getting my new home set up, assembling shelves and desks, and setting up my bed. (Try that with only one good arm!) Maybe I should hire myself out as a handyman, just for the exercise. In another lifetime, I mean.

Aside from my shoulder, I'm still dealing with pain in my jaw that is fairly complex. Let me see if I can describe it. The normal amount of pain I have, chronically, is about a 1 or 2 on a 10-scale. Background noise, I call it.

When I eat, the first several bites are about a 7 or 8, sometimes a 9. I'm not sure, really, what a 10 is; I'd probably pass out. The pain is centered on my temporomandibular joint (TMJ). At home, I have the luxury of privacy and can scream until the pain subsides. In public, it would be far too uncomfortable for those around me to hear me scream, so I swallow it, close my eyes, and shake for a bit.

Drinking — even water — can be almost as painful. Juice, being acidic, often will set my parotid salivary gland into paroxysms of discomfort. A different type of pain, entirely.

On the odd occasion, the muscle in my jaw will, for whatever reason, contract without warning or stimulus. This is particularly attractive. I usually stay away from small children and animals when this happens.

Monday, Jan. 21st, I go in for x-rays on my jaw to find out the source of the pain in my jaw. My friend, Dana, is an ENT surgeon (not a part of my case), who conjectures the meniscus — the cartilage in the joint — may be dislocated and gets "pinched" when I chew. Sounds reasonable. I'll find out next week.

All this pain has shown me one very important thing about myself. I can tolerate a LOT of pain. If that weren't so, I wouldn't be putting on weight. Not that I really wanted to regain the weight I'd lost. . . .

Going through the process of dealing with the cancer and having it removed was quite an effective weight-loss program; believe it or not, I weighed 178 pounds when I started in late-June, early-July of last year. When I got out of the hospital, I weighed 151. Yesterday, I stepped on a scale at Parkland and weighed about 164. Looks like I'll have to find another way to get down to a healthier 145 pounds.

Experiencing this pain in my jaw and in my shoulder has been difficult, frustrating, and, yes, a blessing. I'll leave it to you to ponder why.