My dad was 65 when he had shoulder surgery. He had a bone spur on his shoulder joint, and it had gradually weakened his shoulder and was causing pain to the point he could not manage it with pain killers any longer. He could not do simple things like hand clothes on a line, he could not swim or throw a ball. The surgery was pretty drastic. The bone spur had actually cut the muscle, and they needed to both remove the bone spur, and repair the torn muscle.
His recovery was even more traumatic, as it involved lots and lots of pain over an extended period. The needed to start physiotherapy almost immediately… walking his fingers up a wall to stop the shoulder freezing and the muscles wasting too much and shortening. It was horrible to watch. Then a trip back to the surgeon some 3 months later revealed he had scar tissue that was restricting the joint preventing my dad from raising his arm vertically. The surgeon simply held my dad’s arm, told him to both relax and brace himself, them bent the arm up till there was an audible “SNAP!” and the scar tissue broke and my dad’s arm was left pointing more or less straight up. Or at least, I think there was a loud snap noise, it was difficult to be sure over the obscenity my dad yelled out… something that rhymed with fire-truck and with the same first and last 3 letters. Very loudly. My dad is a pharmacist and has great respect for doctors but her later told me that was the closest he’d ever come to punching one… simply to stop the pain from being inflicted.
Suffice to say, I figure I would prefer to avoid this potential future trauma, so when both my shoulders started to “go” when I was only 38…. I feared the worst. I’d played football and water polo for years and done lots of big weights to give me the size and strength needed to compete at a high level. I knew my shoulders were getting touchy, but figured it was nothing to worry about so I continued on with my regime. But then, it all got too much