B77) Golf

My impetus into the game of golf was provided by reconstructive shoulder surgery. The surgery was the result of my bull riding back in 1980.  (See blog: B46 The polish cowboy" for more details about my natural born skills for bull riding).

The surgery was scheduled for February 14^th 1988 (Valentines Day). I began to think about exercise as it related to rehabilitation. I needed to get involved with some activity after the surgery. Something fun. If it was going to be lots of fun I would feel more motivation to have a success rehabilation for the shoulder. I backed off running for a few years. From 1985 to 1988 was exercise in general was minimal. I needed to get involved with something but what?

The inspiration came as I sat at a stop sign near our house. Canada Hills Country Club was right in front of me. It was in front of me, next to me and behind me. There were two eighteen hold golf courses within walking distance of our house.

“Golf. Yes. Of course. That’s excellent”

We went to check out the Country Club together to inquire about membership. It was a non equity club. The admission fee was greatly reduced (waved) as they were in search of new members. We joined and I went shopping for a set of golf clubs. I ended up with TaylorMade TPC clubs and a PingPal for a putter.

The surgery was horrific. It went well but the pain was overwhelming. My right SC Joint (sternoclavicular) was reconstructed. The SC Joint is where the collarbone meets the breast plate. They cut off about an inch of my collar bone then reconfigured tendons and ligamants.  

When surgeons start cutting off bone ---------------------------  it's going to hurt.

I woke up in post-op screaming. The pain meds didn’t work well and I was overly vocal about the pain. It was like torture. They moved me into my own private recovery room because of all the noise I was making. Then they hit me with a big dose of Thorazine which put me into a catatonic state. The downside of this pharmacological choice was the pain. It was not accounted for. The Thorazine stopped me from yelling and screaming but it didn’t do squat for the pain.  

Eventually I was taken to my room. I had a roommate. He had a bed that was mechanical. Up and down. It's what we think of when we think of a hospital bed. My was not and I was in agony. The slightest movement was incredibly painful.

My family doctor stopped by to check on my post surgical condition. It felt like one of those Steven King moments. I could see my doctor standing at the foot of my hospital bed. I was unable to move or speak. That fucking Thorazine laid waste to my mind. I wanted to say:

“Help”.

“I’m in pain”

“Get me out of here”

I could not utter a single syllable. My eyes worked perfect. I could hear but it sounded like an echo way off in a distant canyon.

She smiled then left


All hope was then lost.

The following day I was released from the hospital and given a prescription for Tylenol 3. I stopped by my family doctor’s office for help. I was in search of medication that would help. I showed her what the surgeon gave me. She tossed that script into the garbage and handed me a new prescription.


There's a limit to what medication can do.

I had a massage therapist show up at the house every day for the next two weeks. When the masseur showed up and I was in agony. When he left I felt the agony was gone. It was remarkable. Truly remarkable. While I was getting the massage a cassette tape for hypnosis healing was playing in the background.

I drove by the Country Club every day. The golf clubs were sitting in my living room.  This helped to inspire me in a positive way.

The orthopedic surgeon was astonished at my recovery. I don’t recall how long it took before I was on the golf course, four weeks. Maybe six weeks. When the doctor gave the green light I became very active. I embraced the game of golf with all my enthusiasm. It was the right game at the right time. I bounced around to a few different instructors eventually I met a local instructor that spent sixteen years on the PGA tour. The man knew the game of golf and he was an excellent instructor.

With the right teacher and the right amount of practice I went from a nineteen to a nine in six months.

There was a poker table in the men's locker room. Often there would be a poker game on Sunday afternoons. I played all the time. We would have the cocktail waitress come into the men's locker room to deliver our drinks. There were some good times there.