Arthroscopy is the name given to the procedure which involves a surgeon diagnosing joint problems and finding treatments. This sort of procedure involves a surgeon using a small narrow tube that is attached to a fibre-optic video camera. The surgeon inserts this tube through a small incision which is cut using a scalpel. Using an arthroscope is preferable for both surgeons and patients as it keeps the incision area small and eliminates the need for open surgery. The smaller incision means the patients will experience less pain and will have a reduced recovery time.
It is always recommended that you speak to a specialist about your issue. For example, if your shoulder is the problem, speak to a shoulder injury specialist. Melbourne is a city with some absolutely great surgeons who could change your life. They have access to the best equipment and best cameras to ensure the surgery is done with the utmost care and accuracy.
It’s normal to feel nervous when going into surgery, but patients can have peace of mind knowing that shoulder arthroscopies have been performed since the 1970s. Over the years, the technology for these surgeries has gotten even better and new techniques are being discovered.
There are a few risks associated with shoulder arthroscopy. These risks include tissue or nerve damage due to the placement and movement of instruments within the joint, infection and blood clots. Despite these risks, arthroscopy procedures are considered to be safe and complications are rare.
I have a feeling my daughter has been lending her car out to this really horrible friend of hers. Her best friend is a crude and rude girl who can’t get her life together and takes advantage of my daughter. The most recent example of this is the last time I went to visit my daughter. It seemed like she was trying to hide her car from me. Then there was this one day when she was missing from her apartment for a couple of hours. When she came back she was suddenly all in the mood to take me for a cruise.
Despite not living in the same state as my daughter for the last ten years, I can read her adorable face just like I could when she was five. She may be intelligent, but she is also the world’s worst liar. The car was a gift that I gave her, so I know she’s trying her hardest to take care of it. Before giving the car to her I arranged for a car servicing mechanic near Bentleigh to take a look at the car and ensure it would be in the best possible condition. My daughter has done a great job of taking care of said car. Her friend on the other hand? Trouble. I have a sneaking suspicion she did some damage to the brakes. I’m not working as a detective for no reason. I could see how hesitant my daughter was every time she pressed her foot down.
I knew there was nothing wrong with her brakes until recently because just before I gifted her the car, I made sure it had a brake repair. Close to Moorabbin, there is a great brake repair mechanic and I made sure he did the job. There was no reason for her brakes to be damaged so soon. Besides, my daughter drives with care. There’s no doubt in my mind that her friend caused this as she seemed very distant when speaking about said friend. It takes a lot to get my daughter upset, and I could tell there was something wrong.
Moving home is never a smooth process. Somehow you always have to end up liaising with about fifty people who can never help you and always need to refer you to another person. Then there’s all these hidden gems that require maintenance that you somehow never discover until it’s time to move in. I swear the real estate companies have some sort of deal going with maintenance companies. They destroy the utilities, then take a cut of the maintenance repair fees. That’s how all these real estate agents manage to afford their swanky suits no doubt! Ok, back to reality – I’m sure that doesn’t happen but I do love a conspiracy.
It’s the middle of winter and we’ve spent one night in our place. Sadly we are nowhere near having all our furniture moved in. This is the fault of the moving company we are working with. They made a mistake on our van hire so we can’t move most of our possessions until two days from now. Due to their error, we had to spend our first night on mattresses. To top it off, we desperately require a gas heating repair. Canberra is an unfamiliar place to us, so we don’t have any connections with local repair or maintenance companies. We always want somebody trustworthy to do the job to ensure that we can rely on them should anything go wrong in the future. My husband says he’ll do a thorough research of various local heating and air conditioning repairs companies based in Canberra. I’ve always been very intuitive so when I saw the gas heater was broken, something in me knew to check the air conditioning. Lo and behold it too was broken. I can’t see us needing our air conditioning any time soon as the weather is still very brisk, but I’d much rather have it already in working order for when we need it.
The repair person came to visit us the next day after we called. He mentioned that he quite frequently sees new tenants often struggling with their utilities. At least it’s not just us.
The beat-up ute trundled up the side of the mountain, huge tyres digging into the loose rock.
‘This was a terrible idea,’ I said through gritted teeth. My boyfriend ignored me, brow furrowed as he wrestled with the steering wheel, driving us further and further up.
‘I thought we were going on a date!’ I grumbled.
‘This is a date!’ he protested, as the back fishtailed slightly, gearbox protesting. ‘We’re having fun!’
‘You’re having fun,’ I shot back. ‘I’m getting motion sick.’
‘Oh, it’s not that bad,’ he chuckled. ‘If it makes you feel better, I did just get a log book service. Near Frankston!’
‘Why would that make me feel better?’
‘I don’t know, actually,’ he frowned. ‘Just felt like something you might want to know.’
‘I want to know what time we’re getting home,’ I sighed, pressing my forehead against the window, the cool glass bringing me a little relief. ‘Hang on – why is it so hot? It’s the middle of winter?’
‘Uh…’ he said, concentrating on shifting down. ‘Heat-wave?’
‘But it’s snowing outside,’ I said. I rolled down the window, sticking my hand out to collect some of the snowflakes. I expected it to melt into my hand, but instead it left a dirty residue on my palm. ‘What the…’ I muttered.
‘Are you letting snow into my car?’
‘I don’t think it’s snow,’ I said. ‘It looks kinda like… kinda like ash.’
Suddenly, the ground shook massively underneath us and the car’s suspension groaned at the unexpected strain.
‘What was that?’ my boyfriend grunted. ‘I don’t want to have to find a mechanic to get my car’s suspension repaired!’
‘I think that might be the least of our issues!’ I said, pointing at a crack in the rocks opening up ahead of us, a warm orange glow spilling out onto the ash-caked ground around it. ‘Did you bring me to a volcano?’
‘It was supposed to be romantic!’ he hollered back at me. ‘And it wasn’t supposed to be erupting!’
‘You’re really doing this, huh?’ my wife sighed as I stepped out onto the patio in my workman’s outfit.
‘Of course!’ I grinned, sliding the sunglasses onto my face. ‘I made a promise didn’t I?’
‘They’re not even going to be able to use a treehouse for, like, a decade,’ she grunted, cradling her heavily-pregnant belly. ‘You’ll have to basically rebuild it by the time they’re ready.’
‘You don’t think my handiwork can survive a decade?’ I asked her, shaking my head in mock pain. ‘I’m wounded.’
‘Not yet, you’re not,’ she mumbled. ‘Look, just because you found a hardware store near Hampton doesn’t mean you’re ready to build anything.’
‘They had a class,’ I pouted.
‘On?’ she raised an eyebrow. ‘Treehouse building?’
I met her gaze for as long as I could, then relented with a sigh. ‘Making birdhouses,’ I admitted.
‘What? Really?’ she perked up. ‘We have a birdhouse?’
‘I failed at building the birdhouse,’ I sighed again. ‘It fell apart.’
She looked at me for a moment, then burst out laughing. I frowned.
‘It was a tricky design!’
‘Trickier than a full-sized treehouse?!’ she cackled, clearly trying not to wet herself. ‘You’re unbelievable. No way am I letting you climb that stupid tree!’
‘But… but I have all of this high quality Cheltenham timber,’ I limply gestured at the huge pile of wood on the back lawn. ‘What am I supposed to do with that?’
‘Put it in the shed?’ she shrugged.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I crossed my arms, pouting again. ‘It won’t last ten years in the shed. They’ll get damaged for sure.’
‘Oh?’ she said, blinking up at me innocently. She leaned back in her chair and surveyed me pointedly. ‘You don’t think they’ll last? Interesting.’
‘Oh come on,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s completely different to if I—’
‘Staple them to a tree first?’
‘Hey,’ I frowned. ‘We both know I was going to use nails.’
‘Honestly, honey,’ she said, standing up and patting me on the arm. ‘I was half-expecting you to use string.’
Laughing to herself, she waddled back inside.
I swung open the door to the barber shop and waved at James in the corner. He was working on a young boy’s haircut, and doing a truly terrible job.
I shook my head and chuckled to myself, sitting down at the collection of chairs near the door and picking up a magazine while I waited.
‘All done!’ James said with a grin, dusting off the kid’s shoulders with a brush. ‘Go tell your mum she owes me twenty bucks.’
‘Thanks!’ the kid said, bounding out of the chair and through the door.
I watched him go, then turned back to James with a raised eyebrow.
‘I think you might owe him twenty bucks.’
‘He came in here asking for that mullet,’ James sighed, throwing his hands up. ‘Sometimes you just can’t help them. How’re you doing?’
‘Same old, same old,’ I shrugged. ‘Hey, I need your help with something.’
‘You never just visit anymore,’ he shook his head, grabbing a broom from where it was leaning against the wall and starting to sweep up.
‘Oh, shut up,’ I laughed. ‘I got a buddy who just got into town and he needs to find a shop in Brisbane that does good tattoos.’
‘In Brisbane?’ James frowned, leaning on the broom. ‘That might be tricky. What sort of ink does your friend need done?’
‘Nothing too interesting,’ I said. ‘Just a standard, uh… big tattoo.’
‘A big tattoo?’ James said. ‘Maybe your friend should start smaller, especially if he doesn’t know the scene yet.’
‘What if my friend, uh… needs a big tattoo for a reason?’
James paused his sweeping and stopped, looking pointedly up at me.
‘What did you do?’
‘What? Me? Nothing, I don’t know—’
‘Where is it?’ he cut me off, gesturing for me to show him. I sighed and stood up, lifting my shirt.
‘Oh my god,’ he cackled. ‘You’re gonna need one hell of a professional cover up tattoo design to hide that, son!’
‘Can you help me or not?’ I glared at him.
‘I don’t think anyone can help you!’ he laughed at me, as I stormed out of the shop. ‘Good luck… Sweet Lips!’
‘Wait a second,’ I yelled into the phone, pressing it to my chest as I spun around to gesture at the contractors. One of them saw me, tapping his buddy on the shoulder and getting him to power off his tool.
‘Thank god,’ I sighed, picking the phone back up. ‘Now I can hear myself think.’
‘What’s the problem?’ my husband, David, asked me from the other end of the line.
‘The problem is that the kitchen is all wrong,’ I said exasperatedly. ‘The island is in the complete wrong spot!’
‘The contractors installed it wrong?’ he asked. I could almost hear him frowning, even above the noise of his car. ‘Just get them to put it back to where we asked, that’s their problem.’
‘No, no, the contractors did as they’re told,’ I said, narrowing my eyes at the two in the room with me, impatiently waiting for me to finish my call. ‘But it’s clearly wrong. We need to reconsider our plans.’
‘Rebecca,’ David groaned at me, ‘I told you – this is why we need to hire professional kitchen designers. Melbourne is full-to-bursting with them, just pick one!’
‘They’ll never understand my vision!’ I yelled into the phone.
‘You don’t understand your vision!’ he shot back. ‘Look, I didn’t want to do this renovation in the first place—’
‘Excuse me?!’ I said, gobsmacked. ‘This was a joint decision.’
He actually chuckled as I said that.
‘Absolutely not,’ he said. ‘This was all you from the start. You said you were dying for a new kitchen renovation. Ideas were flowing from you like water, you told me.’
‘From us,’ I hissed, stomping into the hallway. ‘So you hate it? Just tell me.’
‘I hate what it’s doing to you,’ he said gently. ‘You seemed much happier before we had all of our walls removed.’
‘But think how perfect it’ll be when we’re done,’ I said softly, toeing an abandoned nail that had found its way onto the floor.
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘but only if you call someone.’
I sighed deeply, looking around at the exposed beams.
‘Fine,’ I said, snapping the phone shut.
‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ I asked our daughter nervously, waving my hand in front of her face.
She gurgled up at me happily, then threw her bowl of cereal out of the high-chair.
‘You don’t think you’re going a little overboard?’ Linda rolled her eyes from the seat next to me.
‘I’m worried!’ I said, turning back to look at her. ‘What if she needs glasses?!’
‘She’s two!’
‘Exactly!’ I nodded. ‘Right about the age where she develops depth perception! We can’t risk her eyesight being compromised at this crucial stage!’
‘Is that true?’ Linda frowned. ‘That feels like it isn’t true.’
‘I read it in a book,’ I said, brushing her off. ‘Or online… it might have been a meme, now I think about it…’
‘Well, we aren’t finding a children’s optometrist to do a kid’s eye test on our daughter anytime soon,’ Linda said, snapping out the Sunday paper. ‘So, relax, enjoy your weekend with your family.’
I sat back, trying my best to release the knot of tension in the pit of my stomach. Emma chuckled happily, playing with a stray cornflake on her tray.
‘You’re still worrying, aren’t you?’
‘I’m her father, Linda!’
‘No, you’re a neurotic!’ she rolled her eyes again. ‘Fine, you want to get her looked at?’
‘Yeah,’ I frowned, suspicious that she wasn’t actually being supportive.
‘Then you track down an optometrist in the Bayside area who can see us on such short notice,’ she said, standing up. ‘And Emma and I are going to go to the park.’
‘But what if I find somewhere?’ I protested.
‘Then you’ll know exactly where to find us!’
She stomped past me, swooping down to pick up little Emma and cradling her as she walked to the stroller.
‘Are you taking the car?’
‘How else will we get to the good park across town?’
‘But how am I supposed to come and get you without a—’
‘Not my problem!’ Linda laughed, slamming the door shut behind them.
‘How bad is it?’ Micha asked me, closing his eyes as I gingerly pried off his hiking boot.
‘I don’t know yet,’ I grumbled, annoyed that this was how I was spending my weekend. It was supposed to be a fun couple of days away, just hiking through the pristine national park. Now I was standing over my best friend’s disgusting foot in the middle of nowhere while he suckled on a camel bag for comfort.
‘This sucks,’ I said, again.
‘It sucks more for me,’ he protested.
‘No, it hurts more for you,’ I shot back, tugging on his sweat-soaked sock. ‘I’m absolutely getting the worst end of the deal.
His sock scraped itself over the end of his foot, and I almost fell over, suppressing the urge to vomit.
‘What is it?’ he asked me, hand pressed over his forehead.
I couldn’t immediately answer, still locked in a battle with my gag reflex.
‘Steve?’ he asked, peering out at me. ‘What is it?’
‘You’ve got—’ I gasped out, pausing to press a hand against my mouth. ‘Toenail fungus,’ I spat out. ‘It’s fungus.’
‘What?!’ he yelled, sitting upright and peering down at his foot. ‘How the hell did that happen?’
‘You know I have no idea how to treat toenail fungus, right?’ I said, looking pointedly up at the sky. ‘And we’re in the middle of nowhere?’
‘It’s okay, I can make it,’ he said, nodding to himself. ‘We’re what, a kilometre away from the next campsite?’
‘Not even close,’ I sighed. ‘At least twenty.’
‘Twenty?!’
‘You’re getting shrill.’
‘Because my foot is about to fall off,’ he squealed.
‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘Just have to get higher up the mountain, until we get a signal. We’ll get you to a podiatrist soon enough. If you’re good, I’ll ask about getting you some custom orthotics to help with foot pain. Cheltenham has a well-funded rescue department, right?’
‘I have no idea,’ Micha said, starting to panic.
‘Relax, relax,’ I sighed. ‘Give me your phone and I’ll go find us a signal. Oh, and Micha?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You disgust me.’
‘Are you sure we don’t need to stop?’ James asked, nervously scratching underneath his beanie as he glanced down at my feet.
‘No, don’t be stupid,’ I grumbled. ‘I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m enjoying a lovely hike with my friend, why wouldn’t I be fine?’
‘Uh, I don’t know,’ he said, unconvinced. ‘It sounded like you hurt yourself pretty bad back there.’
‘I told you,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I made that noise because I got a jolt, not because I’m in pain!’
‘The snapping noise?’
‘What?’
‘You made a snapping noise,’ he said. ‘Some part of your body did, at least.’
‘That’s absurd.’
‘I think it was your ankle,’ he nodded. ‘Actually, I’m just trying to be polite – dude, I one-hundred percent heard your ankle make a snapping sound.’
‘Well, it’s fine now!’ I cried out, waving my arms at him. ‘No need to rush me to a local podiatrist in Cheltenham!’
‘That’s a very specific thing for you to… not want me to do?’ he frowned. ‘I’m confused.’
‘Don’t be!’ I said, laughing. My soul momentarily left my body and I frowned at the tinges of mania I was feeling, before it was sucked back in and I forgot that I was worried. ‘Come on, let’s just finish this—yeowch!’
My foot had just lightly grazed a pebble, sending a bolt of unimaginable pain up my nervous system.
‘Jason, you’re clearly injured,’ James rolled his eyes. ‘Quite badly. Just sit down and let me call an ambulance.’
‘What?’ I laughed. ‘A helicopter?! Since when am I royalty!’
‘We’re like, three hundred metres down the trail,’ he frowned. ‘I think they might just carry you.’
‘Look,’ I said, quickly. ‘I’m feeling fine. Got my brand new hiking boots, got my adult orthotics to keep my arches supported – I even have a fun hiking stick I picked up before!’
‘Didn’t you pick it up because you were in too much agony to stand otherwise?’ James asked.
I smiled thinly at him, tempted to teach him a quick lesson about agony and hiking sticks.