Two big things happened yesterday: Our corporate office moved with work, and the surgeon called halfway through the day.
The new office is in a building that they bought and renovated to fit the company, it has an elevator, a coffee maker that's smarter than I am, and a quiet room. It's mostly complete, with a few rooms missing finishing components, but everyone is glad to be in one place and enjoying the great new space.
As we were getting boxes unpacked and answering emails as we could on the fly, my phone rang and the surgeon asked if I had a minute to talk about my MRI results. I wandered off to the still doorless quiet room and settled in to hear about the physical therapy plan. Instead I heard about the labral tears. The tears that were supposed to be minor are not. My right side has an anterior tear and my left a superior tear, and they're severe enough that I'm being referred to an arthroscopic surgeon who is more comfortable taking this on as the original surgeon feels it's beyond his original plan and scope of surgical care.
That's...not what I was prepared for. Instead I got some quiet crying in a comfortable room as some bewildered coworkers walked by, and some more waiting for the next phase.
Nothing to do but move onward.
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