UPDATE: I have a SLAP tear in my shoulder that requires surgery on February 15. I have been told they will have to do biceps tenodesis — affixing the biceps muscle to a different section of bone. My recovery time is estimated to be between 4 and 6 months, with the first month being immobilized and practically shut-in.

That said, the Worker’s Compensation has been a HUGE help. Perhaps the second-tallest person to ever be in my house showed me how to use my new prescription shoulder cooling tube system, and I already have PT sessions set up for late March.

In sad news, I will be missing quite a few events this year, and likely no catching crowd surfers until fall, if ever again, disappointing exactly 3 people.

As many of you have seen, I have spent the last three weeks in a sling. *And some times without it because the surgeon said I have to keep it moving to avoid fluid build-up. He also said I don’t have to wear it because, “it can’t really get any worse.”

Now, the sling is mainly used for the public. Like, “hey, that’s guys in a sling, best not touch his slung up arm.” And let me tell you, that has stopped almost no one from actually touching my arm.

But if it was just hanging out, so to speak, then weird twitches in pain would follow, and that’s not great. I can do most things with my left hand, forearm, and general, below-the-shoulder arm movements. But I cannot reach over my head or across the body.

Putting on shirts? Some difficulty. Applying deodorant? Getting better. Washing my right shoulder? The hot water will get it. Using the drive-thru ATM? F that noise. Why?

Because I fully tore my labrum at the Tech N9ne/Hollywood Undead show on Saturday, November 4.

When I tell people this, I get either, “that makes sense,” or, “who is Tech N9ne?”

And rarely, “how did it happen in specific detail.”

In a move that I didn’t see coming, let alone almost every concert-goer and most of the incoming staff, Tech N9ne was the show’s featured act. Meaning he would play before the headliner and after the opener, King Iso. Tech has headlined all over, and plenty of times in GR, let alone 20 Monroe. The same can be said of Hollywood. But Tech is typically a bigger draw and a more entertaining rapper than the party rap rockers.

His crew also had a handle on some security measures, pointing out green lasers to highlight unruly guests that should be removed. One such woman was dancing int he middle of the floor. Well, dancing is a loose term. When I got to the crowd, the other patrons told me what happened. The woman threw a drink each on two different men in front of her, so she could have more room to “dance.” Lo and behold, two different guys each unwittingly joined a wet tee-shirt contest during the Tech N9ne show. These were not the areolas I forethought.

When confronted, the small dancing woman — tattoo over her right eye like a cross between Post Malone and Mike Tyson — admitted everything she was accused of, then darted past me further into the human sea. I put my right arm out to cross, and like an arresting cable on an aircraft carrier, snagged the woman mid flight.

She hollered. She removed my radio headset. She kicked my thigh and left a bruise. I tweaked my shoulder as we took her out the emergency exit door.

The show goes on for 15 minutes.

Throngs of fans left for either the exits, the smoking sections, the bars, or the bathrooms. Nearly 800 chose the first option. This mass heat escape caught several patrons by surprise.

A sold-out show anywhere will get a little warm. A sold out show in winter in Michigan will get downright steamy. Amidst the chaos and confusion of an earlier than expected setlist, a woman was holding her friend and sister upright while walking through the lobby She was about to faint. The other woman braced her back right side, and I went to her back left.

And had she fallen backwards, this wouldn’t be an issue. The support and expectation to help at a moment’s notice were both present.

She fell forward.

Collapsing knees over toes, the fainting woman became deadweight onto herself. In my effort to catch part of her, I overextended my left arm, trapped against the underside of her left knee. Once again, perfect placement for a backwards fall, incomprehensibly out of position for a front slump.

Flashing back to the Dethlok/Babymetal show six weeks prior, picking this woman off the floor and into a wheelchair or triage center would be “light work.” During that similarly sold out show, two guests fainted — a man and a woman — and I picked them up off the ground into our awaiting EMTs.

Snapping back to November 4, the aiding woman tugged on the fainting woman’s arms to get her into a more prone position, while my supervisor and I each took a side to lift the unconscious woman into the strolling up wheelchair provided by the EMT.

Guests were still walking all around, joining merch lines, leaving, smoking, drinking, and here we were lifting a woman into a wheelchair. Except the “we” just became considerably weaker as I heard a tear and subtle pop in my left shoulder.

The rest of the night played out like you’d expect a Hollywood Undead show to play out. Stories for other times.

In this time, I have a road ahead filled with a 50/50 determination I will know more about On November 30, the day of my MRI. Is it just the labrum? Is it also the rotator cuff? The biceps? Will I need surgery, or just extensive physical therapy? All uncertain.

The only thing that seems to be certain is that when I say I got hurt at the Tech N9ne show — and people know who Tech N9ne is — they all just instantly “get it,” even if they didn’t know the full story until now.