Giving Thanks for a Birdie Chance

At the gym today I ran into a woman who doesn't golf but who knows I golf. "How's the golf?" she asked.
   I pointed to my elbow. "I haven't golfed for awhile," I said. "I have tendonitis."
   "Is it tennis elbow or the true golfer's elbow?" she asked.
   "Actually, it's neither," I said, impressed that she knew there was a difference. "Just some other kind of tendonitis near my elbow, according to my physical therapist." Although I thought I had tennis elbow from golf, it turns out I don't. However, the treatment has been the same: rest, stretching, strengthening, and some interesting treatments involving paraffin wax and ultrasound. Plus forearm massages.

The woman at the gym knew all about tennis elbow, since she had it in both arms. Hers was not from tennis either, but from her job as a dental hygienist. Her husband has had tennis elbow -- from golf -- for about 3 years. Between the two of them, they've had every treatment in the book, from physical therapy to laser treatments to surgery. They also use the FlexBar, which uses eccentric (say it like "eee-centric") to strengthen the elbow tendons the correct way. My physical therapist has me doing eccentric exercises too, but using a regular 3-lb hand weight and flexing my left wrist down (not up).

Since developing tendonitis in my elbow, I've encountered at least six people who have had it. That's the thing about being human. Physically, humans are generally made of the same stuff: blood, muscles, bones, organs and tendons and such. No hurt, injury, affliction or disease is so great or so small that you will eventually run into someone else who's suffered from the same thing. And sometimes, just knowing that can ease the pain.

Every little bit helps, but the main problem is so many things can stress the elbow tendons, like cooking, driving, typing on a computer and even shampooing one's hair, that it's hard to truly rest. But at least I've managed to stay off the golf course.

Except for that gorgeous, sunny day in the 60s a couple of weeks ago. I went out to play 9 holes, took two Advil and wore a compression sleeve on my left forearm. I played gingerly and deliberately, in terms of my mental game, and made a great effort to really use my core on the downswing, relying less on my arms, until the very end of the swing when I had to whip through and release. Perhaps because of my increased focus on technique, I hit some of the longest drives I've hit all season.

On a par 4, I hit a great drive and landed a lucky, long second shot to within birdie chance of the hole. I didn't make it, but I holed out for a solid par. I played fairly well, and part of me was tempted to go for 18 holes. But I did the smart thing and stopped.

Since then, I haven't golfed at all and part of me is dying inside. It's gonna be one of the warmest Thanksgiving holidays in recent years, and normally I'd be looking forward to getting in a round. But not this year. Maybe in another month, if I do what I'm supposed to and things go as planned, I will play again. I may even get another shot at birdie. And for that, I am truly thankful.