A good friend worked some magic and got me seen much earlier than I would have been.
The upshot is: the problem isn’t my arm. He thinks I have a compressed disc. The shoulder he says is separated and has probably been that way since I injured it mountain biking fifteen years ago.
So, I have better drugs and a MRI scheduled sometime next month.
Until then, I’m just going to be glad I already have a beautiful daughter—I’ve had eight x-rays in the last three weeks.
