“There’s something stuck in your left shoulder,” the middle-aged grandmother healer said to me over the phone. ”Do you want me to cut it?”
I froze. Suddenly I was no longer a 35 year old single woman, lying on my bed, in my parents’ home on Prince Edward Island, but back to my 23 year old self living in New York City, as if it all happened yesterday.
Of course I knew exactly what, or rather who, she was referring to. My ex from 20 years ago. The Ex. The Big to my Carrie. The shoulder in question was related to an injury I had endured on the night which I typically call “The Finger Incident,” which involved his losing a finger tip, and us saying “I love you” for the first time. The night that changed my life left me with a bummed left shoulder that still clicked and clacked from untreated scar tissue, but also provided me with hands down one of the funniest anecdotes that I occasionally pull out in conversation when it came to the “craziest dating story” port…
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