Yes, it’s time for another installment of my series on the physical exam. The goals of this series are:
To educate my readers on the intricacies of the physical exam.
To teach the anatomy and physiology as it relates to different parts of the human body.
To delight my readers with my wit and fine prose.
World peace.
So you see, through my hard work and persistence (writing almost 30,000 words about the physical exam so far), I have come nowhere near any of these goals. In fact, I have made absolutely no progress toward world peace. I think I’ve been banned in Iran for using the word “Shuttlecraft” too many times.
Maybe I just need some new goals. How about these:
To irritate my high school English teachers.
To cause at least 200 people to waste time that they could have spent watching Oprah.
To make sure Canada stays north of us and does not sneak to Florida.
To put those pesky French people in their place.
Yes, I think those are much better goals.
Extremely Upper
Our journey over the human body has now led us to the long things that stick out of the top of your torso that have those grabby things on the ends. We doctors call these things arms. There are some hoity-toity doctors who call them the upper extremities. These are the doctors you don’t want to invite to dinner, as they will probably tell you disgusting scientific facts about the food you are eating. Consider yourself warned.
The exam of the arms is usually only referred to vaguely during routine exams. Most docs don’t deal with the arms unless they pick up subtle clues that are discovered only by trained professionals, like when the patient says “I’m having problem with my arms”. We doctors are proud of our mad skills.
What I am driving at is that the arm exam is a problem-oriented exam. If you have a boo-boo, the doctor looks at it and sees if a kiss will make it better. If a kiss doesn’t work, usually an anti-inflammatory will (but we’ll get to that later). And boo-boo problems with the arm are usually specific to the longitude and latitude on the body. So today we will discuss the shoulder.
The Shoulder
The shoulder is a joint – meaning, it is a place where your body bends. Without joints, your arms would be unwieldy and you’d whack everyone who came near to you. Not only that; it would also make it impossible to put on deodorant. So between whacking people and offending them with your odor, a jointless existence would truly be a hard one. We all should thank our joints more often.
There is not a more complex joint in your body than your shoulder. Here are some amazing facts about the shoulder:
There are three bones that are involved in different types of movement: the collarbone (clavicle), shoulder blade (scapula), and humerus (not humorous).
There are at least 18 muscles that are involved in shoulder movement. Two of them have the word “rhomboid” in them. I like the word “rhomboid.”
When people say the word “shoulder,” they may be referring to the joint, and they could be referring to the top part of their torso – between their neck and shoulder joints. This is a sad testimony to the English language and just serves to make the jobs of medical professional all the harder.
The word “shoulder” rhymes with a lot of of words and so is very useful in poetry. For instance:
You shouldn’t have told her that she’s looking older
She wants you to hold her with arm on her shoulder
And go get the folder that llamas once sold her
But there on the boulder the weather is colder.
A fine Jell-O mould or perhaps something bolder
Has rocked her and rolled her but never controlled her
So anger may smolder at cellular slime mold or
Other thingies, sort of.
See? Pretty amazing, isn’t it? Try doing that with “elbow!” Perhaps Dino could write a haiku about it.
So it should not be seen as a coincidence that the shoulder has by far the largest range of motion of any of the joints in the body. This makes things very confusing for medical students when they have to describe the motion, as the joint doesn’t follow any of the rules the other joints have agreed upon. Most joints can be bent (flexed) and straightened (extended). Some joints (like the wrist) can be hyperextended and rotated as well. All the other joints are content with these motions. Is this good enough for the shoulder? Not even close.
Here are the basic movements of the shoulder:
1. Flexion – moving the arm forward toward the chest.
2. Extension – moving the arm toward your back.
3. Abduction – Being picked up by aliens and brought to their mother ship. (This also refers to lifting your arms up from your sides).
4. Adduction – Bringing your arms down back to your sides
5. Rotation – Turning the arm around the axis of the humerus bone.
I have suggested a few more motions that may be added to the roster:
6. Subflaxion – What you have to do to your shoulder to get your elbow in your ear.
7. Soufflétion – When your shoulder is mixed with eggs and baked at 400 degrees.
8. Mallardduction – When your shoulder gets down.
So far the shoulder committee hasn’t answered my mail. I’m not sure why.
But really, the shoulder is very confusing to many medical professionals. The range of motion is so great that it blurs the lines between the typical movements. For instance, adduction is supposed to be when the limb is moved toward the body’s midline. The shoulder makes this difficult. When you put your arm by your side and when you raise it over your head, you move it toward midline. Both could be considered adduction. The same is true with flexion and extension – when is the shoulder joint opened up and when is it closed?
Really, in this modern time we should give up this archaic nomenclature and instead use a GPS device to determine shoulder position.
Wow. 1000 words already and I haven’t gotten to the actual exam. I’ll give it a rest now and let you ruminate on words that rhyme with “elbow.”
This is the funniest public service announcement I’ve seen in as long as I can remember. Congratulations to the creative communications team at the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons for putting this together!
Back story: I met Sandra Gordon, Director of Public Relations, at the AMA Medical Communications Conference (where I was faculty) and where she presented this video. After the show I approached her to say how surprised many of us were that Orthopaedic Surgery was leading the way in creative PR – and that it was quite unexpected. The PSA had almost a hint of Monty Python humor to it.
She responded with out batting an eye: “Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition!”
I wrote about an interesting podiatric phenomenon last summer: “flip flop foot.” Some people experience cramping between their toes after walking around in flip flops for significant periods of time.
Flip flops seem comfortable and easy to wear (I like them because they don’t pinch wide feet) but they actually create more work for your foot and leg muscles than regular shoes. You may not realize it, but when you wear flip flops your toes must grip them extra firmly to keep them from sliding off or sideways. So you actually contract many extra toe muscles (like the adductor hallucis and the flexor hallucis brevis) with each step you take. Wearing flip flops for long hours can give you actual cramps in these muscles and others.
But here’s another potential danger associated with flip flops: skin cancer! Dr. Benabio over at The Derm Blog rightly points out that we often forget to put sunscreen on our feet (that may not have seen the light of day since last summer). This puts the skin of our feet at risk for blistering sunburns, and in the long term, skin cancer.
So as you enjoy the warmer weather, take good care of your feet. Walking a mile in your own shoes might be better than doing so in your flip flops.This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
I spent my senior year of college abroad in Scotland. Between the fall and spring semesters I went on a ski trip to Austria, and in usual Val fashion did something klutzy out of enthusiasm. I was racing down a slalom course in a snow storm and was so excited to have finished without missing a wicket that I looked up at some bystanders to give them a thumb’s up and I tripped on a clump of snow and fell down. Unfortunately my binding didn’t release and I ripped some ligaments off my knee. I heard them pop too. It was quite gross.
Anyway, I was shipped back to Canada for a complex ACL repair procedure by the Olympic Ski Team’s surgeon (I was NOT Olympic material in case any of you had the slightest doubt – I was just in the right hospital at the right time). What followed my fine surgery was a not so fine follow up – in fact I didn’t get any physical therapy whatsoever, and had no idea about how to make my knee functional again. All I knew is that it hurt like heck and I didn’t want to move it. And I pretty much didn’t. Not for a month or so.
Now the healthcare professionals in the audience just winced at that. Not moving a limb for a month is highly inadvisable. My knee became contracted so that I couldn’t straighten it at all. I could barely bear weight on it and I relied almost solely on crutches. I didn’t know how long knees were supposed to take to heal so I figured everyone went through this crutch phase for months.
I returned to Scotland for my spring semester, and I can tell you that traveling alone with one functional leg, a pair of crutches, winter gear and two suitcases is no piece of cake. But the most memorable part of this whole debacle was when I received my new dorm room assignment: the room was on the 5th floor – no elevators. I pleaded with the dorm warden (a humorless, underweight Scottish man with extraordinarily greasy hair and snaggle teeth) to have pity on me and reassign me to a room on the first floor or maybe the second. He handed me the 5th floor room keys unflinchingly.
So it took me about an hour to drag myself and all my stuff up to the 5th floor. I was really in a lot of pain, and totally exhausted from the multi-stop flight overseas – hadn’t slept in about 36 hours. Of course the room was the last one at the end of the hall and no other students had checked in yet – the whole place was deserted because I’d come back early to see if I could get a more conveniently located room (thinking ahead).
When I got to my room I was nearly overwhelmed by the smell of vomit. Apparently the winter session kids had been using my dorm room for drunken partying and had puked on the mattress. I was so tired all I wanted to do was go to sleep but the options were the cement floor or the pukey mattress so I called down to the front desk. The warden picked up – I really couldn’t understand much of what he said in his thick brogue. I explained to him that I’d made it to my room but that the mattress was covered in vomit and I wondered if (now) I might be eligible for a different room. He said he’d come up to check on the mattress.
It took him about 40 minutes to show up. He made no eye contact with me as I limped after him into the room to show him the vomit. He looked at the mattress, smiled wryly, dragged it to the edge of the bed frame and flipped it over. Then he walked out of the room and went back down the stairs to retake his post at the front desk at the entrance to the building.
Now that’s cold.This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
I’ve been presenting cases of important diagnoses made simply by physical exam. A ganglion cyst, a foot ulcer, and a dissecting abdominal aortic aneurysm were all correctly identified with a basic physical exam. However, there are times when a physical exam may not be enough – and reliance on it alone can be quite misleading.
A middle aged man was referred to our sports rehabilitation clinic after undergoing an unsuccessful orthopedic surgical procedure. He had been lifting heavy weights at his gym for some time, and was complaining of weakness in his right arm. He eventually got an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon, who noted that his right biceps muscle was severely reduced in its bulk. Assuming he had ruptured his biceps tendon, he was scheduled for repair the next week.
The surgeon was baffled after opening the arm and exploring the anatomy – the biceps tendons were both perfectly in tact, though the muscle was indeed quite atrophic.
What he didn’t realize was that the man had not ruptured his tendon, but had severely impinged his musculocutaneous nerve where it travels through the coracobrachialis muscle. The heavy weight lifting had caused his coracobrachialis muscle to hypertrophy to a point where the nerve supplying the biceps muscle was actually crushed by the size of the muscle.
The man slowly regained nerve function and was fine so long as he didn’t lift heavy weights again. The only long term side effect that he suffered was a surgical scar on the inner side of his right arm.This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.
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So you see, through my hard work and persistence (writing almost 30,000 words about the physical exam so far), I have come nowhere near any of these goals. In fact, I have made absolutely no progress toward world peace. I think I’ve been banned in Iran for using the word “Shuttlecraft” too many times.
The shoulder is a joint – meaning, it is a place where your body bends. Without joints, your arms would be unwieldy and you’d whack everyone who came near to you. Not only that; it would also make it impossible to put on deodorant. So between whacking people and offending them with your odor, a jointless existence would truly be a hard one. We all should thank our joints more often.
