But I couldn't. There I was, properly belted in place, unable to get free because the buckle on the seat belt is on the left side, and my left arm is temporarily useless -- stuck in a bulky padded sling. That means I can't buckle the seat belt without help -- and I'm stuck in place until someone sets me free.

The sling is a recent addition to my wardrobe, acquired the day before Christmas as the result of rotator-cuff surgery on my left shoulder. If things go as I expect, I'll graduate from the big sling, designed to keep my arm fixed about six inches off my chest, in about two weeks. Then, I'll be in a smaller sling for awhile.

I wish I could claim the surgery was to correct an old war wound or a lingering football injury. There's something macho about that.

Macho, but untrue.

The reality is that the rotator cuff tendon was torn and weakened by age and by being continually scraped against a bone spur. The surgeon, Anthony Mancini, removed the bone spur, cleaned out a lot of inflammation and arthritis, sewed up the tear and turned me over to physical therapy.

I'm trying to be a good patient, doing the exercises as directed.

In the meantime, I have little use of my left arm. I can type -- if I keep the computer keyboard in my lap -- and I can carry very small things -- the doctor said a coffee cup is OK -- in my left hand. But nothing more, and no lifting my arm.

That limits my activities -- a lot.

Getting dressed is an adventure. I can pull on my pants but getting into a shirt requires assistance. Think about getting an immobile left arm through a sleeve. Trust me, it's not easy. Same with sweaters. Socks are nearly impossible. I can struggle into them -- one handed -- but it takes forever. Like a 3-year-old, I need help. (Three-year-olds have mommy; I have my wife.) I wear loafers or moccasins much of the time, but if I want tennis shoes, my wife ties those, too.

Buttoning pants is beyond me. You try pulling your trousers together with one hand -- and then figure out how to find a third hand to fix the button! That led to an embarrassing moment at a restaurant where, after a visit to the men's room, I realized that I unless I could get help, I'd be a bit overexposed as I returned to the table. Solution: I pulled my sweater very low to cover what needed covering and arranged to get my wife's attention. She came to the rescue, saving me embarrassment, maybe even arrest.

Eating has changed since surgery. I can't hold both a knife and a fork -- that takes two hands -- so meals can't include anything that requires cutting. We prepared for this by filling the freezer with stews, chili, pasta and other things that can be eaten with a spoon.

I'm teaching a course at Colby College this month. The sling has caused no problems with that, but grading papers has been a chore. It's not easy to make comments on student papers. I've managed -- but I'm not sure the students have been able to read everything I've written.

Of course, I am not the only person to have had this kind of surgery, but until now I had not realized how common it is. Everywhere we go, I seem to find other people wearing the bulky sling that is a trademark of early recovery. We stop and chat with each other. It's an unusual fraternity that, I'm sure, all of us wishes to leave as soon as possible.

That means we all do the required exercises to regain flexibility and then to recover lost strength. The exercises hurt -- I call them my torture -- but they are working. Slowly, carefully my wife lifts my arm. At first I could tolerate only a 45-degree lift before the pain was too great. Now she can lift the arm more than 135 degrees. Progress makes the torture worthwhile.

I came home from the operation with a big blue jug called a Cryo/Cuff Cooler that my wife fills with ice water. A hose links the cooler to a pad that fits around my shoulder and fills with icy water when the jug is lifted over shoulder height. It works wonders -- especially after the exercises leave me sore.

I don't recommend surgery of any kind as the most fun way to end one year or start another, but it could be a lot worse -- and I'm making steady progress. Got to stop writing now. It's time for another torture session, and then 30 minutes with my pal, Cryo.

David B. Offer is the retired executive editor of the Kennebec Journal and the Morning Sentinel. E-mail davidboffer@hotmail.com.