Dear Right Arm

Dear Right Arm,

I think it's time to I own up to my mistakes regarding your care, and formally apologize. I am truly sorry for the stress I've put you through over the last decade, and I want you to know how grateful I am for your work.

It is not easy being the right arm of a trombonist. I have so selfishly put you through years of erratic and repetitive movement. Elbow Joint is left constantly aching and Ulna silently bares all the weight while enduring improvisational Hell. I am too busy following my sheet music and trying to ignore Left Arm crying out in boredom to realize I'm squeezing Right Hand to its breaking point. I've already had to brave you aa couple of times. You probably ask yourself every day "how did I get so lucky to be with a jazz musician? " The typical starts and stops have puts dozens, if not hundreds of pounds of force on you. And yet, you are still there for me every time, from the dullest scale practices to the most vigorous passages.

The teachers we've talked to had nothing but kind words for you as well, and the doctors we've been to have scolded me for not treating you better. I promise I will start actively considering your wellbeing from this point on. I'll have Left Arm start carrying the trombone case from now on. I'll stretch longer before playing. Hell, I may even take up classical music; you'll get a lot of rest there.

So again, I apologize for years of trombone treachery. Stay strong, you are my money maker after all (no pressure).

With love,

The Rest of the Body

P.S. Tell Genitalia you're on vacation for a while.