Panic. Denial. Then…?
My pain isn’t constant. Nor is it debilitating.
Vocabulary.com gives a rather rambling and conversational definition of the term ‘debilitating’: “Something that…seriously affects someone or something’s strength or ability to carry on with regular activities, like a debilitating illness.”
I no longer run. When salt is needed for the water softener, I hesitate because the bags weigh 60lbs apiece. Occasionally I utilize the handicap parking tag my doctor suggested a few years ago (“I signed the application for the permanent card. Hip dysplasia doesn’t get better…”). At work I often stand at my desk because sitting for any period of time makes my hips ache.
So maybe it IS debilitating.
Our brains do sneaky things to us when we aren’t paying attention. It tells me that I would go for a run if only the wind chill weren’t -10F this week! But lately its favorite thing to do is to tell me that the pain isn’t all that bad. As in, definitely not bad enough to warrant breaking my pelvis in a few places and re-aligning it with the help of long screws.
When I scheduled my PAO for May 18th, my brain spent the first two weeks panicking. Now it’s shifted into denial mode. Anxiously awaiting the next step in this emotional process…