Thought this was ovah!

So it looks like it was 3 years ago now.  February 2013.  That’s when I saw Dr. Trousdale at Mayo Clinic in Minnesota.  And he told me that my hip angles were such that I could get away with merely an arthroscopy (scope) in the left hip.

I rejoiced, as it were.  My dad drove the 4 hours home and I texted everyone and their sister about the good news.  No PAO for me!  Woot!

I did not ultimately go through with the scope.  The pain actually got better for awhile.  It came back about 7 months ago, and has been relentless.  Re-started the process.  X-ray.  MRI.  Orthopedist.  Referral back to Trousdale.

This time he thinks I should have it done.  The PAO.

I discovered that the anxiety and fear are also part of the process again, unfortunately.  Currently I find myself re-anxious and re-scared.  The sense of relief is long gone, although I did manage to enjoy it while it lasted.

“Make your decision when the pain interferes with life and you can’t tolerate it anymore.”

How do I know when that is?  There must be someone out there who can decide that for me…

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Here We Go. I Think.

I’m no longer a runner and won’t be, not ever ever again.

And if you know me well (or maybe not even very well), you know how heavy this news is; how difficult to absorb.  I wonder a lot about how long runners’ rage will stay with me – that overwhelming feeling of wanting to drive over any runner I see out on the bike path.  Of wanting to trip women in winter running tights coasting through campus, feeling snowflakes falling onto their chilled, rosy-red cheeks.  Of being unable to breathe for a few seconds (minutes?  A lifetime?) when I realize it’s sunny outside and I can’t go run.  Oh, and just releasing some of that stress………..eek.

So yeah.  It’s not a brain tumor.  And I would NEVER make light of that; it’s something a friend said to me in an effort to put some of this in perspective.

This blog is about my journey – emotional, mental and physical – through hip pain and surgery and all that badass shit that goes along with it.  I’ll try to keep the f-bombs at a minimum (What, what??  No I won’t!).

Periacetabular osteotomy.  Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, especially the first time you say it.  But as you try it out a few times, saying it quietly to yourself on your way home from the orthopedist’s office, it gets a little easier to say.  And perhaps that’s the first step.  First of many en route to accepting this new me.

I’m a little hesitant about blogging – partly because I am a very, very rusty writer – after obtaining a minor in creative writing a zillion years ago, I suppose I figured that this skill would just stay with me forever.  Alas, it needs constant attention or it withers.  AND because I don’t have just one style of writing.  AND because I’m not so great at sharing my feelings.  But fuck, I can be sarcastic as anyone you’ve ever known.  And sometimes funny as shit.

So maybe there’ll be something worth writing about.  We shall see.