The unknown is also what I face as I go in on Tuesday, Sept. 4th to have surgery on my hip. (See how I did that? Just like a college paper.) I have not had many surgeries in my life, being a pretty healthy and fit human. So this is big for me and more than just a little disconcerting. I am not a person that likes to slow down and being forced to do so is like cutting off a limb, which is essentially what will be happening. Thankfully it is temporary and no one will be eating it. (Long story.)
A bit of background about what is "wrong" with me: I have a torn labrum in my right hip. Yes, labrum looks like the word labia but thankfully one has nothing to do with the other except that they are located in the same general...anyway. The labrum is a type of cartilage that lines the hip socket so that your femur doesn't rub directly on it, which would cause lots of pain and unhappiness. You also have a labrum in your shoulder--see how that works boys and girls. Also, once torn, the labrum is unable to repair itself. It has been described to me like stretching Saran Wrap. It stretches apart until it tears, but can't go back together on its own.
How does one tear their sacred labrum, you might ask? Well, lots of things can cause it. A fall, activities on uneven ground, or years of wear and tear and then it just...comes apart. I'm actually not sure exactly how it all happened in my case, but during the run of The Importance of Being Earnest this winter in Arvada, I suddenly had what felt like a groin pull, but farther over in hip area. It sucked. It felt like a deep, deep muscle pull that couldn't be reached for relief and at the same time like my hip had come out of it's socket and wouldn't pop back in. This luckily wasn't the case, but if felt awful. After going through all the boring medical stuff like chiro, x-ray, MRI (which is an experience in it's own right. Two words: machine gun) and a surgical consult, I found out about the tear. And also that I have a bump on the head of my femur, which is common to have but makes you more prone to this type of injury especially if you are active. What they will do is make three small incisions, go in with a camera, shave off the excess bone, clean up and repair the labrum and get out. Very simple.
Okay, enough with the boring shit. The difficult part for me mentally is that this will completely change the way I move about the world for many, many weeks. Rehab is a 6 month process and in that time I cannot run at ALL, which sucks because running has been my mental and physical salvation for over 15 years. I have to wear a hip brace for several weeks that severely limits my movement. I have to ice it continuously for several days. I have to use a CPM (continual passive movement) machine for 4-6 hours a day that moves my hip around so scar tissue doesn't develop. I will have to be on crutches for 2-3 weeks, depending on the extent of the surgery and how much weight I can bear on it initially. See, they don't really know exactly how bad it is and what they have to do until they go in there, and for some reason, this makes me very depressed. I'd like to think I'm an open-minded person and ready for anything. But when it comes to not being able to drive, sleep on my right side, stand up in the shower and being a general helpless invalid, me no likey. In fact, me Hatey!
And I've heard it all from everyone. "Take this time to slow down, you'll be so glad you did it, let yourself heal, it's for the best." And RJ's personal favorite: "rub some dirt on it, you big baby." Yes. It's true. All of it is true. It'll be great in the long run. I'm lucky to have insurance and the time to do it and I'm in a first world country with all this available to me. It will force me to think differently. Work out in a different way! New pathways will be formed in my brain!! I may actually get smarter by doing this!!!
But yet it makes me sad. I like my independence. I'm an only child for chrissake! But maybe what it really is...is that I don't like asking for help. It makes me feel weak or not good enough. And I realize too, in this very moment even, that as my grandparents move OUT of the house they've lived in for almost 50 years and into assisted living because they are 90 years old and becoming more and more physically unable to care for themselves and each other, that this must be what getting older feels like and it's fucking inevitable.
Okay, who's feelin' great now?! Woooooohooo! Jesus, I'm boring myself with this ennui. But man, do I love the word ennui and what it represents. It's so...french-sexy. And honestly, getting this stuff out into the ether makes me feel better. So, Dear Reader, (if there's anyone left) as the French say, you must just fucking deal with it. And thank you for listening. There will be much more to come. And perhaps I'll blog while on oxycodone. Now THAT could be entertaining.
And now, I leave you with a combination of some of my favorite things, new and old. Cats, humor and ennui. I present, Henri:
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