So it was that last weekend my left hip felt a little sore, the kind of sore that women with 45 year-old hips might expect from life. Years ago, a doctor had suggested that the soreness was likely bursitis.
When I felt the soreness this time around, I took note. Then I concluded it wasn't sore enough for me to skip my regular trips to the gym. So I ran my usual 5 miles on Saturday. And I did that again on Sunday. I took Monday off. On Tuesday afternoon, when my hip ached in a more insistent fashion, I ordered the hip to quit complaining and I headed off to the gym. Wednesday, when the hip grumbled even more, I ignored it and ran like the wind on my favorite elliptical. To be fair, while I was on the elliptical my hip felt great. It was only when I stopped running that the discomfort returned.
When I felt the soreness this time around, I took note. Then I concluded it wasn't sore enough for me to skip my regular trips to the gym. So I ran my usual 5 miles on Saturday. And I did that again on Sunday. I took Monday off. On Tuesday afternoon, when my hip ached in a more insistent fashion, I ordered the hip to quit complaining and I headed off to the gym. Wednesday, when the hip grumbled even more, I ignored it and ran like the wind on my favorite elliptical. To be fair, while I was on the elliptical my hip felt great. It was only when I stopped running that the discomfort returned.
Thursday morning found me distinctly uncomfortable, with a sore left hip that no longer ached only when I walked upstairs. Now it hurt when I walked at all. When I tried to raise my leg to put on my tights that morning, I thought I might pass out the pain was so great. Trying to get up a hill was excruciating. Hmmm, I thought again. Better make a doctor's appointment for next week and take it easy today.
T had been making that suggestion since Tuesday and so she gave me the thumbs up when I planned to take it easy on Thursday. That "taking it easy" in my world entailed an afternoon of changing the sheets on two beds, washing and folding a couple loads of laundry, cleaning both bathrooms and making biscuits to go with the evening's supper may reflect a certain personality disorder on my part.
Thursday evening the pain in the hip made it impossible to find a comfortable position. Walking hurt. Standing hurt. Sitting? Painful. When I finally fell into bed (a challenge because my bed is high off the floor), I couldn't find a comfortable way to sleep. In fact, my hip hurt so much that I couldn't even roll over. In the middle of the night, I hobbled to the bathroom and downed a truckload of ibuprofen.
Friday morning was rough, but I slowly crept to work (and my second floor classroom), called the doctor and kept up the ibuprofen. After a miserable day of extreme discomfort, that afternoon I went to the doctor. The pain I described alarmed her enough to fear that I had burst a bursa. She ran a blood test to check for infection and then she threw in an X-ray to ensure that I hadn't fractured a bone. Nothing burst or broken, I limped out the office with a serious anti-inflammatory prescription and orders to take it easy for the next 10 days. No elliptical, no biking, no strenuous workouts, she ordered.
I did so this weekend, likely because of T's help around the house as well as the fright I experienced on Friday. The realization that I could barely walk, let alone walk up and down the stairs in my multi-story home with laundry facilities in the basement and a closet and playroom in the attic, was unsettling. Add to that my second-story classroom in a building with no elevator and a job that demands the ability to be physically engaged and I was sufficiently scared this time around.
It is to be hoped that at the ripe old age of 45 I can heed this advice for more than a weekend.
1 comment:
Do take care of yourself.
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