Caught Red Handed

I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night with a throbbing pain in my left hand. I call this malady “cane hand.” Even though the cane handle is padded, there has to be some trauma to my hand due to repetitive use. My guess is this is a pretty common problem. My palm hurts, and my fingers are a bit stiff.

Although my right hip is worse than my left, I sometimes switch the cane to my right hand. Might as well get used to that since at some point I’ll have the left hip done. I am left handed, so I am decidedly more comfortable using the cane with my left hand. Need more practice with the right.

I had an interesting meeting at work yesterday morning. I walked into the conference room where a co-worker and a vendor representative were already meeting. The first thing the vendor representative said was, “you have a cane already!”

“Already?” What did he mean? This man had never met me before in his life. Was it too early in the day for a cane? (“No canes before 11:00 AM!”) Was it too early in the year for a cane? (“No white canes before Memorial Day!”) I am not savvy about the cane timing rules. Perhaps it had something to do with Daylight Savings Time.

Better Living Through Chemistry

Molly, me and Larry -- the photo is relevant because I know Larry will get a kick out of this post, and I love the pic!

A very well-meaning volunteer at a competition I recently judged thought he was doing me a favor when he suggested that I should contact his friend, a chiropractor who has "studied physics," who could fix my hip problem by changing the energy fields and the chemistry in my body. He approached me at a time when I had just lugged my bags several miles (or so it seemed) across a smoky Las Vegas casino, and I was tired and crabby and not really in the mood for advice, so I'll admit I wasn’t the most tactful in my replies. But really … give it up, already:

He: You should really contact ****, he can fix you right up. He has this amazing energy field program, which can correct almost anything that is wrong with you. The website is ...
Me: (with a tired smile) Surgery is the only thing that can correct my problem, but thank you for your recommendation.
He: Oh no, you don’t need surgery, you really need the energy in your body re-balanced. It’s physics …
Me: Look, I know you’re trying to help, but do you even know what’s wrong with me?
He: Well ...
Me: I have hip dysplasia. Do you know what that is?
He: Yes!
(And I’m thinking to myself no, you don’t, but you’re so convinced that your friend can help me that you don’t even care to find out what it is.)
Me: I have a structural imbalance – a mechanical problem. No amount of chemical changes to my body will correct it.
He: (interrupting) But the chemical changes will get rid of your pain!
Me: No, they won’t. You are wrong. I’ve done months and months of research. This problem is not caused by a chemical imbalance.
He: (Shaking his head at my stupidity) Well, if you change your mind, let me know and I’ll give you the contact information …
Me: (Frostily) Thank you.

He didn’t make eye contact with me for the rest of the competition. Clearly he thought he was right and that I was a fool, because how could I ignore the obvious scientific evidence? Now I’m all for alternative medicine, and I don’t want to have surgery if I can help it. But I know there is no alternative. I am getting tired of helpful people who think they know what's best for me.

This includes the person who told me that her hip problem "went away" after awhile and she was sure mine would too. (What are people thinking? That nobody has a real medical problem, and all problems can disappear if you simply have a positive attitude? Not on my planet, honey.)

This also includes the person who implied, without even knowing the nature of my problem, that if I got in better shape I wouldn't need to take the elevator instead of the stairs. Right, if only I worked out more, I wouldn't need this darn cane! What do I look like, an idiot? And hey, I'm still in pretty good shape compared to the general populace.

Ah, then there was my return trip. There I was, minding my own business in the airport security line, when the TSA agent grabbed me and said I had to go into the "Express Lane." Now that was all well and fine with me since it saved me about 10 minutes of standing in line, but it was what she said next that got to me: "You'll just hold up the line and slow everyone down." Let's be real here. Not even OJ is running through airports any more. The line was crawling. I was keeping up just fine, and I wasn't carrying very much. There is no way that I was going to slow everyone down. Being an opportunist though, I suffered the insult and jumped to the front of the line. There has to be some benefit to being disabled.

Finally, as I was waiting to get off the plane at home, I noticed that the man in front of me had taken my cane down from the overhead compartment and was offering it to the sweet little old lady in front of him. She stared at him, obviously wondering why he was brandishing this cane at her. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "can I have that please?" He looked at me with a frown, because I was obviously trying to interrupt his good deed for the day, and turned back to her. I tapped again. "That's mine," I said, pointing. This just did not compute for him. "The cane ... it's mine." Finally, with a sheepish look on his face, he handed it over to me. And away I went.

Postscript:

I did a little bit of surfing through the energy field websites today. Clearly I had a lot to learn. Now that I'm more educated, I can cancel my surgery (bold and italics added by me):

"1st The Base or Root Chakra – Colour is Red: It is created at conception and located at the base of the spine. It represents activity in general, such as movement, energy and survival as well as grounding. It connects with the base of the spine and also connects the liver and is associated with most illness. Red is also associated with pain, swelling and inflammation and all heat sensations. When this Chakra is working correctly, we have physical vitality and strength. We feel connected to nature with a deep understanding of nature’s rhythms and patterns.

When disturbed it affects the liver and all adrenal problems. Most major middle and upper back, hip and stability problems are caused by disturbances of the Base Chakra. Long term disturbances can cause chronic back and hip problems."

Glad I know this. I feel better already.

Welcome to VEGAS, bay-beeeeeeeee!!!

In May, Perry is making the annual trek to Vegas for the International Council of Shopping Centers Convention. (This is far superior to the annual trek he used to make with his prior employer to "World Of Concrete." Trust me, the shopping center people give much better trade show swag than the concrete people.)

I am accompanying him since the date coincides with our anniversary, and we're staying in a really nice hotel. We're also going all out with the shows - I'm talking Cher, "O", and Tom Jones. (Go ahead, scoff if you must, but I know you're all jealous. It's Vegas!)

We'll be eating in some fantabulous dining establishments (and I don't mean the all-you-can-eat buffets). Plus I love the desert sun, and while I'm not a gambler, I might try to recoup some of what I've lost in my 401(k) at the nickel slots while Perry is at the trade show.

When I signed up to go to Vegas I was looking forward to a good time. But by May, walking may be something I do only in one-minute increments. I've already gotten to the point where I call in to meetings that happen in the building across the street. Since Perry does most of the grocery shopping I have not yet had the supermarket scooter experience, but I'm sure it's in my near future. I never leave home without a cane.

So you'd think it would be no big deal to see the e-mail confirmation from our hotel:

"Dear Mr. Levine,
Your wife's wheelchair will be ready on (date) ..."

Ouch. That's how I feel about cruising the strip with the top down ... in my shiny geriatric chair. That's right, me and all the other "mature" ladies who hang out in Vegas, although I have a feeling most of them are going to be more mobile than I will be. And suddenly this is not sounding like such a fun vacation any more.

Although I do think I am eligible for priority seating at the Tom Jones show.

More gear

You'd think I was having surgery tomorrow by the way I am stocking up. This is what happens when you combine strong project management skills, a controlling personality, and after-Christmas sales. It's just too much for me to resist.

So over the weekend I bought a few things, including a teakwood shower stool for the inevitable seated showers, some non-slip socks, a new duvet cover (I will be spending a lot of time in bed, come on), and some posh new jammies (for all that time lounging in bed).

The shower stool is from Smith & Hawken and it's a nice looking addition to our newly-renovated master bathroom, if I do say so myself. I looked at all the plastic and metal versions and just couldn't stomach the thought of spending approximately the same amount of money for something that is so butt ugly. I've heard that I should get a shower chair with a back, and mine doesn't have one, but I can lean against the shower wall. OK, probably not the most practical and I may regret it, but I promise to get a proper plastic raised toilet seat when the time comes. I don't think Smith & Hawken makes one anyway.

I guess I should try the shower stool out, but how will I simulate the experience of being post-PAO? I can't get my hands on narcotics without breaking the law, but I suppose I can get rip roaring drunk on New Year's eve, immobilize my leg somehow, and see how it goes. I could probably sell tickets as well - standing room only! I can fit about 6 people around my glass-walled shower stall. Tickets will be expensive because I am trying to finance two surgeries; stay tuned for details.

Meanwhile, another hip chick has posted this fab link on her site:

http://www.fashionablecanes.com

While I have yet to purchase anything I am very tempted. This site is also a good resource on how to correctly size a cane and how to walk with one for those who are new to this hip thing. Yes, it's sad that we young dysplastics all eventually become such experts in geriatric devices like shower chairs, raised toilet seats, walkers and canes.

In fact, I have noticed that most adult-aged diagnoses occur either in the 29/30 age range (how many blogs have I read where people were just about to turn 30 either on their diagnosis day or right before or after surgery?) or, for us late bloomers, at 45. I haven't read any blogs that talk about a diagnosis at age 37 or age 41. It always seems to be 29/30 or 45. Interesting.

(I'm sure I am going to get a bunch of comments from those diagnosed at 26-and-a-half, and 48, and 39 ... I know you're out there as this was not a scientific study, just my recollection after reading a lot of blogs and posts on the Yahoo list. I'm just saying.)

Lost in PDX

Here are the highlights of my trip to Lake Placid:

~The rubber tip of my cane fell off on the first leg of my flight, and by the time I figured it out it was too late to go back and get it as I was "running" (those of you pre-PAO know that "running" is the euphemism for "hobbling a bit faster than usual") through the Atlanta airport, trying to make my next flight. Atlanta - now that's one big airport, especially if one is hobbling.
~Traveler's "Tip": Always carry a spare tip. Wooden cane without rubber tip on marble floor does not make for a stable walking aid! In fact, it's rather useless and just served to get caught in my coat and backpack.
~When I arrive in Lake Placid I have to explain to everyone who hasn't seen me yet what the cane's all about. Helpful yet annoying acquaintence tells me my upcoming hip surgery will be a piece of cake. "A friend of mine had both of hers done at once and was back in action a couple of weeks later." A few repetitions of, "I'm not having them replaced" did not get through ... I finally resorted to the tried and true, "they are breaking my pelvis in 3 places" ... Blank look ensued. I smiled and went to get some hot chocolate.
~I am told by everyone that the hotel is a "short walk" from the rink. This "short walk" is downhill on snow and ice and I have a cane that is broken. The able-bodied judges, some twice my age, walk to the rink while I wait for the shuttle. Alone. Pathetic. Feeling sorry for myself.
~Shuttle passes the others, who look mighty cold out there. I smile smugly from the warm heated shuttle seat. Perhaps there is a silver lining after all.
~My husband calls from home to tell me that my handicapped parking papers have arrived in the mail. Yee haw, I will be able to go to the mall before the holidays!
~On Sunday I am scheduled to leave on the 5:15 AM shuttle for the two hour ride from Lake Placid to Albany to catch my 12:45 flight out. Um, OK, I guess sleep is overrated after all. The later shuttles all appear to be full so I half-heartedly set my alarm for 4:15 AM.
~I'm on the shuttle on time. It's one of those big tour buses. Thankfully there is a bathroom. However, the heater appears to be broken. I attempt sleep in a half frozen state and eventually give up and listen to the guy behind me snore. The scenery in the Adirondacks is beautiful, but this early in the morning it's too dark to see much.
~I am in first class on my flight and finally able to sleep after a couple of Baileys!
~I arrive in Portland to the rare winter storm which has shut down the city. After traveling all day, all the way across the continent, I am halted within 20 miles of my home and have to spend the night in an airport hotel room. The lesson learned - always pack an extra pair of underwear just in case you are stranded for an additional night. Thankfully I learned this lesson on a previous trip and I was well prepared.
~Screaming children run up and down the hotel hallways into the wee hours. The people in the room above me appear to weigh a lot and walk around the room dragging tree trunks or dead bodies, and/or jump on and off the bed, until midnight. Is this my destiny? Do these loud hotel people follow me around every time I travel somewhere? I swear I am not making this up.
~The next day dawns bright and early. My office is closed due to weather, which means I can spend most of the day getting from the airport to my house. I take the hotel shuttle to the airport, take the parking shuttle to my car, drive my car downtown and park it at work, wait for the bus for an hour and a half (temperature = 18 degrees, but note that it's really zero degrees with wind chill). I know my car won't make it up the ice covered hill to my house without chains, and the last time I left a car at the bottom of the hill and walked up, someone smashed into it. Thus I am leaving the car in the lot downtown. I would rather bus it and walk than deal with that hassle again.
~Buses are on "snow routes," which means they come sometimes, maybe, on occasion. I ride bus 51 which shares a stop with bus 15. Within 10 minutes, four (FOUR) #15 buses come and go. None carries more than a few people. Where is the 51? Can't someone simply reverse the damn digits and give me a 51 bus? I'm freakin' freezing out here! And hey, I have to pee, but I am not going to do that because if I do I know the bus will come while I'm in there.
~The 51 finally comes (I've been standing outside waiting for over an hour and oh by the way, I walked 10 blocks to the bus stop) (and 10 blocks may not sound like much to those of you with normal hips but for me it is about 9 too many), and today the bus is on "alternate route" status which means it goes everywhere it would on a normal day, except near my house, and so I realize it is going to drop me half a mile from my house vs. a few blocks away. I get on the damn bus anyway because what else am I going to do?
~I realize that I am not supposed to walk, much less on ice in subzero temperatures, for half a mile. Oops. Oh yeah, I'm disabled. Forgot about that. And did I mention I never had time to get the cane fixed? It's going to be pretty useless.
~Bus drops me off, I walk the half mile (very slowly) ... the standing in the cold waiting for the bus made my hips hurt, but the walking on ice is making them REALLY hurt. I am almost home, but then ...
~I live on a narrow winding steep two-way road which is only about one car width wide. We call it the Goat Trail. I realize I may have to slide on my butt down the iced over goat trail to get home. Luckily I am able to remain vertical, but it takes a very long time to negotiate the icy slope.
~I arrive home to a roaring fire and needless to say, run for the bathroom. It takes about 2 hours to thaw out.
~Next trip: Cleveland in January, oh joy. Another icy cold adventure awaits, but at least I know I'm up to the challenge.
~There's no place like home!

P.S. - I would like to write about my ongoing adventures with that marvel of modern machinery, the automatically flushing toilet, which is available in fine airports all across America, but that will have to wait for another day. It's a topic I've wanted to write about for a long, long time, so stay tuned. It's bound to be a very special post, and just in time for the holidays.

Hip Travels

I just realized that I'm going out of town next week by myself. On an airplane. To a place with lots of snow.

Yikes!

I hadn't even really thought about it since in the past I've traveled a lot on my own. But now I realize that I'm going all the way from west coast to east coast with a layover in the middle, then catching a shuttle for a two-hour ride to my destination in Lake Placid. All with luggage. Lots of luggage. We're talking big huge down coat, snow boots, hats, etc.

It didn't even occur to me when I booked this flight that I might have to walk a long way from my arrival gate to my departure gate during the layover. That has never been an issue before, but now it is. Should I get wheelchair assistance? OMG, I can't even go there yet. Maybe I can ride on one of those motorized vehicles. When I get to Albany, how will I negotiate my luggage by myself? My last trip (first with cane) included Perry to help me; this time I'm flying solo.

Lake Placid is a winter wonderland in December. I sure hope that they are providing door-to-door service from hotel to rink because I don't want to walk in all that wonderland. I can't believe I'm actually saying that! I can't believe I'm afraid of falling down in the snow and ice but I am, more from the perspective of embarrassment than possible further hip damage. After all, I skate and I'm not afraid to fall at the rink. But who wants to see a lady with a cane fall down? Who wants to be known as the lady with a cane who fell down? Worse yet, who wants to be known as THE JUDGE WITH A CANE WHO FELL DOWN? I get a headache just thinking about that. The skaters already think we are too old and decrepit as it is.

I am sure I'll do fine. I'm just realizing though how much more difficult life has become, and how much I used to take for granted.

P.S. - I know those of you who have traveled home by airplane after being discharged from the hospital post PAO surgery are laughing out loud and thinking, "Ha, you ain't seen nothin' yet honey!"

Back from the desert

I am back from judging the Pacific Coast Sectional Figure Skating Championships in sunny warm Scottsdale, Arizona. It was a good test of my pain levels, doing things that really should hurt. I sat for long periods of time in an uncomfortable seat at ice level which, obviously, means it was cold. I had to stand a few times to give critiques. I carried stuff. I slept in a hotel room bed that was not even remotely comfortable in any position.

Then at night Perry and I did some walking outside where it was warm. After all of that I would have expected a lot of pain, but I didn't really have much. I even went without the cane on the last day when we went walking around Tempe. I'm not sure why I felt so good but I suspect, sadly, that it's because I haven't skated in over a week due to a combination of a bad cold and being out of town. I guess I have to admit that skating is not good for me, even though it doesn't hurt much while I'm doing it ... the residual effect is what keeps me up at night in pain.

Well, being stubborn, I'm still not ready to let it go. I even have some goals for myself. I passed my Silver Samba in October, the first international dance for me. I'd like to pass the Cha Cha Congelado and perhaps the Rhumba before surgery next summer. The Rhumba is so much harder for me than for normal people. With legs that turn in, it's almost impossible to force those choctaws. I can do it but it's not pretty.

I'm starting to worry about all of the reports from post-PAO gals that their operated leg is still "gimpy" and their quadriceps (which are "moved" during surgery ... I don't know if that means "cut" or not, but I suspect so) are never the same after. I can't imagine skating on two gimpy legs when this is all over. It just won't work. I have huge quads and use them for almost everything I do on the ice, so it worries me to think they are going to be cut or moved or whatever and maybe never come back. On the other hand, the post-PAO ladies who seemed to be in better shape before their surgeries tend to do better and I'm hoping to be one of those. Plus I know what it means to work hard in the gym and not give up on my gimpy-ness.

Testing 3 international dances before I go under the knife will make me very happy. If I'm unable to skate at all post-surgery, I can always point to those tests and say that I used to be an ice dancer.

The Cane on the Plane

Ode to my walking stick, with thanks to Dr. Seuss

I like my cane
It’s very plain
It helps me walk
Avoiding pain.

My cane, my cane
Sometimes a pain
Rules out umbrellas
In the rain.

A lovely cane
It’s wood, nice grain
Tonight I’ll take it
On a plane.


I live in the Pacific Northwest. Granted, it doesn’t rain as much as we lead people to believe – some of that is hyberbole and meant to keep the rest of you from moving to our little slice of paradise. But for the past couple of weeks it has been pouring.

With the cane in my left hand and my backback on my back, I could in theory carry an umbrella. But usually I have a latte or a water bottle in my right hand, or something that doesn’t fit in the backpack which I’m carrying to a meeting across the street. Normally this is OK with me so I haven't been carrying an umbrella to work. However, last night I went to the salon, where they styled my normally curly/frizzy hair. If I keep it dry this style lasts a couple of days. Without an umbrella I’m doomed.

I pulled my jacket (no hood! Damn!) over my head and “ran for it” (meaning hobbled a bit faster) and made it with very little damage to my head. The return trip was equally difficult and the rain was coming down harder. Now I’m watching the frizz start to pop out everywhere on my head despite the seemingly hours-long blow dry session last night.

Luckily this won’t be a problem in Scottsdale where it’s warm and dry. We leave tonight and I’ll get to see how amenable TSA is to walking gear, which in theory could be used as a weapon. Stay tuned for a full report.

Raising Cane

I am not a very gracious disabled person.

Lately people have been opening doors for me, trying to pick things up for me when I drop them (especially the cane, which falls over all the time in meetings), and moving out of my way as if I’m ten feet wide and may topple over at any minute.

I keep saying thank you for these niceties but in reality I am not expecting people to do things for me and so it’s currently more annoying than helpful. I sound so ungrateful, but give me a break; I’m new at being disabled. And I don’t really feel very disabled most of the time. Yesterday I bent down to pick up the dropped cane and almost bumped heads with the stranger who rushed to get it for me.

I don’t think of letting people help me; it doesn’t cross my mind. In order to not be perceived as a total bitch (Watch out! Bitch With A Cane coming through!) I have to stand there with a smile on my face while people fumble to hold the door for me, even though they are carrying packages and coffee and I could have done it faster and more easily myself and held it for them as well. But why fight with them about it?

This morning at the coffee shop a rather large gentleman ahead of me held the door for me as I tried to enter. In doing this, he blocked the entry (he was very very large). So I couldn’t get by at all … so I said “excuse me” instead of the “thank you” he was obviously expecting. He turned red with what looked like anger and said “I am trying to be polite.” I said “yes, but you are standing in my way! I can get the door myself and it’s easier for me to maneuver if you move.” He walked away, mumbling to himself; clearly he thought I was BWAC.

So it seems to me, when you are perceived as disabled, even if you are independent, and in particular when you are very busy and impatient and always in a hurry as I am, you have to suffer the indignity of people helping you, which actually slows you down more often than not. I suppose the good spin on it would be “it forces me to slow down and enjoy life” or “it makes other people feel good to help me.” But hey, it wastes my time, and if that comment doesn’t sound ungrateful I don’t know what does. BWAC.

Speaking of the cane … let’s dish on that for a bit, shall we?

I have found that even if I am dressed in a business suit, if I carry a cane the homeless people on the street don’t panhandle me as often. The guy across from my building who used to be relentless in asking for my spare change now just says “good morning” as I walk by. Perhaps he figures I have it worse than he does. Of course I don’t, but for some reason he thinks so.

Some people give me strange looks, or even looks of disgust. This is usually on weekends when I am dressed in jeans or sweats running errands. If I look a bit disheveled and walk with a cane, I wonder if people think I’m homeless myself, or a drug abuser? Could that really be possible?

People at work are either full of questions or totally silent, trying to look at the cane without letting me know. Sometimes they avoid eye contact altogether. People I know sometimes appear not to recognize me. Do I really look so different now that I have a walking aid?

Where do I put the cane during meetings? It falls over all the time and of course I’m trying to put it somewhere that nobody will trip on it. I haven’t found a good solution to this. Plus, how can I reconcile the fact that I’m using a cane and wearing (small) heels? I have to dress up for work; am I really going to wear sensible shoes just because I need a cane? Eventually maybe, but right now I can and will wear shoes that I like.

Using a cane is harder work than I thought. I actually feel like I’m getting a bit of a workout sometimes, and I arrive at meetings flushed if I have to walk far to get there. Yes, and I’m late more often than not – I can no longer make it from one building to the other and up the stairs in 3 minutes flat. I’ll need to start adding more realistic travel time into my daily schedule.

While right now I am very focused on my hips, I hope to get all my research done, second opinions done and surgery finalized, so that I can focus on living my life as more than a pair of joints. This blog makes it seem like all I do is focus on me and my singular problem. Right now that is the case, since I’m in “fix the problem” mode. I haven’t blogged, for example, about the historic presidential election, although I have lots to say on the subject. It’s not that I’m shallow (although my acetabula are, LOL, that’s some really dumb hip humor), it’s just that I can only focus on one major project at a time, and this is it right now. I truly hope to resume the rest of my life very soon.

The Big Betrayal

I sometimes feel betrayed by my body. All these years I’ve taken pretty good care of it. I’ve been lucky to have had very good health all my life. I don’t smoke, rarely drink, don’t overdo the caffeine even though I live in Starbucks Land, eat right, and exercise. I am the type of person my insurance company loves – no claims, just the yearly wellness stuff, and meanwhile I subsidize everyone else’s bad health habits. Until now, when we find out that hey, I’m all broken! I have to be taken apart and put back together again in order to work right!

I did pilates a couple of years ago to become more flexible. My back was pretty flexible and my upper body can do interesting things, but no matter how much stretching or strengthening I did, my bones wouldn’t change their shape, and so my lower body was as inflexible as a piece of wood. It was so totally frustrating. My pilates teacher, Angela, is a skater and I had private lessons with her. I stretched at home every night. She was patient and tried everything with me. I eventually just gave up in frustration.

I’ve started using the cane more and more, and will soon get crutches. Not that I really need crutches yet (although the cane has been helpful). But I want to learn how to use assistive devices now, while I’m still pretty mobile, and not in the hospital the morning after surgery when I’m wandering around in a drug-induced fog with my butt cheeks hanging out of my gown. It also may help to keep some pressure off the joints before I go under the knife.

I wrote an e-mail to my co-workers explaining what was going on so they wouldn’t be appalled to see me with a cane at work on a regular basis. I showed up at the rink with the cane for the first time just so everyone could stare at me without feeling badly about it and get used to the idea.

People ask questions once they get over the shock. I know they all mean well, but after a while I just want to wear a t-shirt or carry a sign, or maybe just hand everyone an FAQ sheet:

~No, I didn’t fall down and hurt myself. Boy, do I wish that’s all it was!
~No, I’m not “injured” – my body was put together wrong.
~What happened? Well, actually, nothing “happened,” I was born this way.
~Thank you for saying you hope I get better soon, but I won’t get better, I’ll only get worse until surgery fixes me.

Carrying things while using a cane is difficult. I have a purse which is really a backpack and I dug it out and it works great! I think crutches will be really, really super-specially fun. Being on them may cure me of my daily latte habit since I see no way to carry a hot cup of espresso in the backpack while on crutches. My husband, who is very handy, will probably rig something up to make this possible. Although I suppose I don’t really need the crutches to cross the street and get coffee. After all, I can still walk on my own for now.

I wrote this in an e-mail today to Angela:
"It has been an enlightening journey to find out just how badly put together my body is, but it explains so many things about my inabilities and physical challenges throughout my life. It's good to know it's not just that I'm lazy, or that my muscles are tight, or that it's all in my head. It's a relief to have a reason now."

Speak softly and carry a big stick

My new sidekick: A wooden cane that my grandparents brought back from Mexico 30 years ago. It was in my parents' basement so I borrowed it for a test run.

Some problems with carrying a cane:
1. It's hard to carry other things since you only have one hand free! I must get a backpack since I carry a lot of stuff most days.
2. It's unwieldy. I have already wacked two people with it and not on purpose. It falls down when I lean it up against things. It's easy to trip over if I leave it lying around.
3. It's heavy.
4. It attracts attention. OK, look, I know I could mitigate this issue by getting something plainer; my cane has intricate carvings painted in bright colors. But my grandfather used this cane for years and it has sentimental value. Plus I'm cheap. Why buy a cane when I already have one?

I now have some level of pain pretty much all the time. If I sit for long periods of time my hips start to ache. When I first get up, I'm too stiff to move for a few moments. I can still sleep but only on my back. This doesn't hurt my hips but it does hurt my back. I figure eventually it will hurt my hips too, it's just a matter of time. I can't lie on either of my sides.

Walking hurts, although after I get going it hurts less.

Skating hurts.

Standing, sitting and lying down all hurt most of the time.

It's a tolerable hurt right now -- a dull ache and not a sharp pain. I am not taking pain medications until I have to. I'm not big on meds. NSAIDS can cause kidney damage and I'd rather have some pain now than kidney disease later. If I have to start popping an Advil now and then I will, but I want to delay that as long as possible. I want to know how bad it is, not mask it.

I am hoping that the pain will be tolerable through this skating season. I can then do something about it. I have an appointment with the periacetabular osteotomy guy Oct. 30 (I still can't believe the lead times for doctors). PAO does not sound promising, however. It sounds horribly painful with a long recovery time. A week in the hospital, and no weight bearing for months. The pain is akin to a broken pelvis, because that's what they do, break your pelvis. Hip replacement/resurfacing sounds less painful with a much shorter recovery time. However, the life span of those methods is limited (10 years? 20? who knows really) and the PAO may postpone the need for them -- or eliminate the need for them altogether.

When I read about the limitations post-surgery, PAO also sounds worse. I can't skate if I'm constantly thinking about what I can't do. I don't want to skate if my toes turn in and my extensions look like shit. I have worked all of my skating life to fight my lack of turnout and now I am at the point where my legline looks decent. To give all that up now just because I'm in some pain sounds silly. But if the pain increases it probably won't be so silly any more.

That's PAO though. Hip resurfacing will allow me some turnout; perhaps more than I have now. It's just the limited lifespan that worries me. I plan to live a long time and don't like the sound of 2 revisions in my future. But it seems multiple surgeries of some sort are inevitable. It's just a question of what. And when.

Hurry up, and wait

I am 45 years old, and I'm in pretty good shape. I've always been athletic, I dress fairly "young," and thanks to skating I've stayed out of the sun, mostly. So I look my age and by some accounts much younger (depends on the light level, the distance of the viewer, and the number of alcoholic beverages the viewer has consumed). This information will make sense as this story unfolds.

At work I walk fast, I take the stairs most of the time, and I'm usually walking around the office vs. sitting around. Well, up until recently anyway. Now that I have difficulty walking, I tend to walk much slower than before - noticeably so - and I have a lumbering and unusual gait until I get "warmed up." I can't always sit for long periods of time (I am getting a "sit/stand" workstation shortly).

So based on the fact that I look youngish, healthy and fit, people make certain assumptions about me. Like, if they hold the elevator for me, that I will pick up the pace so they don't have to wait. But I don't pick up the pace any more, and this has caused some people to roll their eyes and give me hostile looks. "Come on, we're waiting for you, the least you could do is hurry up!" "Hey lady, you're wasting my time!" That is what those looks say to me. Now I just wave to them from 20 feet away and say "go ahead, don't hold it for me." Let them think I'm lazy or don't care.

I took the elevator up one flight of stairs the other day, something that I have never done before, but the thought of climbing the stairs was just unnerving at the end of the day. I could almost see people shaking their heads as I got on the elevator on the 10th floor and off on 11, and I imagined what they said after my departure. "What a lazy ass!" "She's the reason our health premiums are so high!" "Wow, she doesn't even look like she feels guilty for wasting energy!"

I realize that I'm projecting my thoughts on other people, and whether the dirty looks are real or perceived, I'm probably imagining some of this. Is this how my own guilt and embarrassment over my new condition is manifesting itself? I'm not really sure.

I am thinking of borrowing a cane. Not that I need it quite yet, although I may need it soon. But with a cane in my hand it will be obvious that I am not just walking slowly because I'm lazy, but because I have a medical need to do so.

It's sad that I feel I need a "prop" in order to walk slowly and stiffly in my office without embarrassment. But I've always prided myself on my athleticism, the fact that I can walk anywhere on my own two feet, my independence. Perhaps I'm dreading the day I lose all of that independence temporarily after surgery, or for good.

I work for a disability insurer. We always tell people in our marketing materials that the risk of disability is higher than they might think. As I wrote those materials, I never thought that I might be one of those who became "disabled" - in my 40's -- after all, I eat right, I exercise, and I wear my seat belt. And here I am, feeling a little bit more disabled every day. I look at the things I've given up over many years and more recently (jumping on ice, which I had just started back to; running for the elevator; hiking; walking unless I have to). I am not truly disabled since I can still work at my desk job with accommodations. But I feel disabled nonetheless. Disabled from my life, the things I enjoy doing and the things I have always taken for granted. It is a sobering experience.