Moving Stairs

Today I went to the mall next door to work on my lunch hour to get a sandwich at the food court. I walked in the door and was confronted by ... an escalator!! I pondered this for a bit. Would I be capable of getting on and off the thing? Hmmm. Stairs are tricky enough with crutches, but moving stairs? I opted for the elevator, which I had never even noticed before. I had not noticed the handicapped buttons that automatically open the doors either, but let's just say my consciousness has been raised.

On a totally different subject, I read the following in a study discussing how to diagnose DDH in babies and young children. The following applies to children who are already walking:

"Dislocation of both hips may present with increased lumbar lordosis ["swayback"], prominent buttocks, and a waddling gait. Physical findings may include a stable "clicking" hip."

Describes me to a "T" before my PAO. It may just be my imagination, but I think my lordosis has resolved significantly since the surgery. As for the big butt -- well, I am a skater. I think that's here to stay.

[Link to the entire article]

Four Weeks

Clearly I haven't spent the past 4 weeks working on my tan

I am halfway to my post-op appointment where, please God, I will find out that I can ditch at least one of the crutches. I am 2/3 of the way to being able to drive and go in the pool. I have stopped the insane sweating. I am done with the hospital bed. I am so done with the iron supplements.

I am starting to feel pretty normal, other than being unable to get the song "Tennessee Waltz," complete with Lawrence Welk-type orchestration, out of my head. It's been two weeks since I took any pain meds so I don't think this is opiate-related, but I have no other explanation.

I also have this overwhelming urge to go shopping. I don't have the stamina to shop or try a bunch of things on, and I don't even know what size I will end up being when all is said and done; I'm not about to actually go to the mall. So what is driving this shopping desire? I think I've been watching too many episodes of "What Not to Wear," which is shown in reruns two or three times each weekday. I think Stacy and Clinton would agree that a brand new hip deserves a brand new wardrobe, so if anyone wants to nominate me to be on the show you have my blessing. Shut up!

Sleeping is still not a sure thing, and before this I was a really good sleeper, so I'm perplexed and not quite sure how to fix it. I've ruled out heavy drinking and sleeping pills, for now. I am still unable to find consistently comfortable sleeping positions throughout the night, and often wake up long before dawn. But that's OK! I can take naps any time I want to.

Not that I'm just sitting around doing nothing all day in my jammies, although occasionally that happens. I confess that I have read my share of People magazines, although I draw the line at The Enquirer and I've avoided the most ridiculous daytime TV shows. (Note: "What Not to Wear" should NOT be categorized as crappy daytime TV.) Most days I try to be as normal as possible by getting up, showering, making an attempt to tame my hair even though blow drying is out of the question, and putting on "real" clothes from the loungewear family (i.e., sweats).

I attempt to sit upright each day for as long as possible. I try to get up and walk around throughout the day and/or get out of the house if someone is willing to come get me. I'm not yet ready to walk in my own neighborhood since our streets are not well paved and the terrain is hilly. I am able to shower standing up on one foot. I can do light housework, such as cleaning up cat barf, doing laundry, and washing dishes. Monday I even vacuumed half of the main floor (it is possible, just takes a while) and cleaned the upstairs bathrooms. I actually sat on the floor and scrubbed from there - it's easier than mopping upright.

Which leads me to ... I can sit on the floor and get up from the floor using my good leg. It's a neat party trick.

I have not yet tripped, fallen, or accidentally put my full weight on my right leg as so many PAO patients do. In some ways I wish this would happen so I could test out my hip, but I know it's not ready. Don't worry mom, I'm not planning to actually do this.

My upper thigh is still numb, lumpy and a bit swollen. The scar looks really good and doesn't hurt when I touch it. I occasionally feel odd twinges of pain in my outer hip which I imagine are screw heads poking me, but since I'm not sure what screw heads feel like this could all be in my mind. I feel odd pulling sensations in my muscles. Sometimes my knees hurt, especially at night. I know how important strong quads are to keep the knee joint stable; my quads are not just weak, they are pathetic after four weeks of atrophy. My hope is the knees will be just fine once I build the muscles up again -- I've never had knee problems and don't want to start now.

I actually feel like I could walk just fine without my crutches, but I'm not going to be a fool and try it. There will be plenty of time for walking. I'm sure I'll look back fondly on these lazy, boring days when I'm in the midst of physical therapy hell in September.

Put one foot in front of the other ...

Walking is so basic. It seems so easy. It's great exercise. It's good for you. Almost anyone can do it!

My stepdaughter Ashley is here visiting from Colorado, on break from college. Yesterday my mother and I showed her some of the highlights of Portland - the Rose Garden, the Japanese Garden, and shopping on NW 23rd. I walked A LOT, more than I have since diagnosis, and didn't really make any accommodations except taking the shuttle up the hill to the Japanese Garden. Today I feel like somebody stood on my pelvis and took a baseball bat to my back, hips, and legs.

My 70-year-old mother accompanied us and wasn't even tired at the end of the day, while I was firmly planted on a chair complaining of how sore my legs were. That's right, me, the athlete.

We are supposed to be going downtown tomorrow and to the beach the following day, both walking-intensive activities. The wheelchair idea is sounding better and better. Wheelchair on sand at the beach? Probably not going to happen. I just need to get through this week and then it's only 4 more weeks until surgery. I can spend the weekend recovering from all of this walking.

I am now 100% convinced that I do need this surgery.

Around Anchorage

Last October, exhibiting the "Old Normal" - disco pants and all!

I spent the weekend in Anchorage, which is a 6 hour plane ride (plus a layover in Seattle and a one-hour time change) from Portland. Because of the distance from the lower 48, it's not the type of place you normally go for just a weekend, but I was asked to come up and judge some skating tests and always love going to Alaska, so I said yes.

I again found myself bumped to the front of the security line just because I have a cane. Again, I didn't argue with this; I suppose it's one of the only perqs for those with hip dysplasia and other disabilities. I felt kind of silly since I still envision myself as I was 9 months ago - healthy and young - and figured everyone in line saw the sham.

That was before I caught sight of myself reflected in the glass-lined walkway as I made my way through security. Who is that old, stooped over woman, shuffling along? Not an athlete or dancer with good posture and a spring in her step. That's the person I am inside my head, but the mirror told me the truth. I have certainly aged since August.

Once in Anchorage I did my judging and then went sightseeing with one of the coaches, her dad, and the other judges. Thankfully we were driven in a van and only got out to walk around when we got to our destination, where we had dinner and then came home. Quite the sedentary sightseeing, and so different from what I used to do.

I did do a lot more walking than usual though, and probably walked faster than my "new normal" pace. On Sunday morning I walked "around" the lake which was near the hotel. The old me would have done exactly that. The new me walked "around" -- meaning "near," not "on the perimeter of" -- the lake. That means I went from the hotel lobby to the lake, walked about a block along the shore, then turned around and came back. That was my limit. I was sore when I arrived home at midnight Sunday.

I hope that my future state "new new normal" after surgery is somewhat closer to the old normal, although I fear I will never really be "normal" again. It would also be nice to feel my age again, and not like this androgynous, clunky, staggering, shuffling elderly lady I've become. I hope to hold myself tall and walk like a dancer or an athlete again. I hope to some day really be able to walk "around" the lake; hell, I'd like to be able to walk all around Anchorage. I hope some day to be "around" normal.

Tuesday is for whining

Exercise is important when you are heading into hip surgery. I know I need to keep my weight down as well as strengthen my leg muscles as much as possible. But it’s just gotten so damn depressing lately.

I’ve had to ramp down my eating, to the point where I’m pretty much existing on egg whites and veggies right now. Otherwise I’d balloon up, and then my compromised hips would have to carry around that extra weight, which would just hasten the breakdown of cartilage and hasten the time frame for arthritic changes. I’d rather starve myself than speed up that process.

I am a big eater and have always worked it off with exercise. I’m no good with diets – I just don’t do them. I have cut back drastically on my walking and for all intents and purposes stopped skating. I’ve gone from an activity level of “high” to “sedentary” in a few short months, and I know that my metabolism has changed. My weight has only crept up a couple of pounds but I know my percentage of lean muscle to fat has gone downhill. And there isn’t much I can do about it.

I’ve tried the elliptical machine, and I’m lifting weights a few times per week, but I’ve never been a gym person either. I wasn’t seeing much impact from the machines, and so I started to work out harder, but that means the day after I work out my hips HURT, so I take a couple of days off … and so I’m really not getting anywhere. I’m not sure whether I should continue to work out when things hurt, or not. Then I have to keep cutting back on food, and then I’m always tired.

This is just not a healthy situation. I know that I have to keep it up until July, but by then I won’t be as buff as I had planned. At my advanced age, I know recovery is not going to be as easy as it would be for the younger generation, so the buffer the better. I can’t even ask my doctor about this, because his advice was just “don’t exercise” and “keep your weight down.” I’m finding that next to impossible.

I know I’m going to get at least one comment from a hip sister that urges me to “swim.” I hate swimming. Hate hate hate hate hate swimming. So yes, I know swimming may help me but I just can’t bring myself to take the plunge. I'm saving it for my post-surgical recovery, when I know I won't be able to do anything else.

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.

It's the standing, stupid

While working out last night, I was reminded of my lifelong disgust with myself for never being able to “get fit.” No matter how much I worked out, it seemed my leg muscles would never get used to exercise and my legs always tired quickly and started to ache.

When I lived in Colorado, in my 30’s, I walked 3 to 5 miles every day in my hilly neighborhood. Since I lived on a mountain this was also a way to see wildlife and enjoy the outdoors. I was already athletic so walking seemed easy in some ways – I didn’t get out of breath – but my legs hurt while I was walking and after. So I figured I needed to just keep walking and over time my muscles would build up to the task and the pain would stop.

I walked for 4 years, after buying the latest in cushioned walking shoes, and I walked on dirt trails which I realize now were softer and better for my hips than concrete, but my “muscles” never stopped hurting. The same thing happened if I went to an aerobics class, or did any kind of high impact cardio training. I cursed myself for being such a weenie and just did it anyway. I trained harder, hoping that would do it. I always wondered why everyone else was in better shape (meaning able to walk just fine) without even trying.

When I started skating again I had the same achy leg issues, but put them firmly in the back of my mind. It always bothered me that despite all of that exercise it never got better and I was still “out of shape.” When I tested or competed I had to be very careful not to warm up much so that my legs wouldn’t be “dead” by the time I performed. It was hard for me to reconcile that I just didn’t have any stamina in my legs, although my lungs were fine. I learned how to conserve my energy for when it was needed.

Last night I was doing some standing leg exercises. The leg doing the weight lifting was fine. But the leg I was standing on, putting all my weight on in fact, instantly had that same “muscle” pain and tiredness I used to get. I realize now based on the location of the pain that it wasn’t my muscles that were aching at all. It was my femur bone slamming into my acetabulum that was causing the pain, because my acetabulum doesn’t cover the femur properly. So, all my life, all of my weight has been borne by a very small part of the bone. No amount of training was going to make that pain go away. I just trained myself to ignore it.

I am glad the mystery is solved. It will be nice to some day be able to stand on my leg and have the weight of my body correctly distributed over a larger surface area so I won’t have that aching tired sensation. When both surgeries/recoveries are over I’ll be almost 50 years old, and if all goes well I may just be able to stand and walk normally for the first time in my life.

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!"

Giving Thanks

I haven’t written here in a while. I’ve been concentrating on living life, and trying not to think about surgeries and such. Things are mostly status quo, except walking is getting more difficult. I walked 6 city blocks to meet Perry at the optometrist last night – I thought driving would be stupid – and I’m regretting it today. It didn’t hurt much at the time, but I need to realize that the next day is always the killer.

My knee, elbow and tricep are also sore because of a fall Tim and I took on the ice yesterday. It was just a stupid fall during a free dance run-through, on our circular footwork of all things. I just went into a drape and fell for no reason, and took him down with me. I don’t think this fall was hip related, although I do notice that generally I’m not as steady on my blades any more and rely on Tim more for support. We got up and kept skating the rest of the session since we are so tough. I’m sure Dr. Mayo would not approve of any of this since I’m supposedly limited to “low impact” activities such as swimming, the elliptical machine, and sitting on "The Bean" watching TV. Ahem. Thank goodness Dr. Mayo's way too busy to read this blog.

The purpose of this post is not to complain as I usually do, but to give thanks. There are all kinds of reasons to do this. In frightening economic times, Perry and I both have jobs. We have health insurance (although it is doubtful mine will cover my PAO, but that is a story for a complaining post, not for a thankful post). Our parents are healthy. Overall, we are healthy, hips excluded of course. The kids are doing well in school and staying out of trouble. Other than our mortgage, which is at a low, fixed rate, we have no debt. Our home has lost a bit of value but we bought it at a good price before prices started to heat up; we plan to keep it for a while and we’re not under water. Our 401(k)s have taken a hit, but we aren’t planning to retire any time soon. We do feel very lucky that we are weathering these financial difficulties well, since we know that is not the case for everyone. Many of our friends have had setbacks and we can only be supportive.

I am thankful for all that I have, for my wonderful family and friends, and for Perry, who has cheered me up even when I don’t want to be cheered up. We are truly lucky.

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.

And I'm feeeeeelin' ... good?

Strangely, yes. After several days feeling like someone had beat me up in the parking lot, I woke up this morning feeling almost quite normal. I did my usual routine of sleep for 5 hours and wake up, but I think that was more from habit than pain, and I fell back to sleep.

This morning my hips barely hurt, my back doesn't hurt, and my knees don't hurt. It's amazing. AND, I skated for 45 minutes yesterday, working on Novice Moves since Tim is out of town. I skated at medium intensity and so I figured I'd pay for it today, but somehow I'm not.

The past 3 nights I've had trouble sleeping and it has felt as if someone kicked me in the pelvis by morning. My back has hurt almost as much as my hips but I think that is from standing at my desk all day vs. sitting. And my knees have started to bother me, probably because I walk funny and that puts additional stress on them.

I think that I can attribute this episode of feeling good to stretching last night. I didn't stretch overly hard or long, but I did it. I hate stretching and always have. It has always been painful and I've seen very little progress with it. I've always been inflexible even when I've worked hard at it. This has caused me to hate ballet class where they keep telling me to do things I can't, and to hate stretch class and yoga class where I am the only one who can't touch my toes or bring my knees to my chest.

I even hired a personal trainer once to work on stretching with me. She said I was "the least flexible young person" she had ever seen. Stretching for me has always been a losing battle. Now in middle age I'm only going to get less flexible, so while stretching won't improve me, it may keep me feeling better than I would without it. So I need to make time for it even though it hurts and I hate it.

Other things that I'm learning about myself:

I have very overdeveloped glutes. This is called a "skater's butt," but I have more than the usual amount of it. I have the mega butt, which contrasts enough with my very small waist that I can't find clothes to fit. I always thought the butt was due to skating, even though it persisted during those two decades when I wasn't skating (although I was doing other athletic activities). I wondered why I got so much of it even though as a kid I really wasn't training heavily compared to many and I wasn't an elite skater. I had no body fat either back then so it was just very, very strange and oh, so ugly.

Now I think it's the mechanism my body has used to compensate for the weakness in my hips. I think the muscles around the hip joints have atrophied and the glutes always made up the work load. This is also why I found that I was very weak doing certain exercises that everyone else found easy. I just didn't have the structure for it and the muscles couldn't get strong no matter what. The biggest muscles in my lower body picked up the slack for all the rest.

This is all amateur science and conjecture on my part, but would certainly make sense if it were true. I can't find anything in the medical literature stating that people with acetabular dysplasia develop large glutes, but perhaps it depends on which athletic activities they pursue. My body has been trying to do the things I ask of it, skating-wise, with a structure that is more suited to couch potato-hood, and since I insisted, it compensated.

Well, all this aside, today I am feeling good so I plan to take advantage and paint the closet in the bathroom.

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.

Possibly Cathartic, Probably Immature,

...and Definitely Angry.

This is an addendum to my post from earlier today regarding my recent hip problems. If you haven't yet, please read that post first.

I realized today that my hip deformity has caused physical and emotional problems for a long time, even though I had no idea that I had this defect until today. This evening while feeling sorry for myself I recalled some of these problems; it is not much comfort now to know the reason behind them but I feel I should list them here for posterity.

I remember in Kindergarten when we were being read to, all of us kids were told we must sit "Indian Style" for 30 minutes (Not such a PC term now, but I'm sure you all know the position I mean.) At age 5 I could only sit that way for a few seconds before my legs started to shake and hurt. My femurs naturally rotate inward, not outward, and so I could then (and still now) more easily sit with my upper legs together with my lower legs turned out in "W" position.

I remember being told that we MUST sit for the half hour reading period INDIAN STYLE, and I was corrected by teachers, publicly, over and over again for being unwilling to sit that way. (Somebody explain the mindset of these Kindergarten Nazi Bitches to me ... I am at a loss.) Sometimes it hurt so much that I would cry. I remember the teachers scolding me for being "a baby" and "disruptive." Nobody thought it was a medical problem; who ever heard of a 5 year old who couldn't sit "Indian Style"? They never told my parents or sent me to a doctor, just strongly suggested to me that I was a bad child. Needless to say, children being the savages that they are, I was picked on mercilessly for being such a loser. Perhaps that's the starting point of some of my more interesting personality quirks.

Kindergarten teachers of mine, if you were here right now you'd be appalled at the highly disruptive and disobedient gesture I'm making in your direction with my middle finger. That's right, this is my blog, and I can do that if I want to. Nyah nyah nyah.

So I didn't see a doctor for the x-rays that would have made it obvious that I needed corrective surgery which, at that young age, would have prevented so many problems I've had since. Problems such as being unable to ride horses, something I love to do, because I can't walk for weeks afterwards due to my stiff and sore hips. Problems such as being yelled at as a teenager by skating coaches because I couldn't do an Ina Bauer (obviously not trying hard enough, probably lazy and bratty to boot). Problems such as difficulty in my late 30's riding a bicycle for more than a mile because my hips hurt (I chalked it up to being out of shape at the time and never rode a bike again). Problems walking over the last 3 years that I attributed to arthritis and old age which have caused me to groan like an old man as I get up and walk stiff-legged after getting up out of my chair at work, which co-workers have found amusing; I did too until it got so bad I realized that it wasn't normal.

{Addendum -- 8/8/08 -- my research reveals that periacetabular osteotomy, the surgical procedure used on children and young adults, was pioneered in 1984, so unfortunately it would not have helped me as a Kindergartner in the late '60's. However, I still wish I'd known about this problem earlier.}

Now it appears I may be too old for that type of surgery, leaving me again with the double hip replacement scenario as my only option, along with a lifetime of memories of things I could never do, or can no longer do, or stopped doing a long time ago.

Yes, I'm feeling sorry for myself, but this is my blog and I can say whatever I want to. Nyah nyah nyah.