The good news: My hip feels GREAT right now.
The bad news: I know from past experience that this is not the cortisone working its magic, but the short-lived numbing agent that is also in the shot.
I'll be sure to enjoy the next 12-18 hours to the fullest!
Surprisingly, the injection wasn't nearly as bad as the first time. Not NEARLY! It actually wasn't bad at all. The funny thing is that while I was waiting for the injection, the doctor popped his head in and said that he was going to look at my X-rays and would be right back. I remember from the last time that he wasn't able to pull up my X-rays (and am not sure why it's necessary), and that must have been the case again, because he came in and asked, 'We've injected you before, right?' I said yes, and must have made a horrible face, because later he said, 'You've already had one of these, so you know it's not your favorite thing.' I told him I was reeeaaaaally not looking forward to it, but at least this time I was prepared for how bad it was going to hurt.
He asked how long the cortisone had helped last time, and I said I wasn't sure because I had had surgery about a month afterward. We then talked briefly about the surgery. I told him that it had been nine weeks and I was still feeling pretty awful. He asked what my doctor thought was going on and I said I had no idea what he thought. He contemplated this for a brief moment and then said, 'Well, I'm sure he's just as unhappy as you are about the fact that the recovery isn't going well.' Uhhhhh, I seriously doubt that! But I refrained from commenting, and just said that I knew it must be bad if I was agreeing to another cortisone injection. He said that he had had his hip injected a few times, so he understood.
Then he added that the first time he felt stinging and burning all the
way down his leg, but that the second time he just felt uncomfortable
pressure in his groin area. Then he fired up the ultrasound and remarked that it looked like I had quite a bit of fluid in the joint. Then in went the needle. I was bracing myself for the worst, but it turned out that it would be exactly the same
for me as it was for him. The first time I felt stinging and burning all the
way down my leg, but this time I just felt uncomfortable
pressure in my groin area, which was NOTHING compared to the first time. It also seemed much faster than the first time, and it turns out that it was.
When he was finished, I told him that it wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting; it was nowhere as bad as the first time. He said maybe he was getting better at doing the injections. Ha. I told him that the first time I couldn't believe how long 30 seconds was, and he said he had been able to do it much faster this time; it was only about 15 seconds. So it wasn't just my imagination. All in all, I was pleasantly surprised.
Even better, I hardly had to wait at all. According to the Internet, and a colleague who sees this doctor as her regular orthopedist for a different hip problem, the wait time for the doctor is usually pretty horrendous. I guess I've just been lucky both times I've seen him. I at least felt fairly confident today because my original appointment was at 4:15 but got moved up to 2:00 because the doctor had to leave early for some reason. I figured if HE had somewhere to go, he would try harder to stay on schedule. LOL.
Anyway, I guess now I'll just wait and see, and be sure to enjoy the numbing agent while it lasts. I'm looking forward to at least getting a good night's sleep. :)
Showing posts with label cortisone injection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cortisone injection. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
At least I'm not dead (9 Weeks + 1 Day)
Some perspective: My husband is flying out tonight to go to the funeral of a dear friend, who unexpectedly dropped dead on Friday, at the age of 37. He leaves behind four children and a pregnant wife. Although I could not sleep last night because my hips were throbbing, and I'm feeling increasing frustration toward my surgeon and about my situation in general, I do realize that it could be much, much worse. In the large scheme of things that life can throw at you, this is extremely minor. I'm grateful that this frustration is the biggest annoyance in my life right now.
That said, I am simultaneously dreading and looking forward to my cortisone injection tomorrow. Dreading - because now that I already have one cortisone shot under my belt, I know that they Hurt. Like. Hell. Looking forward to - because now that I already have one cortisone shot under my belt, I know that they can offer significant pain relief. And I reeeeaaaaaallly need that pain relief right now. I feel as if my pain levels have slowly but steadily been increasing over the past week, which, quite frankly, sucks. I have actually been using a crutch to get around the house this morning because it helps my hip not hurt so much and I feel like there is no point in pushing through the pain. I've been pushing through it for the past few weeks, which has been making it worse, not better.
At this point, I've pinned all of my hopes on the cortisone injection. But I have been losing some sleep over the anticipation of it. I remember when my daughter was born, even after all my birthing classes, I had such horrible back labor that I said yes to the epidural faster than you can say 'natural birthing classes.' Unfortunately, the one anesthesiologist in town was tied up at the time, so I went for several hours without it. Eventually my OB/GYN arrived at the hospital and gave me an intrathecal injection. A few minutes after the injection, my blood pressure dropped and my daughter's heart rate fell to 40 BPM. Even though I wasn't fully dilated, my OB/GYN had to vacuum her out because her life was in danger. Fast forward six years to my son's birth. Because of my previous experience with the intrathecal, I was dead set against any injections. Dead set. At the same time, I recalled the excruciating pain that led me to beg for an injection, even though I had been fairly set against it. The anticipation of the pain I was going to experience, along with the knowledge that I would absolutely not have an epidural, led to many sleepless nights before the delivery. Fortunately, my son was born six weeks early, so that saved me from six weeks of sleeplessness, lol. Just as I got through my son's birth, I will get through the injection. I just hope that being prepared for the pain might make it easier the second time around.
I am also curious to see how much it helps this time. I remember the first time, I felt absolutely amazing the morning after the injection. Apparently this was due to the numbing agent in the injection, and not the cortisone. Unfortunately, the effect of the numbing agent was short-lived, but the doctor said the fact that it provided so much relief was good information, because it confirmed that the pain was coming from inside the hip joint, and not from somewhere else. This also helped confirm that I would likely benefit from surgery to fix my labrum. So now I have mixed feelings about the injection. On the one hand, if I feel awesome the day after the injection, it will be nice to feel pain free. On the other hand, I don't like the idea that even after surgery I could be having that much pain coming from inside my joint. I know that my muscles all around my hip are also 'angry' (to use my surgeon's words), but it's hard for me to tell how much of pain is coming from the muscles and how much of the pain is coming from the hip joint. In a way, I'd feel better if I knew the pain were coming from my muscles rather than my hip joint, but this would also mean that the cortisone injection won't really help, which would suck. I'm trying to decide if this is a lose-lose or a win-win situation, ha ha. In the interest of staying positive, I will try to see this as win-win, but ask me again tomorrow. :)
That said, I am simultaneously dreading and looking forward to my cortisone injection tomorrow. Dreading - because now that I already have one cortisone shot under my belt, I know that they Hurt. Like. Hell. Looking forward to - because now that I already have one cortisone shot under my belt, I know that they can offer significant pain relief. And I reeeeaaaaaallly need that pain relief right now. I feel as if my pain levels have slowly but steadily been increasing over the past week, which, quite frankly, sucks. I have actually been using a crutch to get around the house this morning because it helps my hip not hurt so much and I feel like there is no point in pushing through the pain. I've been pushing through it for the past few weeks, which has been making it worse, not better.
At this point, I've pinned all of my hopes on the cortisone injection. But I have been losing some sleep over the anticipation of it. I remember when my daughter was born, even after all my birthing classes, I had such horrible back labor that I said yes to the epidural faster than you can say 'natural birthing classes.' Unfortunately, the one anesthesiologist in town was tied up at the time, so I went for several hours without it. Eventually my OB/GYN arrived at the hospital and gave me an intrathecal injection. A few minutes after the injection, my blood pressure dropped and my daughter's heart rate fell to 40 BPM. Even though I wasn't fully dilated, my OB/GYN had to vacuum her out because her life was in danger. Fast forward six years to my son's birth. Because of my previous experience with the intrathecal, I was dead set against any injections. Dead set. At the same time, I recalled the excruciating pain that led me to beg for an injection, even though I had been fairly set against it. The anticipation of the pain I was going to experience, along with the knowledge that I would absolutely not have an epidural, led to many sleepless nights before the delivery. Fortunately, my son was born six weeks early, so that saved me from six weeks of sleeplessness, lol. Just as I got through my son's birth, I will get through the injection. I just hope that being prepared for the pain might make it easier the second time around.
I am also curious to see how much it helps this time. I remember the first time, I felt absolutely amazing the morning after the injection. Apparently this was due to the numbing agent in the injection, and not the cortisone. Unfortunately, the effect of the numbing agent was short-lived, but the doctor said the fact that it provided so much relief was good information, because it confirmed that the pain was coming from inside the hip joint, and not from somewhere else. This also helped confirm that I would likely benefit from surgery to fix my labrum. So now I have mixed feelings about the injection. On the one hand, if I feel awesome the day after the injection, it will be nice to feel pain free. On the other hand, I don't like the idea that even after surgery I could be having that much pain coming from inside my joint. I know that my muscles all around my hip are also 'angry' (to use my surgeon's words), but it's hard for me to tell how much of pain is coming from the muscles and how much of the pain is coming from the hip joint. In a way, I'd feel better if I knew the pain were coming from my muscles rather than my hip joint, but this would also mean that the cortisone injection won't really help, which would suck. I'm trying to decide if this is a lose-lose or a win-win situation, ha ha. In the interest of staying positive, I will try to see this as win-win, but ask me again tomorrow. :)
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Surgery Consult and Decision Making
On 6/27, I went to see the orthopedist for a surgery consult. Of course, the first thing I asked him about was the recovery time, and he told me that I would need to be on crutches for a month. One month!
That's a long time. It's a long time no matter what, but it's a really
long time considering I have a two-year-old who isn't potty trained,
can't dress himself, live in an almost 100-year-old house with insane
stairs, etc., etc., etc. I really didn't think I could do that, so I sort of got hung up on that aspect of the recovery and decided against the surgery right then and there. (I later reconsidered, obviously.) Unfortunately, because of the crutches hang up, I didn't really use the rest of the appointment to ask other useful questions that would have helped guide my decision-making. After a few days of going back and forth in my mind, I e-mailed the surgeon a bunch of questions and he ended up calling me back and going over them with me on the phone.
Some considerations:
1. Interestingly, while the one month on crutches thing seemed very long, the rest of the recovery didn't seem as grim as I had imagined. I asked the doctor if I had surgery, theoretically, within the next few weeks, if I could be off crutches and completely ambulatory by August 13th. I am teaching a one-week course, a semester's worth of material in five days, starting on 8/13. This course meets 8-5 for five days, and is physically tiring for me even when I'm not recovering from surgery. However, it is worth noting that I did teach this class when I was 33 weeks pregnant, which is probably just as bad as teaching it one month after hip surgery. (Then again, my son was born right after I finished, six weeks early, so maybe it wasn't the best idea.)
The doctor said this was doable, as long as I would be able to take breaks. I also might not be able to walk around too much, but standing would be fine. I tend to walk around a lot when I lecture, but I can modify this. And I'm sure none of my students will cry if I give them more breaks than normal.
2. I asked how long it would be before I could drive. If you Google 'driving after hip arthroscopy,' you get a wide range of responses from 'once you're off pain meds' to 'once you're off crutches' to 'six weeks if it's your right hip' (which it is). While I eventually came to the conclusion that one month on crutches was doable, one month of not driving was really not doable for me at this point in my life. I live in a city with limited public transportation, and the nearest bus stops are three blocks away. This wouldn't normally be a big deal, but is a big deal on crutches and with kids in tow. Plus, you have to consider the distance you have to travel from where the bus drops you off to your final destination. (For example, it is a trek from where the bus drops you off at the university to the university daycare.) Not doable. I mean, I'm sure I could make it happen if I HAD to, but this is elective surgery we're talking about.
However, after a brief discussion about what type of car I drive, my doctor was in the 'once you're off pain meds' camp. Who needs pain meds anyway? LOL. The big consideration for driving is that you cannot flex your thigh past 90 degrees, so I guess this rules out things like fancy little sports cars. Fortunately for me, I drive a hand-me-down from my grandparents, which I inherited eight years ago, along with their cat.
3. Speaking of no flexion past 90 degrees, probably the biggest bummer of all of this is, for me, is not being able to garden. Gardening is my one big hobby, and I actually really enjoy weeding. There is something oddly satisfying about sitting in my garden, yanking out weeds, and feeding them to my chickens. (I'm somewhat of an urban homesteader.) I can go to my Happy Place in my garden.
Unfortunately, the doctor did say that gardening was pretty much out. I believe the exact words were: 'Uh, yeah, there's not going to be much gardening after the surgery.'
4. I asked if I would be able to ski by ski season. This is not totally necessary, but merited strong consideration. My daughter finally learned how to ski proficiently this last spring and my son will be old enough for ski school in the winter, and I was looking forward to skiing with my family this year. I wasn't willing to give up the rest of my summer PLUS winter recovering from surgery.
However, the doctor said skiing by ski season was totally doable, and that after three months there would basically be no restrictions on my activity. He said that he has gotten NHL players playing hockey again after three months. I assume that was in a previous lifetime considering he must be, like, 20 years old, lol, but nevertheless, I was happy to be put in the same category as NHL players. :)
5. I explained my concern over getting around my house on crutches. I live in a house that was built in 1920 and has a horrible stair case. Granted, I am a little phobic of stairs, perhaps overly so. However, between my knee that randomly gives out on me and a highly uncoordinated daughter who trips no fewer than ten times a day, the fear isn't totally irrational - and I have actually fallen down the stairs at a colleague/neighbor's house while holding my son, when he was an infant. (That was fun. Not.) The main problem with our stairs is that there is no rail, so all those instructions on the web about going down stairs on crutches don't apply. (FYI: This is a very useful site if you have normal stairs: http://www.upmc.com/patients-visitors/education/rehab/pages/stair-climbing-with-crutches.aspx.) Our house is also difficult to get into and out of. When we bought the house, the back entryway was almost a deal breaker for me because there is a real possibility that you can fall down the stairs into the basement if you aren't careful. Since I'm not planning to move anytime soon, the stairs will always be an issue. However, when you add a two-year-old into the mix, it makes the issue a little more difficult. I can't be going up and down the stairs all the time like I usually am, following my son from inside to outside and then back in, getting things for him, putting him down for his nap, changing his diaper, etc. (The diaper changing is another issue.)
The doctor asked if I would have to go upstairs to sleep - i.e., was my bedroom upstairs? All the bedrooms are upstairs, although I can always sleep downstairs. He agreed that might be a good idea, but said if I had to go up the stairs, I might want to consider going up backwards and coming down on my butt (which is what I make my kids do; they call it thump thumping down). It wouldn't necessarily be easy, but it was doable. He also said he had done this surgery on other people with young children and they managed; that even after a few days it was likely I'd be feeling pretty good and would be able to get around pretty well. You just need to stay on crutches for so long to allow the cartilage time to heal properly.
So that was that.
* * * * *
After a lot (A LOT) of thinking and thinking and OVERTHINKING, I decided that the surgery was going to have to happen at some point. I can't live another 40+ years like this, and I do hope to live another 40+ years. I also hope that some of these future 40+ years are more active than the past year has been for me. Thus, I came to the conclusion that sooner would be better than later, just because if I'm miserable, and surgery can make things better, which I hope with all my heart it can (otherwise why would I do it?), then why should I wait? As one of the doctors told me, there is no 'good time' for surgery.
The thing is that if I wanted to do the surgery this summer, it needed to happen soon if I was going to be ready to teach by 8/13. Considering it took me seven months from the time my pain started to actually see an orthopedist, that seemed rushed.
Other options:
Some considerations:
1. Interestingly, while the one month on crutches thing seemed very long, the rest of the recovery didn't seem as grim as I had imagined. I asked the doctor if I had surgery, theoretically, within the next few weeks, if I could be off crutches and completely ambulatory by August 13th. I am teaching a one-week course, a semester's worth of material in five days, starting on 8/13. This course meets 8-5 for five days, and is physically tiring for me even when I'm not recovering from surgery. However, it is worth noting that I did teach this class when I was 33 weeks pregnant, which is probably just as bad as teaching it one month after hip surgery. (Then again, my son was born right after I finished, six weeks early, so maybe it wasn't the best idea.)
The doctor said this was doable, as long as I would be able to take breaks. I also might not be able to walk around too much, but standing would be fine. I tend to walk around a lot when I lecture, but I can modify this. And I'm sure none of my students will cry if I give them more breaks than normal.
2. I asked how long it would be before I could drive. If you Google 'driving after hip arthroscopy,' you get a wide range of responses from 'once you're off pain meds' to 'once you're off crutches' to 'six weeks if it's your right hip' (which it is). While I eventually came to the conclusion that one month on crutches was doable, one month of not driving was really not doable for me at this point in my life. I live in a city with limited public transportation, and the nearest bus stops are three blocks away. This wouldn't normally be a big deal, but is a big deal on crutches and with kids in tow. Plus, you have to consider the distance you have to travel from where the bus drops you off to your final destination. (For example, it is a trek from where the bus drops you off at the university to the university daycare.) Not doable. I mean, I'm sure I could make it happen if I HAD to, but this is elective surgery we're talking about.
However, after a brief discussion about what type of car I drive, my doctor was in the 'once you're off pain meds' camp. Who needs pain meds anyway? LOL. The big consideration for driving is that you cannot flex your thigh past 90 degrees, so I guess this rules out things like fancy little sports cars. Fortunately for me, I drive a hand-me-down from my grandparents, which I inherited eight years ago, along with their cat.
3. Speaking of no flexion past 90 degrees, probably the biggest bummer of all of this is, for me, is not being able to garden. Gardening is my one big hobby, and I actually really enjoy weeding. There is something oddly satisfying about sitting in my garden, yanking out weeds, and feeding them to my chickens. (I'm somewhat of an urban homesteader.) I can go to my Happy Place in my garden.
Unfortunately, the doctor did say that gardening was pretty much out. I believe the exact words were: 'Uh, yeah, there's not going to be much gardening after the surgery.'
4. I asked if I would be able to ski by ski season. This is not totally necessary, but merited strong consideration. My daughter finally learned how to ski proficiently this last spring and my son will be old enough for ski school in the winter, and I was looking forward to skiing with my family this year. I wasn't willing to give up the rest of my summer PLUS winter recovering from surgery.
However, the doctor said skiing by ski season was totally doable, and that after three months there would basically be no restrictions on my activity. He said that he has gotten NHL players playing hockey again after three months. I assume that was in a previous lifetime considering he must be, like, 20 years old, lol, but nevertheless, I was happy to be put in the same category as NHL players. :)
5. I explained my concern over getting around my house on crutches. I live in a house that was built in 1920 and has a horrible stair case. Granted, I am a little phobic of stairs, perhaps overly so. However, between my knee that randomly gives out on me and a highly uncoordinated daughter who trips no fewer than ten times a day, the fear isn't totally irrational - and I have actually fallen down the stairs at a colleague/neighbor's house while holding my son, when he was an infant. (That was fun. Not.) The main problem with our stairs is that there is no rail, so all those instructions on the web about going down stairs on crutches don't apply. (FYI: This is a very useful site if you have normal stairs: http://www.upmc.com/patients-visitors/education/rehab/pages/stair-climbing-with-crutches.aspx.) Our house is also difficult to get into and out of. When we bought the house, the back entryway was almost a deal breaker for me because there is a real possibility that you can fall down the stairs into the basement if you aren't careful. Since I'm not planning to move anytime soon, the stairs will always be an issue. However, when you add a two-year-old into the mix, it makes the issue a little more difficult. I can't be going up and down the stairs all the time like I usually am, following my son from inside to outside and then back in, getting things for him, putting him down for his nap, changing his diaper, etc. (The diaper changing is another issue.)
The doctor asked if I would have to go upstairs to sleep - i.e., was my bedroom upstairs? All the bedrooms are upstairs, although I can always sleep downstairs. He agreed that might be a good idea, but said if I had to go up the stairs, I might want to consider going up backwards and coming down on my butt (which is what I make my kids do; they call it thump thumping down). It wouldn't necessarily be easy, but it was doable. He also said he had done this surgery on other people with young children and they managed; that even after a few days it was likely I'd be feeling pretty good and would be able to get around pretty well. You just need to stay on crutches for so long to allow the cartilage time to heal properly.
So that was that.
* * * * *
After a lot (A LOT) of thinking and thinking and OVERTHINKING, I decided that the surgery was going to have to happen at some point. I can't live another 40+ years like this, and I do hope to live another 40+ years. I also hope that some of these future 40+ years are more active than the past year has been for me. Thus, I came to the conclusion that sooner would be better than later, just because if I'm miserable, and surgery can make things better, which I hope with all my heart it can (otherwise why would I do it?), then why should I wait? As one of the doctors told me, there is no 'good time' for surgery.
The thing is that if I wanted to do the surgery this summer, it needed to happen soon if I was going to be ready to teach by 8/13. Considering it took me seven months from the time my pain started to actually see an orthopedist, that seemed rushed.
Other options:
- Have the surgery later and recover during school year. When I started this job, I was having trouble with my knee. I was worried I would need surgery and wouldn't be able to recover before the school year started. My brother told me not to worry, that students would feel sorry for me if I were on crutches, and be nicer. LOL. He recently had had surgery on his foot and interviewed for jobs on crutches and had gotten a job. (He is a federal prosecutor.)
- Have the surgery during the winter break. This would mean giving up the ski season, but at least not the end of summer.
- Have the surgery at the end of May next year. If I could do it early enough, that would leave most of the summer for at least semi-fun. Honestly, this would be my first choice, but I was worried about whether or not I could make it that long. I was soooo miserable the past year, and definitely felt I couldn't handle another year like the previous year. The cortisone shot made the pain much more manageable, and ideally I would have waited it out to see how long the effects lasted, but I didn't want to get to the beginning of the semester and find out the effects had worn off. Looking back, I think the chronic pain really took a toll on me. For one, it kept me from sleeping well, and I already have trouble sleeping, so I was basically crazy from lack of sleep. Ordinary pain relievers did nothing, and when I tried the more heavy duty stuff my PA prescribed for me, those made me crazy. (I almost had to cancel class one time because I felt so crazy.) I also stopped doing my favorite exercise, which is going on walks and walking to places as a mode of transportation, which made me crazy from feeling all gross and sedentary and put me in a bad mood for most of the semester.
After the Cortisone Injection
I had my post-cortisone injection follow-up with the orthopedist on 6/18, and it
ended up being an entire afternoon of... waiting. UGH! This is what I
hate, hate, HATE about orthopedists!
Anyway. As I told the doctor, the cortisone injection definitely helped, but. But. But. It wasn't what I had hoped for. On a pain scale of 1-10, prior to the injection, I'd been feeling 7-8 on a daily basis. After the injection, I was in a pretty steady holding pattern of 4-5ish, which was a major improvement. I could actually function at least somewhat normally and walk without a limp some of the time. I could also squat down, sit crisscross applesauce (formerly known as Indian style, lol), and get out of the bed in the morning without doing ten minutes of stretching; these were all things I hadn't been able to do in at least six or seven months. That was amazing. At the same time, there was still a low to medium-level nagging pain that I wasn't sure I could live with for the rest of my life. If I were 60 or 70, it would probably be okay. But... I'm not even 40!
After I had the injection, the medical assistant told me that I would probably feel very sore the next day, and that was normal, and that I would start to feel the effects of the shot after about three days. Interestingly, I was VERY SORE right after the shot, but woke up the next morning feeling AMAZING. I seriously got right out of bed and felt elated at how amazing I felt. I had not felt that amazing in several years. I mean, I was sore where the needle had been stuck, and the muscle around that area was also sore, but that was very minor considering the pain that I had been feeling in the joint itself. Based on what the medical assistant had told me, I was thinking it was the most ridiculous placebo effect ever. I figured I wanted this to work so bad I willed the pain away overnight. Unfortunately, the elation only lasted for a day, and the next day and the day after that (when I was supposedly supposed to start feeling the effects), I started to feel, eh, so-so again. Like I said, I definitely felt better than before, but... it was nothing to get that excited about.
I was surprised when the doctor asked me how I felt right after the injection. I told him it hurt like hell and I could barely walk and that I had no idea a shot could hurt so F-ing much. LOL. That's not what he meant, apparently, because then he asked me how I felt the day after the injection. I told him I felt AMAZING and thought I was cured. Then he said that was, in a way, a good thing, or at least good information. Then he explained that the day after the shot would be the height of the shot's effects. What I was feeling was the peak of the steroid's effects plus the residual effects of the numbing agent in the shot. The fact that that brought on so much relief at least confirms that the pain itself is coming from inside the hip joint. Thinking back, I recall that the orthopedist I saw in my 20s said that one way to confirm his suspicion of a labral tear was to have an anesthetic injected into my hip joint when I was feeling pain; if the anesthetic relieved the pain, it was likely a labral tear.
The fact that I responded well, but only extremely temporarily, to the injection, made him think I might benefit from surgery. Ugh. I mean, he wasn't pushy or anything; he reiterated that I just had to consider how much I could take and for how long. However, I should consider that what I felt right after the shot was the way things could be all the time. That was definitely food for thought. I've gone through good days and bad days with my hip, but I could not remember a time when I felt as awesome and pain-free as the day after the injection. To have that feeling all the time would be amazing. It is sort of like when I had foot pain in my 20s. The pain came and went and when the doctor told me I needed to wear a boot for six weeks, I wasn't thrilled. At the same time, once I got the boot, it felt amazing to be able to walk around pain-free. My foot had been hurting for so long I'd forgotten what normal was like.
The thing is that I had a totally scary picture in my mind of what surgery might be like and I'd never had an actual conversation with an orthopedist about it. The only surgeries I've had in my lifetime are a tonsillectomy and a D&C. (This is actually semi-miraculous for someone who did gymnastics for 13 years; the majority of my teammates had at least one surgery during their gymnastics careers.) I asked the doctor what the recovery time from surgery would be, thinking maybe it wasn't as huge a deal as I was imagining. A lot of web sites tell you the recovery time is six months, which is a long time. But the idea of 'recovery time' is vague. For example, it's unlikely I'd be willing to spend six months on crutches, but I could probably give up running marathons for six months (ha ha!).
Since this doctor doesn't do hip arthroscopy, he couldn't answer my questions. He said if he did, 'I'd just be making things up.' However, he did have an assistant come in and set up a consult appointment with the doctor who would do the surgery if I decided to go that route. He said that I might as well set up an appointment and get the facts so that I could make an informed decision as well as consider a 'good time' to do the surgery if I choose that. (Of course, he mentioned that there is no 'good time' just like there is no 'good time' to have kids, yet people have kids anyway. So there you go.)
So, I set up a surgical consult appointment the next week with another doctor - the one I had already met, who looks like he's, like, 20. At that point, I really didn't think I was going to go this route, at least not anytime soon, but I did want a 'get the facts' appointment, rather than relying on Dr. Google. Also, that pain-free day I spent post-injection was in the back of my mind. Wouldn't it be amazing to feel like that all the time?
Anyway. As I told the doctor, the cortisone injection definitely helped, but. But. But. It wasn't what I had hoped for. On a pain scale of 1-10, prior to the injection, I'd been feeling 7-8 on a daily basis. After the injection, I was in a pretty steady holding pattern of 4-5ish, which was a major improvement. I could actually function at least somewhat normally and walk without a limp some of the time. I could also squat down, sit crisscross applesauce (formerly known as Indian style, lol), and get out of the bed in the morning without doing ten minutes of stretching; these were all things I hadn't been able to do in at least six or seven months. That was amazing. At the same time, there was still a low to medium-level nagging pain that I wasn't sure I could live with for the rest of my life. If I were 60 or 70, it would probably be okay. But... I'm not even 40!
After I had the injection, the medical assistant told me that I would probably feel very sore the next day, and that was normal, and that I would start to feel the effects of the shot after about three days. Interestingly, I was VERY SORE right after the shot, but woke up the next morning feeling AMAZING. I seriously got right out of bed and felt elated at how amazing I felt. I had not felt that amazing in several years. I mean, I was sore where the needle had been stuck, and the muscle around that area was also sore, but that was very minor considering the pain that I had been feeling in the joint itself. Based on what the medical assistant had told me, I was thinking it was the most ridiculous placebo effect ever. I figured I wanted this to work so bad I willed the pain away overnight. Unfortunately, the elation only lasted for a day, and the next day and the day after that (when I was supposedly supposed to start feeling the effects), I started to feel, eh, so-so again. Like I said, I definitely felt better than before, but... it was nothing to get that excited about.
I was surprised when the doctor asked me how I felt right after the injection. I told him it hurt like hell and I could barely walk and that I had no idea a shot could hurt so F-ing much. LOL. That's not what he meant, apparently, because then he asked me how I felt the day after the injection. I told him I felt AMAZING and thought I was cured. Then he said that was, in a way, a good thing, or at least good information. Then he explained that the day after the shot would be the height of the shot's effects. What I was feeling was the peak of the steroid's effects plus the residual effects of the numbing agent in the shot. The fact that that brought on so much relief at least confirms that the pain itself is coming from inside the hip joint. Thinking back, I recall that the orthopedist I saw in my 20s said that one way to confirm his suspicion of a labral tear was to have an anesthetic injected into my hip joint when I was feeling pain; if the anesthetic relieved the pain, it was likely a labral tear.
The fact that I responded well, but only extremely temporarily, to the injection, made him think I might benefit from surgery. Ugh. I mean, he wasn't pushy or anything; he reiterated that I just had to consider how much I could take and for how long. However, I should consider that what I felt right after the shot was the way things could be all the time. That was definitely food for thought. I've gone through good days and bad days with my hip, but I could not remember a time when I felt as awesome and pain-free as the day after the injection. To have that feeling all the time would be amazing. It is sort of like when I had foot pain in my 20s. The pain came and went and when the doctor told me I needed to wear a boot for six weeks, I wasn't thrilled. At the same time, once I got the boot, it felt amazing to be able to walk around pain-free. My foot had been hurting for so long I'd forgotten what normal was like.
The thing is that I had a totally scary picture in my mind of what surgery might be like and I'd never had an actual conversation with an orthopedist about it. The only surgeries I've had in my lifetime are a tonsillectomy and a D&C. (This is actually semi-miraculous for someone who did gymnastics for 13 years; the majority of my teammates had at least one surgery during their gymnastics careers.) I asked the doctor what the recovery time from surgery would be, thinking maybe it wasn't as huge a deal as I was imagining. A lot of web sites tell you the recovery time is six months, which is a long time. But the idea of 'recovery time' is vague. For example, it's unlikely I'd be willing to spend six months on crutches, but I could probably give up running marathons for six months (ha ha!).
Since this doctor doesn't do hip arthroscopy, he couldn't answer my questions. He said if he did, 'I'd just be making things up.' However, he did have an assistant come in and set up a consult appointment with the doctor who would do the surgery if I decided to go that route. He said that I might as well set up an appointment and get the facts so that I could make an informed decision as well as consider a 'good time' to do the surgery if I choose that. (Of course, he mentioned that there is no 'good time' just like there is no 'good time' to have kids, yet people have kids anyway. So there you go.)
So, I set up a surgical consult appointment the next week with another doctor - the one I had already met, who looks like he's, like, 20. At that point, I really didn't think I was going to go this route, at least not anytime soon, but I did want a 'get the facts' appointment, rather than relying on Dr. Google. Also, that pain-free day I spent post-injection was in the back of my mind. Wouldn't it be amazing to feel like that all the time?
The Cortisone Injection
I had an amazing, relaxing vacation with my best friend from college and her family. I did a lot of lying around and drinking pear sangria. This is a new favorite for me. My friend's husband recently finished his Ph.D. and they threw a party during which they drank this stuff by the gallon. (If you are curious, it is one cup of Grey Goose pear vodka, one cup of Hpnotiq, 750 ml of pino grigio, topped off with lemonade.) Unfortunately, airplane travel was the absolute worst, especially when you add
in hauling a 100-pound car seat around. (I have two kids - an eight-year-old and a two-year-old.) By the time
we got back on Saturday, 5/31, I
could barely walk. I had to stop and rest three times between the airplane and the baggage claim, and I thought I might actually pass out because my hip hurt so bad. At that point, June 5th, the day I was scheduled for my injection, could not come soon enough.
The night before the injection, I worked myself up into a semi-tizzy by staying up late and spending way too much time consulting Dr. Google about cortisone injections. Low stress tolerance is such a curse. Seriously, it's an injection, get over it. I barely slept at all, and furthermore, I am not sure what happened, but somehow the appointment that I actually watched the orthopedist's medical assistant enter into the computer myself did not actually get entered. Or something? I'm just glad I noticed that I didn't have an appointment when I logged onto the patient portal before I drove 20 minutes to the office. To make a long story short, I had to throw a hissy fit to get an appointment. I actually started crying, although I'm not sure if that was apparent on the phone. (Despite the fact that I am often a basket case, I don't actually cry that much. Outwardly I am very stoic, or so people say.) Even though I was far from looking forward to the injection, I reeeeaallly needed some relief from my pain and I had been anticipating this for two weeks. Obviously a torn labrum is not life threatening or even an orthopedic emergency, but the pain was affecting my daily life to the extent that I felt some sense of urgency. While I was dreading the injection itself, I definitely saw it as something that I Had To Do, simply because my current physical state was not acceptable to me, and the injection was the one thing that was offered to me to make things better, aside from surgery.
So after my hissy fit, I went in at 2:45 in the afternoon and was prepared for a long wait. Orthopedists are notorious for running late, and in my experience, appointments late in the day are usually worse. Plus, according to the Internet, the average wait for the doctor who was doing my injection was 30-45 minutes! I was worried that the 50 or so pages I had left in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time wouldn't be enough, but I ended up getting in right away. The doctor must do so many injections he can do one in ten minutes, and that includes the time it takes for me to walk back, pull down my skirt, and cover up with a blanket.
The doctor was fine. He introduced himself as Dr. Crazy-Long-Polish-Name-With-Lots-Of-SZ's-And-CZ's but said, 'You can call me Dr. Joe.' He asked me if I'd ever had an injection before, and when I said no, he briefly explained the procedure. Then he mentioned he had tried to pull up my X-rays but couldn't find them, and asked why I was getting the injection. That made me sort of nervous, but... at least he asked. Dr. Joe then went on to explain that the injection would take 30 seconds and I would feel burning in my leg, and possibly all the way down to my foot; that was normal. While he was explaining it, I sort of felt like 30 seconds wasn't that long. As in... my interpretation of it was, Hey, relax, this will be over in 30 seconds. However, in retrospect, I realize that was a warning - You are going to feel burning in your leg for 30 seconds! After all, think about it, most shots take, what, three seconds? I never really thought about it before, although it did bring back a memory of when I somehow got a gig coaching the synchronized swimming team in grad school. (I know nothing about synchronized swimming.) At shows, the swimmers would ask everyone in the audience to try to hold their breath for a minute, and it makes you realize how long a minute is and how impressive it is when those gals are under water for minutes at a time.
Anyway, Dr. Joe and his assistant got the ultrasound going and he turned the screen toward me and described the parts - however, despite knowing a fair amount of anatomy, I don't understand those ultrasounds. (I never have. I had a very difficult pregnancy with my daughter and had to have an ultrasound every week, yet I never could figure out what all the parts were.) The assistant sprayed cold stuff on my skin and then Dr. Joe plunged the needle in. It was at that point that I realized the significance of the This takes 30 seconds talk. My immediate reaction was to want to scream, but instead I just pulled my hands up to my face and covered my mouth and fake screamed into my hands. My other knee-jerk reaction was that I wanted to pull my leg away from the pain that was going down it, but apparently Dr. Joe is experienced and must have been lying on my leg or something, because I couldn't move it. After what seemed like forever, he said, '20 more seconds' and then after what seemed like forever again, he said, '10 more seconds,' and then... it was done.
Eventually, Dr. Joe said, 'It's done, you can breathe now.' Then added, 'Or scream.' I seriously felt so unprepared for how bad a stupid F-ing injection could hurt, it was sort of embarrassing. Then he said something along the lines of goodbye and I was thinking, OMG I have to sit up and walk out of here?! Then, as if he were reading my mind, he said, 'There's a numbing agent that should kick in in about 30 seconds.'
In the end, I was fine, I was just a little traumatized by how much it actually hurt. And the pain was probably only horrid in that it was like nothing I'd ever felt before - sort of like child birth, only for a fraction of the time. A friend, who had a cortisone shot in her wrist, described it as 'It felt like the needle itself was getting pushed all the way across my wrist.' That's a pretty accurate description, I'd say. But hey, at least it only lasted for 30 seconds! After the appointment, I prayed and prayed and prayed to all sorts of powers I may or may not even believe in, that this would be the cure for me. I also went by the liquor store on the way home and bought a gigantic bottle of wine.
The night before the injection, I worked myself up into a semi-tizzy by staying up late and spending way too much time consulting Dr. Google about cortisone injections. Low stress tolerance is such a curse. Seriously, it's an injection, get over it. I barely slept at all, and furthermore, I am not sure what happened, but somehow the appointment that I actually watched the orthopedist's medical assistant enter into the computer myself did not actually get entered. Or something? I'm just glad I noticed that I didn't have an appointment when I logged onto the patient portal before I drove 20 minutes to the office. To make a long story short, I had to throw a hissy fit to get an appointment. I actually started crying, although I'm not sure if that was apparent on the phone. (Despite the fact that I am often a basket case, I don't actually cry that much. Outwardly I am very stoic, or so people say.) Even though I was far from looking forward to the injection, I reeeeaallly needed some relief from my pain and I had been anticipating this for two weeks. Obviously a torn labrum is not life threatening or even an orthopedic emergency, but the pain was affecting my daily life to the extent that I felt some sense of urgency. While I was dreading the injection itself, I definitely saw it as something that I Had To Do, simply because my current physical state was not acceptable to me, and the injection was the one thing that was offered to me to make things better, aside from surgery.
So after my hissy fit, I went in at 2:45 in the afternoon and was prepared for a long wait. Orthopedists are notorious for running late, and in my experience, appointments late in the day are usually worse. Plus, according to the Internet, the average wait for the doctor who was doing my injection was 30-45 minutes! I was worried that the 50 or so pages I had left in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time wouldn't be enough, but I ended up getting in right away. The doctor must do so many injections he can do one in ten minutes, and that includes the time it takes for me to walk back, pull down my skirt, and cover up with a blanket.
The doctor was fine. He introduced himself as Dr. Crazy-Long-Polish-Name-With-Lots-Of-SZ's-And-CZ's but said, 'You can call me Dr. Joe.' He asked me if I'd ever had an injection before, and when I said no, he briefly explained the procedure. Then he mentioned he had tried to pull up my X-rays but couldn't find them, and asked why I was getting the injection. That made me sort of nervous, but... at least he asked. Dr. Joe then went on to explain that the injection would take 30 seconds and I would feel burning in my leg, and possibly all the way down to my foot; that was normal. While he was explaining it, I sort of felt like 30 seconds wasn't that long. As in... my interpretation of it was, Hey, relax, this will be over in 30 seconds. However, in retrospect, I realize that was a warning - You are going to feel burning in your leg for 30 seconds! After all, think about it, most shots take, what, three seconds? I never really thought about it before, although it did bring back a memory of when I somehow got a gig coaching the synchronized swimming team in grad school. (I know nothing about synchronized swimming.) At shows, the swimmers would ask everyone in the audience to try to hold their breath for a minute, and it makes you realize how long a minute is and how impressive it is when those gals are under water for minutes at a time.
Anyway, Dr. Joe and his assistant got the ultrasound going and he turned the screen toward me and described the parts - however, despite knowing a fair amount of anatomy, I don't understand those ultrasounds. (I never have. I had a very difficult pregnancy with my daughter and had to have an ultrasound every week, yet I never could figure out what all the parts were.) The assistant sprayed cold stuff on my skin and then Dr. Joe plunged the needle in. It was at that point that I realized the significance of the This takes 30 seconds talk. My immediate reaction was to want to scream, but instead I just pulled my hands up to my face and covered my mouth and fake screamed into my hands. My other knee-jerk reaction was that I wanted to pull my leg away from the pain that was going down it, but apparently Dr. Joe is experienced and must have been lying on my leg or something, because I couldn't move it. After what seemed like forever, he said, '20 more seconds' and then after what seemed like forever again, he said, '10 more seconds,' and then... it was done.
Eventually, Dr. Joe said, 'It's done, you can breathe now.' Then added, 'Or scream.' I seriously felt so unprepared for how bad a stupid F-ing injection could hurt, it was sort of embarrassing. Then he said something along the lines of goodbye and I was thinking, OMG I have to sit up and walk out of here?! Then, as if he were reading my mind, he said, 'There's a numbing agent that should kick in in about 30 seconds.'
In the end, I was fine, I was just a little traumatized by how much it actually hurt. And the pain was probably only horrid in that it was like nothing I'd ever felt before - sort of like child birth, only for a fraction of the time. A friend, who had a cortisone shot in her wrist, described it as 'It felt like the needle itself was getting pushed all the way across my wrist.' That's a pretty accurate description, I'd say. But hey, at least it only lasted for 30 seconds! After the appointment, I prayed and prayed and prayed to all sorts of powers I may or may not even believe in, that this would be the cure for me. I also went by the liquor store on the way home and bought a gigantic bottle of wine.
First Visit with the Orthopedist
I finally went to see an orthopedist on 5/22/14, nearly seven months after the pain started. My PA recommended me to a specific doctor within a group of
orthopedists, probably based on how needy/picky/easily freaked out I am;
of course I Googled him and was at least satisfied with his credentials
on paper, ha ha. However, when I called to make an appointment,
appointment woman suggested switching me to a different doctor who
specializes in hips. Being that I am paranoid, I figured she was
switching me to the least busy doctor, who in my mind was probably the
worst. I looked the new guy up and saw that he specializes in hip replacements, so I figured either everyone
knew something I didn't or the guy was going to push hip replacement on
me. (Clearly there is some leftover trauma from my trip to the orthopedist 15 years ago.) I felt really uneasy and stressed out about the whole thing, which again, was for no particular reason except my insanely miniscule level of tolerance for stress.
Fortunately, it wasn't that bad. In fact, it was just about the best news I could have hoped for at the time. The doctor was actually very nice and took the time to thoroughly explain things. He told me that aside from the torn labrum, my hip actually looked pretty good - no signs of arthritis or instability or imminent oh-my-god-your-hip-is-going-to-break danger. He also did a few tests and mentioned that I had very good range of motion (which I should, because I stretch religiously, about 10 times a day, because it's the only thing that keeps me in motion). What that meant was that we could proceed with just treating the symptoms - i.e., the pain - and there was no immediate need to treat the cause of the pain - i.e., fix the labrum with surgery. Of course, if treating the pain didn't work, I should obviously consider the surgery, but he wasn't like OMG YOU NEED A TOTAL HIP REPLACEMENT RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW OR YOU ARE GOING TO DIIIIIIEEEEE! In fact, he basically told me that since my hip looked pretty good, the course of treatment should be what I felt was right based on how much pain I could tolerate for how long, how much it was affecting my lifestyle, and so on. He said that if the pain could be managed, it was quite possible I might never need surgery. (!!!) He did mention my shallow hip sockets but didn't seem to think it was a problem, it was just something to make a note of.
I agreed to get a cortisone injection to see if that helped. On a side note, it's worth mentioning that I had just gotten back from a three-day trip to Mexico and had two days at home before heading out on a 10-day vacation with my family. Plane travel was horrid for my hip, and I was really hurting at that point. I was hoping I might be able to get some quick relief before going on vacation, but given my tight time frame, that was hoping for a lot. Apparently they don't just plunge a needle into your hip (which to be honest I was sort of dreading); they actually numb you up and use ultrasound to deliver the cortisone a precise spot, and there is actual skill involved, especially when the injection is into a joint. (I read this on the Internet after my appointment.) So the injection required an appointment with a doctor who specializes in doing injections - one who doesn't work on Fridays. At least the vacation was a sit-on-the-beach type vacation and not one with a lot of activity planned.
The doctor told me to keep a pain journal before and after the injection so we could try to accurately assess how much it helped, or didn't help. He said that if it didn't help, he was going to have me see another doctor in the practice, one who specializes in hip arthroscopy. Then he actually introduced me to that doctor, probably because he could tell I was freaking out. The other doctor seemed very nice, too, although I'm pretty sure he was half my age. Okay, so obviously not literally, ha ha, but he was young - like, as young as an orthopedist can be - which made me feel old. They both mentioned that even if the injection helped, but didn't last long enough, I might want to consider surgery. I asked what 'long enough' was, and they said that was up to me - to consider how much it helped, how inconvenient getting the injection was, etc. (At that point I was thinking how bad can an injection be? Little did I know.)
I was slightly wary of the injection because my uncle actually died of a massive heart attack right after getting a cortisone injection, but rationally I know that's a personal anecdote and not a scientific reason to fear something. (Nevertheless, someone has to be the statistical anomaly, and it sucks if it's you.) Also, I got home and of course Googled cortisone injections, and read that there was a possibility it could make the pain worse. Apparently there is a possible side effect that involves the injection crystallizing and causing severe pain, so although I was worried about my pain level on vacation, I also thought maybe it was good not to have the injection the day before leaving the state. I also stumbled upon a message board with all sorts of cortisone injection horror stories, but I always view message boards in sort of the same way I view things like RateMyProfessors.com; they only tell a fraction of a story.
I left the appointment feeling very optimistic. I was thrilled at the prospect that an injection might help for several months or even a year or maybe even indefinitely, if it could reduce the inflammation to a point where it didn't return for a very long time. Apparently long-term relief is a realistic possibility, so my fingers and toes and eyes and everything that can cross were crossed. After all, it was likely I'd had a torn labrum for over a decade, yet it wasn't always that painful. Most of all, I really appreciated that it was all presented to me as MY DECISION, what /I/ was okay with. Also, knowing that aside from the tear in my cartilage, I was more or less healthy and wasn't doing any major damage by walking around, even as much as it hurt, was a huge relief. It made the pain much easier to deal with.
Fortunately, it wasn't that bad. In fact, it was just about the best news I could have hoped for at the time. The doctor was actually very nice and took the time to thoroughly explain things. He told me that aside from the torn labrum, my hip actually looked pretty good - no signs of arthritis or instability or imminent oh-my-god-your-hip-is-going-to-break danger. He also did a few tests and mentioned that I had very good range of motion (which I should, because I stretch religiously, about 10 times a day, because it's the only thing that keeps me in motion). What that meant was that we could proceed with just treating the symptoms - i.e., the pain - and there was no immediate need to treat the cause of the pain - i.e., fix the labrum with surgery. Of course, if treating the pain didn't work, I should obviously consider the surgery, but he wasn't like OMG YOU NEED A TOTAL HIP REPLACEMENT RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW OR YOU ARE GOING TO DIIIIIIEEEEE! In fact, he basically told me that since my hip looked pretty good, the course of treatment should be what I felt was right based on how much pain I could tolerate for how long, how much it was affecting my lifestyle, and so on. He said that if the pain could be managed, it was quite possible I might never need surgery. (!!!) He did mention my shallow hip sockets but didn't seem to think it was a problem, it was just something to make a note of.
I agreed to get a cortisone injection to see if that helped. On a side note, it's worth mentioning that I had just gotten back from a three-day trip to Mexico and had two days at home before heading out on a 10-day vacation with my family. Plane travel was horrid for my hip, and I was really hurting at that point. I was hoping I might be able to get some quick relief before going on vacation, but given my tight time frame, that was hoping for a lot. Apparently they don't just plunge a needle into your hip (which to be honest I was sort of dreading); they actually numb you up and use ultrasound to deliver the cortisone a precise spot, and there is actual skill involved, especially when the injection is into a joint. (I read this on the Internet after my appointment.) So the injection required an appointment with a doctor who specializes in doing injections - one who doesn't work on Fridays. At least the vacation was a sit-on-the-beach type vacation and not one with a lot of activity planned.
The doctor told me to keep a pain journal before and after the injection so we could try to accurately assess how much it helped, or didn't help. He said that if it didn't help, he was going to have me see another doctor in the practice, one who specializes in hip arthroscopy. Then he actually introduced me to that doctor, probably because he could tell I was freaking out. The other doctor seemed very nice, too, although I'm pretty sure he was half my age. Okay, so obviously not literally, ha ha, but he was young - like, as young as an orthopedist can be - which made me feel old. They both mentioned that even if the injection helped, but didn't last long enough, I might want to consider surgery. I asked what 'long enough' was, and they said that was up to me - to consider how much it helped, how inconvenient getting the injection was, etc. (At that point I was thinking how bad can an injection be? Little did I know.)
I was slightly wary of the injection because my uncle actually died of a massive heart attack right after getting a cortisone injection, but rationally I know that's a personal anecdote and not a scientific reason to fear something. (Nevertheless, someone has to be the statistical anomaly, and it sucks if it's you.) Also, I got home and of course Googled cortisone injections, and read that there was a possibility it could make the pain worse. Apparently there is a possible side effect that involves the injection crystallizing and causing severe pain, so although I was worried about my pain level on vacation, I also thought maybe it was good not to have the injection the day before leaving the state. I also stumbled upon a message board with all sorts of cortisone injection horror stories, but I always view message boards in sort of the same way I view things like RateMyProfessors.com; they only tell a fraction of a story.
I left the appointment feeling very optimistic. I was thrilled at the prospect that an injection might help for several months or even a year or maybe even indefinitely, if it could reduce the inflammation to a point where it didn't return for a very long time. Apparently long-term relief is a realistic possibility, so my fingers and toes and eyes and everything that can cross were crossed. After all, it was likely I'd had a torn labrum for over a decade, yet it wasn't always that painful. Most of all, I really appreciated that it was all presented to me as MY DECISION, what /I/ was okay with. Also, knowing that aside from the tear in my cartilage, I was more or less healthy and wasn't doing any major damage by walking around, even as much as it hurt, was a huge relief. It made the pain much easier to deal with.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)