Maybe I do look old – grey hair is creeping into my temples and I sport
I keep up with current music (thanks, Pandora!), although I didn't watch the VMAs. But I don't watch videos much, anyway. That's not an age indictment. That's a preference. I keep an open mind, try to catch myself when I'm judgmental, stay teachable. I think those are all qualities of a younger mind and personality.
By now you've both noticed I haven't mentioned that pesky right hip that's been bothering me.
I might, actually, be old after all.
I watched as the radiology report came up on the monitor in my doctor's office.
Diagnosis: Marked osteoarthritis.
Dr. C turned from the screen and, without even looking at the images, said, "You need a total hip replacement."
When you look at the X-ray, you can't tell where the ball of the hip ends and the socket begins. They appear to be fused together. [They aren't; that's just how it looks.] And I know they're not fused because I can hear them grinding on each other when I move.
Grinding. That's a word Dr. C used a lot yesterday.
"The reason your hip hurts so much in the evening is because you've been grinding the joint all day."
"Rowing, walking, biking … they all still will cause grinding of the ball and socket."
"You won't cause any more damage by waiting. The grinding action of continued activity will cause pain, but the damage is done."
Honestly? I thought I'd go in, he'd prescribe some physical therapy, maybe an injection, and I'd be on my merry way. Because only old people have hip replacements, AMIRITE?
Bone on bone doesn't heal itself with physical therapy. Treatment: Total hip replacement. I hope to wait until next spring to have it done. Because next spring I'll be 65. Medicare, baby! I'll be old!