i'mnotoldi'mnotoldi'mnotold

Considering that I'll be 65 next spring, perhaps I am old. But I don't feel old, I don't think old, I don't look old, and I don't act old. So I'm not old, amirite? (See, I even know how to use young-folk slang appropriately!)

Maybe I do look old – grey hair is creeping into my temples and I sport crow's feet wrinkles laugh lines on my face – but I swear I don't feel or think or act old.

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."

Huh.

Imagine that.

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?

[Injections provide only temporary relief, 10 to 12 days. And I know there are other conditions that require hip replacements in young people. In fact I know someone who had one when he was in his 30s.]

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!

30 days

I just took a look at my Daily Mile dashboard, and I last recorded a walk 30 days ago. I had no idea it had been so long. I've been telling myself a couple of weeks. Maybe three.

I stopped walking because my hip hurt. I continued to do four miles a day as long as I could, but those days consisted of whatever I had to do before the walk, followed by the walk, followed by resting. Sometimes for the remainder of the day.

It finally occurred to me that walking was aggravating the pain, and I needed to stop. I put on my big-girl running shorts and made a doctor's appointment. And went to it yesterday.

Where I learned that I am, apparently, officially, old. And maybe I should change the name of this blog again.

Not my own personal hip x-ray, but illustrative of my problem.

I had two x-rays that cost more than my first car and way more than my new dishwasher, and learned that I have a misalignment of my spine, along with some degenerative disc disease, and a cartilage deficiency in my right hip. Bone on bone.

I saw the Physician's Assistant instead of my family doctor, and she was great. She knows my history and said, "We see this a lot in athletes, both men and women." Athlete! She called me an athlete! As I've mentioned to a few friends, at least I didn't lose all that cartilage by being a slug.

But still. No cartilage = no cushioning, and until you experience it personally you really have no idea of the pain. I've tried all the recommended OTC pain relievers; ibuprofen seems to do the best job for me.

What I haven't been doing is exercising. To me, exercise is walking. Both the PA and Dr. Google recommend stretching. I also learned that yoga, bicycling and swimming may be beneficial. I don't have a bike, nor do I swim, so I'll be taking advantage of the apps on our new smarter-than-I-am TV to find some gentle yoga routines.

The other word for what I have is osteoarthritis – such an old-lady word. I'm not old. In fact I'm so not old that I have to pay for those expensive x-rays out of pocket, because I haven't met my insurance deductible and I'm too young for Medicare.

I see my family doctor week after next to discuss treatment options. There's no cure for osteoarthritis, but I've been assured by Dr. Google that I can live a long and comfortable life. Heh.

My grandmother had it, along with osteoporosis and COPD. She sat in a chair the last 10 years of her life, tethered to an oxygen tank watching soap operas. That, of course, is what I think of when I hear the word 'osteoarthritis.'

But my bones are dense and my lungs are clear. I only have a third of her problems. My total mileage for the year may be stalled at 624, but I'm certainly in better health than she was, and I've taken better care of myself than she did.

I'm trying to find the bright side.

It's a cartilage deficiency.

Not brain cancer.