Happy anniversary, hip surgery!
Today is one year since I had my hip arthroscopy surgery after tearing my hamstring and hip labrum years before. In that time, this blog went from being about running to being about fitness to just being about injury and recovery. Honestly, it was hard to focus on anything else.
I guess I do post about some hiking too, though I did neglect to write about our Pikes Peak descent. I at least mentioned that when I wrote about the madness of October on my author blog.
So where am I a year later? Did the surgery work? Am I recovered?
Um… kind of? Not much has changed since 6 months after.
My pain is SO MUCH better. Before the surgery, I had an unbearable wave of pain every time I transitioned from sitting to standing or the reverse. I would have to grip onto something and breathe through it before settling into the new position. I could not sleep through the night. I would need to get up several times to reset my hip then search for the perfect angle to fall back asleep to then wake up and repeat. I couldn’t hold my kids or have them sit on my lap because the pressure of their minuscule weight made it unbearable. The pain was so intense and relentless that it was detrimental to my behavior, affected my personality.
All of that is gone. That alone made the surgery worth it, even considering the amount I had to pay out of pocket.
What remains is a lingering, nagging, and inconsistent pain. Some weeks, it will persist and build enough to make me think the rehab did not work or I have re-injured it. Then it just vanishes again. Some days, I think I’m almost healed.
But it is never all the way gone. There is always a twinge, an ache when I’m sitting, a movement that lights up the joint. Any hint triggers panic and depression, but on the average, it is much improved.
Just not cured. Just not completely healed.
After a year, I think this is just life now. I think this is as good as it gets. I wish I could go back to that moment when I slid down into the splits and lifted my hands. I wish I could snatch my muscles around my hip before it rolled out of joint. But there is no going back.
I did get back on the slopes this year. I was advised not to ski last season (an epic snow year) by my physical therapist, and it was heartbreaking. I even sat in the lodge drinking and writing while my children skied for my daughter’s birthday.
I found myself so gun-shy, uncharacteristically nervous on the slopes. I have been on skis since I was three; I am rarely shaken by the top of a run (unless it’s an accidental double black diamond). Every turn and bump had me flinching. Would I catch an edge and yank my leg in the wrong direction? Would I jump or bump and slam my hip into joint (as if it would be any more than running)? Would I fall?
Then, once I calmed down, it was glorious. I skied only a couple hours and gently, but I had missed it. It felt good to be back on the slopes, on skies, in the snow. It felt more normal. And I have proven to myself that I can do it again.
At this point, I’ll take better but not perfect. Now, I just have to keep myself from injuring myself again. Because it’s always me. I always push too hard. I get to a good place and drive for more, grind my body until it snaps. I need this hip experience to be my lessen, to temper my impulsive extremism. Injuries will only get harder to heal as I seem to age faster by the day.