searing pain

I always look forward to coming home and sleeping in my own bed.  I just hadn't planned on spending so much time in it.

Tuesday night, Jean and Jim take us all out to eat at a fabulous new restaurant called Water Street Kitchen in Woods Hole. Everything we order — from drinks to appetizers to entrees to desserts — is excellent. The menu is small, but not one thing on it disappoints. It's a great send-off to a nice vacation.

But that night, I awake with severe pain near my left hip. It keeps me up the whole night, and by morning, it has gotten no better.

I can barely walk. But three Advils give me some relief and I'm able to make the flight home.

As soon as I'm in my apartment, I drop my stuff and crawl into bed. Then I call my doctor and make an appointment for tomorrow. The pain is debilitating. Honestly, the worst pain I think I've ever experienced, including child birth. At 6:30 I fall asleep, mostly to escape the acute and constant pain. I sleep fitfully until 7.

With much effort I get into the shower. But soon I start to feel dizzy — from not eating the day before, I think. I can't really lift my left leg to get out, and fall. I'm lying wet on the bathroom floor, not knowing how I'm going to get up. After a few minutes of doing nothing, I gingerly and painfully get up and drag myself back to bed.

I call Robyn, my kind and reliable neighbor who lives in the building next door. She is leaving for work, but before I finish my sentence that I need her help, she is here. When I say, "Don't worry, it's not contagious," she shouts, "DID YOU HEAR ME ASK YOU IF YOU  ARE CONTAGIOUS?" She's such a good friend.

She makes me toast (as I don't have the strength to make it into the kitchen) and hangs out a while to make sure I'm okay. The food and two Advils help.

I am able to make it to the doctor who diagnoses me quickly, "Trochanteric bursitis."

"It should go away by itself in a few weeks," the doctor tells me. The only treatment is two Aleve, twice a day, and icing. A few weeks seems like an eternity. And when I check online, for some people it's years, or never. I couldn't live like this. I am already contemplating surgery and it's only day one.

I call my Director at work and tell him the news: I won't be working the next three days  (and I don't think I get paid when sick, unless I don't take 6 days vacation). 

I can't charge my computer (on my desk) because there's no way I can bend down to plug it in. Nor can I pick up anything off the floor. Putting on a pair of shorts is impossible. The smallest effort takes so much energy that I debate doing the simplest activity. 

Should I put this dish and glass in the dishwasher now or just leave them in the sink? 

Should I put moisturizer on my face, though what's the harm in skipping a day?

Should I pick up the package that my doorman says he has, or wait until tomorrow?  I'll wait.

Should I unpack my small bag... nope, that can wait too. 

I am in so much pain and every movement seems to exacerbate it.

Now even the top of my right foot and right shoulder hurt from my fall this morning.

I'm  back in bed writing this, feeling pretty miserable. I was fine two days ago and I'm a total mess today. I feel like  I've aged 30 years overnight.


Friday morning:

Wake up to a totally new day.

The fierce pain is gone. I slept through the night.

Have much more movement today than yesterday. I can even bend my knee without any discomfort. I still walk cautiously and uncomfortably, but no wincing with every step.

Will continue to ice, but may skip the Aleve. I am optimistic that improvement will continue.

I have a new appreciation of what real pain feels like. I am so lucky it's gone.