What can I say? I'm stubborn, mule-headed, ornery. Sometimes it has its benefits. Other times I'm not really sure. Lately there has been some doubt. For longer than I can remember, my hips have felt somewhat off. I couldn't ever put my finger on it. Until just a short time ago. I forced myself to stay still through an MRI (man, are those machines outrageously noisy!) and then was told the heads of my femurs aren't quite shaped right. That means part of them rub against the hip joint socket abnormally. Well then. And since I always need more excitement in my life, the orthopedic and I decided me seeing the surgeon was my best option. I mean, let's face it, I've already done conservative treatment for hips- ridiculous amounts of physical therapy (to the point that I consider the 2 PTs I saw to now be my friends- we're *that* tight). So why not go under the knife? I mean, really!
Bottom line, I want to run free again. I want to not feel that pinching at the front of my hips when I swim laps. I want to not be afraid to go on a hike with my small children and wonder how much uphill I can manage before I feel the pain and stiffness yet again. I want to help my husband get ready for bow hunting by spending time in the mountains with him. I want to make it through 3 hours of church every Sunday without suffering for it the rest of the day. I want to be able to go to bed without a good 30-40 minutes of massage rolling in the exact same spots every. single. night. I just want to feel like an active woman in her late 30's ought to! Is that really too much to ask? According to me, nope. So I'm not stopping until I've exhausted all my options. This is when I wonder if my stubborness is a crux.
I have the kind of husband every sensible woman dreams of. He's tall, dark, and handsome. He loves me and thinks I'm hot even with my saggy post-3-children belly skin and genetically-cursed varicose veins on my legs. He goes out of his way to make me happy. He's been at almost every marathon finish line- with the kids (if you've ever been to one and you're not the one running, talk about booooooring!). He's going to take time off work to be home when I have my ominous and outright scary surgery. He, the ever-tight wad,consented to us spending $900 on a golden retriever puppy because I all-of-a-sudden fell in love with the neighbor's puppies (I'm very much NOT a pet person and have been resisting the idea of getting a dog for an inordinate amount of time even though everyone else in the house wants one). So yeah, he's pretty awesome. Yes, he's human- very much so. But I love him and am blown away by the fact that he still loves me. If that doesn't show his strength of character, I don't know what does!
Why do I mention my manly man in all of this? He hasn't once said he thinks I'm overdoing it by wanting surgery. He hasn't once asked me to stop chasing my dreams (has he helped temper them to the realms of reality?- yes). I wouldn't be able to even continue in my mule-headed ways if it wasn't for him. Now whether that's for my ultimate benefit of detriment, time will tell, but he really is my better half. And, I might as well mention, he actually might be more stubborn than me. I cold write a whole book on that, but today is not that day.
So here I am, biding time until I have my consultation with the surgeon in about 2 1/2 weeks. Thankfully I have a move and a family wedding to keep me extremely occupied until then. But even so, time can sure creep along at a snail's pace. Patience and I have a dysfunctional relationship.
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