Go On, Poke My Hip Again...And Watch Your Fingers Get Bitten Off.

Oh, I went to the physical therapist today. We decided that it was best to focus on my biggest problem first; namely, the right hip. I can live with the shoulder pain, but the hip is needed for getting to class.

So, what does the therapist do but what all doctors do these days when encountered with me? POKE. ME. Like a bloody cantaloupe in the store. Like testing out how soft a pillow is.

He found the spot where the problem was, all right. And then he proceeded to KEEP poking at it, as if my pain levels were going to change in the ten seconds he'd been off poking something else. As if me practically gnawing the back of my knuckles off in agony wasn't enough of an indication that he'd found the problem spot...

And then he told me to stay off the damn thing as much as possible the next little while. As I walk on it from day to day I am not helping heal the problem; merely keeping it going. It's going to take forever to heal if I keep walking on it. Taking the pressure off of the hip even a little bit should let the inflamed part of the joint go back to normal and I should be able to function like normal again.

This is logical and all, but how does one stop walking to CLASS? Hopefully the Uni vans will be able to actually pick me up on time and such stuff, or I'm going to be spending a lot of time parking it somewhere until my next class.

And wouldn't you know, when I'd finished at his office, what did I have to do but exactly what he told me NOT to do: walk. I had to walk back to campus because the bus never showed up to pick me up. So I just made the problem worse.

I also found out I inherited yet another trait from my mother; her flat feet. My feet aren't as flat as hers, but mine are noticeably flatter than the average person's. It causes me to twist my ankles funny when I walk because my arches collapse too much, which makes the muscles and joints of my hips have to work harder to compensate. Hence the problem in the hip is increased by my screwed-up anatomy. Lucky me.

I need corrective shoes for the problem; ones that won't let my ankles do funny twisty things every time I take a step.

I'm thinking of moving to shoes instead of sandals tomorrow. Possibly I could help the hip problem by a good bit of cushioning on those feet. With my fingers back, I could even tie my laces (if I had them).

Oi. As I told the therapist today, I am a messy knot of problems.

That's about it. I have to ride tomorrow instead of walking around. I promised the therapist. yippee!

Ta,
Bec