A little background for the three readers (I exaggerate) who haven't known me for eight thousand years. I have a little something called Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. This is for those of us who believe in aging backwards so as to get the unpleasant aspects out of the way. Or some sort of autoimmune disorder, its hard to say. Regardless, when I was fourteen, had delightfully thin arms and was sporting an unfortunate unibrow, I had a double hip replacement surgery. You may think this sounds sad, but trust me, its been an amazing blessing in my life. I always have something to bond over with old people, I beep cheerfully in airport security, and I almost always win in who's got the coolest scar contests. Plus, you know. I can walk. Thats been pretty sweet.
Having major surgeries always come with pro and con lists. Pro: You can walk like a normal person! Con: You must never ever bungee jump. Pro: You're two inches taller! Con: You will never realize your Olympic dreams as a gymnast because you are not allowed to do the splits. Pro: You learned how to pluck your eyebrows! Con: Oh yeah, sometimes your hips might pop out of their sockets.
That last one was the biggie, the reason behind all my new found don't's, (don't cross your legs, don't sit indian style don't try to land a double front flip off the uneven bars...) Because at any moment an extreme position might send one of my new hips right out of their reinforced titanium sockets. I gravely agreed, and with great care and concern I stepped out into the world. It was worth the trade. I was very careful when I first got them, watching and waiting for the inevitable day when they popped out. But...they never did. Despite all the warnings of my surgical team (who could totally beat your surgical team), those hips stayed right where they were supposed to.
Flash forward eight years to 2006 when I
Imagine my surprise a couple of days ago when I bent down to grab a soda off the bottom shelf and when I stood up I heard and felt that distinctive pop. I believe my exact thought was "Oh my gosh you have got to be kidding me. Again?" Which I eloquently verbalized thusly: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!"
My mother thought I had seen a particularly nasty spider. She came to my rescue anyway, as did the rest of my excellent family. (At one point as my parents held me on the kitchen floor and two emt's prepared to move me onto a stretcher while another put in an iv to give me some much needed morphine I suggested someone get the camera and snap a picture for a scrapbook. For some reason I was not taken seriously and so unfortunately I don't have any photos for you.) Anyway, I got to ride in an ambulance WITH sirens, and crack McDreamy jokes with the nursing staff and after a couple of tries got my hip put back in place!
And at the conclusion of this long and sordid tale I must ask you. Why oh why does this always happen in the lamest of ways? If I had known I was going to pop a hip on Friday I would have just gone skydiving. I mean honestly, grabbing a soda? So thats then end folks, six weeks in captivity. Fortunately I'm extremely long suffering. Expect to hear from me often.