I Don't Want to Wait

The cortisone injection I had the day before Thanksgiving only brought me only a month of relief.  It's like I never even had the injection in the first place.  The upside is that it removes all doubt that I could kick this can down the road for a while and subsist on daily PT and cortisone injections two or three times a year for a few more years.  Right now, my mind is singularly focused on

 So now we wait.  In pain.  All day.  Every day.  Some days I move better than others, and I take advantage of those days by being as physical as possible.  Even if I suffer for it later, the mental lift I get from moving my body is worth it.  I keep reminding myself that while this sucks right now, there is an end in sight.  I may be missing out on stuff with my friends and family right now, but I'll be back at it eventually.  It comes down to being grateful it's just a hip.  

While I count down the days until surgery (62), I'm doing everything in my power to set myself up for the quickest and most successful recovery possible.  I'm keeping up my daily strength workouts to make sure the rest of this body doesn't fall apart.  I'm diligent with the homework from my physical therapist, and I've added some basic hip strengthening and balance exercises in an attempt to be as strong and steady as possible going into surgery.  I get on my beach cruiser a few times a week for gentle motion and fresh air.  Correction, I get on Camryn's beach cruiser now because hers is aluminum and much lighter than mine.  Yeah, that's how far we've fallen.  Swimming once a week is good for the soul as well.  I ice my hip daily, using this ice pack that was sent from heaven.  I try to take ibuprofen only if I know the pain will keep me up at night.  Or if it's been brought to my attention that I'm being a raging bitch to my family (but if one of them asks "What's WRONG with you?" one more time...)

I'm also 18 days into what I've dubbed Joyless January.  It's kinda like Dry January where I've cut out all alcohol consumption, only with the bonus suckage of cutting out all sweets as well. The L-B's were creeping back on with all the holiday indulgences without the hardcore cardio to counteract them, and I'm hoping to create an optimal healing environment from the inside out.  It hasn't been as joyless as I imagined it would be, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious how Ryan's birthday cake turned out (homemade Nutella frosting!), and that bowling alley pitcher of beer looked reeeeeeeally refreshing.  

62 more days is a long time, but sticking to the things I know will help me from the day of surgery and beyond is keeping from totally losing it.