All Pain is Relative!
So I’ve been home for a week, learning to hobble and hop around the house with my trusty steed named “Walker.” Three mornings a week I go to outpatient physical therapy, where a tiny and delicate-looking young woman puts me through an hour’s worth of grueling exercises — stretches, leg lifts, kicks, squeezes, and oner forms of elastic bondage. In case anyone asks, it hurts like hell, but she is oblivious to whining or the words “I can’t.” So? We do it anyway. We take Walker out onto a sidewalk paved with broken bricks and walk up and down in front of the world. She tells me to “rest,” and then thirty seconds later starts up again — “Just 15 more” or maybe “Let’s start over and do it all again.”
Does it help? Of course it does. If I get out of therapy around 10:30, I can count on the soreness fading by mid-afternoon, leaving me fairly frisky through dinner. And then, of course, I fall asleep just as something I want to watch comes on TV. I'm working harder than I realize.
Today I had an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon who has been directing much of this process from behind a wall. He took a new x-ray, which clearly show a double break, but he insists it is already starting to heal itself. I loved his explanation of the two breaks —“ The pelvis is like a pretzel. You can’t break it in just one spot!”
But the good news is that he says I am about ready to turn a corner. It’s been three weeks since the fall. After another week, he says there will be significantly less pain, and suggested that I would be ready to go shopping in about four more weeks. There is an end in sight!
He also seemed impressed that I have been getting along with no pain medicine stronger than a tylenol. (No Rush Limbach syndrome for me, thank you!). So I hurt. But that means all my nerve endings are working. Could be worse, and it’s getting better every day. All in all, I feel lucky!