Damn These Cursed Hips Anyway!

My hips would appear to be back to their old tricks.

That would be the tricks they were up to prior to my getting that steroid injection four weeks ago.

All night last night again I was wakened every two hours.

But this time I clearly knew why I was being wakened.

The pain had been permeating my sleep and I could tolerate it no longer.

That old familiar searing pain in whichever hip I was trying to sleep on.

Time to turn over.

But I had to wake up in order to do that.

And the painful fire in my hips wouldn't go out so I was awake for a while each time.

Hence, I woke up tired; been up since 4:30am again today.

But this time, I've been up for the day and I'm in pain.

Feeling like several mack trucks have run over me during the night.

Just like the old days.

So does this mean that I got just under four weeks' relief from that injection?  (It's actually four weeks tomorrow.)

Please tell me it isn't so!  Because if that is the case, I can't use that treatment plan for relief -- it just isn't practical to put myself at the other risks associated with using steroids for a mere four weeks' benefit.  We were hoping I would get at least three months from it.

But oh, that four weeks has been divine!

As of today, I'm still walking upright, proper, just like a normal person.

And I will strive to continue to do that.

But as of today, I'm doing that in pain; in pain that I haven't had for the past four weeks.

Eventually, I won't be able to maintain the facade.

Eventually, my walk will turn into a humped crawl again.

John can tell, of course.

He sees the slow-down even when I think I'm hiding it (guess I'm not a very good actress!).

I went out for my sixteen-minute walk this morning, in spite of the pain and discomfort.  I really don't want to abandon my walking program.

The hill was even more difficult than it was the last time out -- my heart rate got up to 122 and I was struggling for every breath (and every step!).

I kept going though, and my eight-minute mark brought me just a few paces short of my last outing (so obviously, my pace didn't even match my last 16-minute trek).

But the return trip almost did me in!

Half way back, I was really wishing there was somewhere -- anywhere -- that I could sit and rest.  I slowed to near a crawl and was dragging bottom by the time I caught up with John (he was lolling about looking for plants).

He could see right away that I was out of gas, big time!

I got home OK, but it had taken me nine minutes for the return trip.

So my 16-minute power walk turned into a 17-minute walk/stroll/crawl. 

Not sure how much of that outing counts as a conditioning work-out.

But I guess in the end, any outing is better than none, as long as it doesn't kill me in the process!