Story time

This really has nothing to do with this lifestyle change I've made, but I really feel compelled to write about it today.

When I was about 18, I took a really bad fall. Like, really really bad. I had gone to work at a chain restaurant (that shall remain nameless) and was walking to the ladies room to change into my uniform. Let me paint this picture for you. The hallway was dimly lit and the floor was concrete. I took two steps into the hallway and my feet flew out from under me and I landed right on my skinny (I was 94lbs at the time) ass. My entire body was jarred. I was nearly in tears. I should have been bawling. But I'm a tough girl. I sucked it up and went about my day, though I was unable to stand up straight. The reason I'd taken this massive fall? Some dipshit from the kitchen had taken a barrel of grease out to the trash the night before. He'd spilled some of said grease in that dimly lit hallway. He knew he'd done this. He did not clean it up. That was not "his job" I guess.

I should have gone to the doctor. But like I said, I'm a tough girl and it didn't even occur to me (besides, I didn't have insurance so I couldn't have afforded to go to the doctor anyway). Which made my bosses threat of "that did not happen here, you know it didn't, and no one saw it so don't you dare even think of blaming us." totally pointless. I hope that man gets what he deserves because that little talk was against the law. He should have filled out an accident report. He should have sent me to the doctor. And I did have a witness. His karma is really shitty. Here's why.

That fall knocked my tailbone out of place. That tailbone then over the next several years kept continuing to work itself further out of place. After about 1 1/2 years, walking was somewhat painful. Forget dancing...that wasn't an option. Still I walked. Still I worked out. But it fucking hurt. I didn't equate the fall with the pain I had because my pain was in my right hip. Surely one had nothing to do with the other. I was only about 19 the first time I went to a doctor about my pain. I was told it was in my head because a young woman like myself would have no reason to have hip pain. Do not trust doctors.

So over the years the pain became progressively worse, but no one would believe me. It got to the point where every single step I took I thought could finally be the one were the ball of my hip broke off in the socket. I am not even exaggerating here. Thinking back on this is actually bringing tears to my eyes. I was in so much pain, and I could no longer avoid walking without a limp. I was 23.

I finally found my current doctor. Well, really I found his office. He and his practice partner are both osteopaths. Basically MD's with additional nifty bone cracking and alternative medicine training. I'd had enough of doctors telling me it was all in my head and I just wanted attention. I made an appointment and I told myself I was not leaving until someone said there really was something wrong, and what was wrong was not my brain.

I did not see my current doctor on this visit. A wonderful physician's assistant named Chloe saved me. I told her about my pain. I told her I couldn't walk without wanting to cry. I told her I was afraid I was going to need surgery. I told her I was afraid I was going to end up in a wheelchair. She listened and it was clear she got me. She had compassion in her eyes instead of contempt for my supposed attention whoring.

She asked me to stand up and turn around. She said she was going to put her hands on my lower back, because she needed to check something. She stuck her thumbs in those little divots above the pelvis (Iliac crest if you want to get all technical). She asked me to turn around and she held up her hands. her thumbs should have lined up pretty level. Meaning, had you wanted to draw a line between the tips of her thumbs, there would be no angle, just a flat, straight line. Well, her thumbs did make a straight line alright, but there was a serious angle. She said what was wrong was that for some reason my tailbone had migrated and twisted and it was forcing my pelvis to tilt back and up to the right, and that was putting a ton of pressure on my hip. She'd asked if I'd had a really bad fall at some point.

DING DING DING! Why yes I did! I know it is wrong of me to hope that sack of shit has to feel the pain I experienced. But sometimes I really do hope that guy takes a fall and is in pain every time he takes a step. I have to remind myself it's ok to feel that way, but I'm not allowed to wish that on anyone. Not even him.

After about a years worth of twice weekly adjustments with my doctor, as well as 2-3 times a week over a six month period with a physical therapist, I could walk virtually pain free. I say virtually because I will always be in danger of my tailbone just getting annoyed with me and slipping out of place. Same with my pelvis just wanting to hike itself up on my right side. But you know what, I can tell when it's going to happen. It is my body telling me I am going at something to hard and I have to take a break. So it's kind of a blessing, in a fucked up round about way, because it keeps me from hurting myself too badly by overexerting myself.

What made me think of this and decide to write about it? I went on my walk today. Had to stretch my back out because of my injury, and I didn't get to take as long of a walk as I would have liked. But I have to listen to my body.

When I got home, I'm walking down the hallway of my building, and I see through the glass doors a couple that is coming in as well. She is in a wheelchair. I am grateful beyond words that I avoided that fate. There but for the grace of (insert your deity/thing greater than you here) go I.

Every step I take is truly a gift, and I am one of the few that is lucky enough to know it.