Today is Sunday, but this entry has been a few days in the making. I am currently doing what I should, resting. I'm in the recliner resting after Hot Dad and I rearranged Ethel's bedroom, at her request. So, I am taking rest for my leg and updating everyone on the whole situation.
For the last couple of weeks, I've notice a bit of, well, I guess you'd call it pressure, in my {cover your eyes, gentlemen} nether region. Last Wednesday night was no different and I
had a good run-pee thing going on {that one's for you moms}. A few hill repeats into the workout
and I started feeling some pain in my vaginal area, and it hurt when I
strided forward with my right leg. It was very much toward the front of
the area, but I couldn't put my finger on the specific point of pain
(literally and figuratively). I sat out a few repeats, tried to stretch
the hip flexor on that side, the hammie, groin, sat on the cold ground, etc.
It would feel better 'til I ran. I managed the run back to the store (about 2 miles and chance),
but by the time we headed back, the pain was into the groin area, no longer centered in the front of my lady parts {how's that, gentlemen?}. I had to adjust my gait, and in response, my IT band on the left side started to argue. When we got back to the store I rolled both hips and IT bands, my lower back, I stretched as much as I could stand. I stopped to get gas on the way home and then the pain was worse. By the time I
got home, it was distinctly painful to walk, or put any upright
pressure on the leg. The pain was all in the crotch, not the hip.
You know that ligament on the inside of your leg where your leg meets your crotch? The one that flexes when you pull your legs together? It's not that, it's sort of behind that. The more it hurt Thursday morning, I had a fear that it could be a pelvic injury. What started out feeling like I was probably experiencing symptoms of a pelvic floor injury has turned into excruciating pain to the point where I can't walk. Sitting is better, but, still somewhat painful if I turn or bend wrong. I took two Aleve before going to bed, hoping that would help some.
Ethel came in our room at about 1AM, so Hot Dad returned her to her own bed. While doing so, Fred cried out pretty urgently. As I suspected, nose bleed. In an attempt to help Hot Dad tend to Fred, I went to the bathroom to get a towel, but by the time I got to Fred's door (about six steps), I felt sick to my stomach and nearly cried from the pain. I made it back to our bedroom and tried crawling to the bed, but, that seemed to hurt more than walking. I made it back to bed, got covered back up, and drifted back off to sleep.
Thursday morning I got up hoping the pain would have eased, but it hadn't. I got up, dressed and ready, knowing the stairs would be a challenge for me. I went downstairs to start my day and get some coffee and start work. It took me a few minutes to get to the kitchen from the stairs, and by the time I did, I was again at the brink of tears. I'd already tried to run down how to get Ethel to school (we walk, we're just down the street), manage Fred, work all day, and then retrieve Ethel from school. I realized right then that I wouldn't be able to do it alone. I called Hot Dad, nearly in tears from the pain, and finally conceded and asked him to come home. I was up at 1-ish and realized that turning over in bed was painful. I ran through all the things I could try to do. I was going to try to walk Ethel to school and then drive myself to the ER (figuring it will need an X-Ray most likely, which I couldn't get at a doctor's office), and Fred would manage and the staff would help me with him. I ran through multiple scenarios trying to get myself checked without bothering anyone, but, at 6AM Thursday, shortly after getting to the kitchen, I waved the white flag. I don't want to miss a day of work, don't want Fred to miss his karate that night, and didn't want to send any "I'm dying" vibes to anyone by mentioning visiting the ER.
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| The pain's somewhere in here. |
You know that ligament on the inside of your leg where your leg meets your crotch? The one that flexes when you pull your legs together? It's not that, it's sort of behind that. The more it hurt Thursday morning, I had a fear that it could be a pelvic injury. What started out feeling like I was probably experiencing symptoms of a pelvic floor injury has turned into excruciating pain to the point where I can't walk. Sitting is better, but, still somewhat painful if I turn or bend wrong. I took two Aleve before going to bed, hoping that would help some.
Ethel came in our room at about 1AM, so Hot Dad returned her to her own bed. While doing so, Fred cried out pretty urgently. As I suspected, nose bleed. In an attempt to help Hot Dad tend to Fred, I went to the bathroom to get a towel, but by the time I got to Fred's door (about six steps), I felt sick to my stomach and nearly cried from the pain. I made it back to our bedroom and tried crawling to the bed, but, that seemed to hurt more than walking. I made it back to bed, got covered back up, and drifted back off to sleep.
Thursday morning I got up hoping the pain would have eased, but it hadn't. I got up, dressed and ready, knowing the stairs would be a challenge for me. I went downstairs to start my day and get some coffee and start work. It took me a few minutes to get to the kitchen from the stairs, and by the time I did, I was again at the brink of tears. I'd already tried to run down how to get Ethel to school (we walk, we're just down the street), manage Fred, work all day, and then retrieve Ethel from school. I realized right then that I wouldn't be able to do it alone. I called Hot Dad, nearly in tears from the pain, and finally conceded and asked him to come home. I was up at 1-ish and realized that turning over in bed was painful. I ran through all the things I could try to do. I was going to try to walk Ethel to school and then drive myself to the ER (figuring it will need an X-Ray most likely, which I couldn't get at a doctor's office), and Fred would manage and the staff would help me with him. I ran through multiple scenarios trying to get myself checked without bothering anyone, but, at 6AM Thursday, shortly after getting to the kitchen, I waved the white flag. I don't want to miss a day of work, don't want Fred to miss his karate that night, and didn't want to send any "I'm dying" vibes to anyone by mentioning visiting the ER.
So Hot Dad came home. He walked Ethel to school. He got me to the hospital. We didn't have to wait long. They got me checked in and into bay C4 within less than 30 minutes. I repeated my story several times, including the male nurse who told me, "Good, I'm glad you're not too girly and afraid of a little pain", while trying to assess the extent of my discomfort and hearing that I'd run through the pain to the store where I stretched and rolled. He, of course, asked if I'm a marathon runner, to which I replied, "Chicago will be my first"; and he retorted, "You people are crazy, I don't know why you do that, but good for you". It was a light hearted exchange, and I could tell he didn't think I was there for some slight discomfort.
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| Keep reading, this pic will make sense |
Again, the wait wasn't long and then finally a nice gal came and wheeled me down to the X-Ray room. The tech was friendly, seemed sympathetic to my pain, and her
A little while later, Tall Doctor returned with news that the X-Ray was fine, nothing is wrong, we'll get you out of here as soon as I compare notes with the radiologist.
Are you kidding me? I can't walk, I'm in horrible pain, but you're going to set me free because your X-Ray "looks fine"?? Are you kidding me? I'm going to be paying this off for years to come and there's nothing wrong??
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
Hot Dad and I tried to formulate questions, a plan, anything that might lead us to more answers as we waited for someone to come back and tell us what was next. Tall Doctor came back, a little humbled, and said the X-Ray wasn't as straight forward as he thought, it showed some demineralization. He suggested an MRI. I agreed.
A quick internet search let Hot Dad to tell me it was likely onset of osteoperosis, but, it could be hereditary.
My first thought -
Good, I can still run. It's something and it's treatable.
Another short wait 'til a nice, older gentleman named Stan came and took me to MRI. He explained some of the new additions and changes that have been made in the hospital, making friendly conversation. Nice guy.
Down in MRI, I sat outside the room while the tech prepared the machine and the table I would lay on. I've never had an MRI before, no idea what to expect here. I explained, again, why I was there, and he helped me to the table. He gave me ear plugs. The room was filled with a pulsing sound, almost like a heartbeat, very rhythmic. I laid on the table, and he slid me into the machine with my knees propped up slightly.
One thing I had to note at this point was that it can be a bit unsettling to realize that you're being laid on a table, stuffed into a machine, pictures will be taken of your insides, but nobody else can be in that room with you. It's sort of like being thrown to the wolves.
Here, you go in there. Oh sure, it's safe. I'm just going to be in this other room behind the steel wall with the triple thick glass. Press this button if you need anything.
That's awesome.
Anyway, through a speaker, the tech explained it would be about 25-30 minutes, and he would tell me what was going on throughout that time. A few minutes here, a few minutes there. At one point, the chorus of noise seemed a combination of Steal My Sunshine and Intergalactic. I just did my best to relax and make something of the sounds that pounded around my body while the tech sat safely in the other room.
Stan returned when I was done, along with a friend who appeared 10 years his senior, donning his veterans head piece adorned with pins rejoicing his accolades and dedication of years in the Service. Stan was giving his friend a run-down of where things are, pointing out important hallways and rooms on our way back to C4.
While in C4, I explained the MRI thing to Hot Dad and tried to find a comfortable position on the bed. We talked about possible outcomes, how to handle them, and what to do about lunch for Fred, who had endured three hours in the hospital with little more than a "I want to go back to the spot we were!" {ie: I wanna go back to the empty waiting room by MRI}. He was really a champ.
Tall Doctor returned, chipper as ever, declaring that it's good news, the MRI was fine, nothing is wrong! We'll have the discharge papers and you can go home! The X-Ray imaging must have caused a shadow, the MRI showed no maladies in the pelvic bone and didn't reveal any obvious reason for my pain. Oh, but there is an ovarian cyst on your left side, but that's obviously not related to the pain on your right side. Have a great day.
Are you kidding me?
Me: What should I do now? Do I need to stay off it?
Tall Doctor: Well, you obviously can't run on it.
{this is me, wanting to kick him in his own groin, however I can't because he's on my right side}
Me: Should I take something, should I stay off it completely?
TD: Sure, we'll give you a script for {insert anti-inflammatory meds here}, rest as much as you can, and if you're still in pain in 2-5 days, you can follow up with an orthopaedic surgeon, do you have one?
Me: Yes, my husband has been to on recently.
TD: Great, the nurse should be in shortly, have a nice day.
Thank goodness he went to med school.
So, I asked the discharge nurse what he thought, and he printed out the contact info for the local, hospital-affiliated {ie: they can get my films to review} ortho practice, and got me a wheel chair for my journey back to the outside.
Hot Dad and Fred picked me up at the doors, and we went home.
I called and made an appointment with the ortho, and will see them Monday after work.
In the end, we have no answers. Today is Sunday. I rested the rest of Thursday. I didn't fill the RX, instead opting to take my trusty Aleve and relax with my Bota Box Malbec and wait it out. Friday, Hot Dad returned to work, and I was able to get Ethel to/from school. A classmate's mom and awesome teacher both helped me by meeting me and walking Ethel to/from the building, reducing the distance I'd have to cover. Friday afternoon, Hot Dad had the following revelation.
{me, trying to change my clothes and put on shoes}
Hot Dad: So, should I call you Igor or Fred Sanford??
{sounding like Fred when he beams with pride over something he's done}
Me: {silent, staring, trying not to laugh} I'd kick you if I could stand on one leg!
Today I am doing much better. I rested most of the day yesterday, making the kids do most of the work we did in their rooms, and Hot Dad helped in Fred's room. Today, Hot Dad did most of the furniture moving while I talked Ethel through her ideas for furniture placement in her room. And here I sit, in the recliner with the laptop, enjoying soft music in the background and blogging, while the kids watch their big brother father play some car racing video game.
I am not one to sit still for long, so this better heal ASAP. This is my first injury since becoming a runner, the first time I've been sidelined, the first time I've had to stay off my feet since I had either of my kids. That alone, is painful. I don't sit. I don't enjoy not doing anything. I am not relaxed. I don't like this feeling.
Most of all, I don't like not running.
It's OK. I'll see the ortho tomorrow night and hopefully he's not Captain Obvious like Tall Doctor. Hopefully he has some useful information about how I can manage this and treat it, or even some insight into what could be causing the pain. For now, I will take it as easy as I can. I will probably overdo it and risk taking longer to heal. That's how I roll.
Thanks for all the well wishes and concern! I promise to update again by Tuesday night!
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