Wednesday, 8 February 2012

Yoga and flat shoes

I went to yoga last night.  I didn't want to.  It's cold and dark (and snowy!) outside and I was super tired after work.  However, I went. This is due to a variety of factors.  One is that MM is a qualified personal trainer.  He works out FOR FUN!!  Now, I know that this isn't that unusual but it is a totally alien mindset to me.  I do NOT work out for fun.  In fact, I do NOT work out at all!  I can barely climb a set of stairs without collapsing.  I'm probably letting the side down.

This state of affairs has suited me just fine however.  I figured that as long as I still fit in my skinny jeans, that was the only thing I needed to know. 

But the jeans are starting to feel a little tight recently. Ooops. I don't tend to worry about my weight.  It's not in my psyche.  But I'm aware that if I don't start some kind of fitness routine in my twenties then by my forties I may be in trouble.  Especially considering just how much I love eating pizza.  I refuse to stop eating pizza. Ever. Path of least resistance towards exercise!  I figured a while back if I have to do something healthy, I may as well pick something that includes lying down at the end of it. 

I have, actually, been going to a yoga class, off and on, for years.  I know it's not going to magically transform me into a toned goddess but it is good for me, not least because I have pretty major problems with my hips (which I was born with) and I imagine maintaining some flexibility is going to keep me going longer than I otherwise would. 

These hips of mine cause me multiple issues.  While I can usually ignore these and carry on with my life, recently I have had to face up to them.  Perhaps a bit more reality that I really wish to deal with. 

See, I was born with DDH.  Also know has Developmental Dysplasia of the Hips (or Hip Dysplasia).  It was overlooked at the hospital when I was born and not picked up until I was two years old.  Obviously I was walking by then (in a fashion) and it became decidedly trickier to fix.  My parents tracked down the best surgeon they could and I spent the next two years in and out of surgery, and in and out of full body plaster casts.

I remember little or nothing of this, thankfully.  Ultimately, it was a success and I ended up with some pretty cool scars to show for it (and yes, I have told people they are as a result of a shark attack in Australia more than once.  Don't judge!). 

Unfortunately, the procedures I had as a child were never going to be a cure and I always knew that one day - in the future - I would need more work done.  However, this always seemed a long way off.  Until 2009.  When I suddenly realised that the pain I had always experienced (and therefore counted as normal) was getting decidedly worse in my left hip.  So I spent some time, tracked down the best surgeon once again, and discovered that actually, apparently, the pain was arthritis and it was only going to get worse.  No-one likes to hear that they have arthritis at 24.  I wasn't thrilled.  Believe me.

Fortunately I was told that I had an option other than a hip replacement.  This being something called a femoral osteotomy.  Rolls off the tongue doesn't it?  (Trust me, the medical jargon only gets worse. Sorry!).  This super fun procedure involved cutting through the bone at the top of my leg and re-jigging everything around so that the hip joint worked better and would last longer without causing me any or as much pain.

I had few choices really.  If I left it much longer, the arthritis was likely to get so bad that the procedure wouldn't actually work and I would be left with a hip replacement as my only option.  If I wasn't over-the-moon about having arthritis at 24, you can appreciate how I felt at the thought of a hip replacement.

So femoral osteotomy it was.  Oh boy, was I naive about the fun that would entail.  I was told I would need to be on crutches for three months, as I couldn't put weight on the operated leg.  "No worries," I thought.  "Plenty I can do on crutches.  Hell, my flat even has a lift.  I might even manage on my own."

Hahahahahahahaha!  No, no, no, no, hell no!  Fortunately my mum persuaded me to move back home, give up my flat and let her look after me.  And even then it was tough! 

The operation was OK, in the scheme of things, but the recovery was harder than I'd thought.  I just wasn't prepared for how tired and 'not myself' I would feel.  If I took a 10 minute shower, I had to take a break half way through because I was so exhausted!
But I bounced back (maybe not literally), got back on my feet (ok, that one's literal) and moved on.  Done and dusted. 

Except.  Apparently I am super rare. Yay!  Only 1 in 1000 people are born with DDH.  And only 20% of them have it in both hips.  See where I'm going with this?  Oh yes.  The time has come to have the other one done.  And I'm terrified!  I know what I'm going into this time.  The operation is slightly different in that this one is a periacetabular osteotomy - PAO -(told you the jargon got worse!) which, for those of you who like the gory details, means they break my pelvis in three places around the hip joint and do that re-jigging thing again that I mentioned above.  Oh the joy. I mean it should stop it hurting as much, postpone the need for a hip replacement and generally leave me in a much better position than I am currently, but still...*gulp*.  It's also making me consider just how much of this sort of thing I am going to have endure over my lifetime, and whether MM really REALLY knows just what he's let himself in for.  He wasn't in my life when I had the last one done and my ex-boyfriend (I believe I may have mentioned him before) simply wasn't equipped to handle the situation.  Or me.  Or the prospect of going through this with me over the many years to come.  It's a fairly major reason as to why I realised he might not be "THE ONE".   So, yeah.  Reality is dishing up some hard doses at the moment.

But all of that is not nearly as devastating as realising that I may have to give up these in the near future: 

And these:

And instead be reduced to wearing these:

They're cute, yes.  But just not the same.  :'(  So my point is: please, PLEASE, someone tell me where I can buy beautiful flat shoes? I'm in desperate need.

firefly x

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