Wednesday, 18 February 2015

The beating hip: Part 1

I spent a long time, as usual, on the toilet, my place of peace and solitude.

Nobody disturbs me there. I have my secret smelly weapon, shielding any entrances from the pesky girls, who at times won’t give me my time, even on the pot, when,  they walk in, shouting and ordering me to do this or that etc.

But this sit was different. 

Something in my hip started to pinch and when I got out of the toilet. I felt a sharp shooting pain down the outside of my right hip to my knee when I put any weight on my leg.

I tried to wobble it out and ignored it and when I lay down it hurt less.

That was Saturday, Day 1.

Sunday I had to teach a BJJ class and noticed an increasing pain as I demonstrated techniques to the class. 

However, as I warmed up, the endorphins dulled the pain, such that I attempted to roll once with a student, just to give my ego a little boost.

Normally the movement of BJJ helps my neck, but this was different, in all positions my hip would hurt even through the endorphins.

Monday I realised what a bad idea it was to have rolled.

No movement was possible without excruciating pain and to do a work out till the endorphins came, was not possible. 

Stabbing burning, pinching, hurting all the way to the soul of my knee and spiking till the foot. Even walking was no longer possible.

I called the doctor and got some Diclofenac 75mg tablets.

I could then move again, at a snail’s pace. What a relief!

But it was not gone. By Thursday it was driving me insane, the continuous agony.

The hip pain was beating my continuous neck pain. Bloody misery was extended.

It will get worse, says Murphy, and so it did.

Bob Marley, “You need a small axe to chop down big tree”.

Pain chops down the spirit of the strongest man; my body is now torturing itself. Even revealing the secrets won’t stop the torture, since I already know the answers.

So I am appealing to the axe secrets within, the prize is coming....
The victory will be…

The washing is polluting the changing room, and this body has no energy for that.

Even the nagging chat I had with my girls about the amazing house I run cannot motivate past my pain to clear that washing.

The governor then gets home from work and we end up having a debate about something I can’t recall now.

She is so smart. So fast, so correct, so logical, my pained brained logic loses and my mind is stressed, which triggers a migraine. 

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