Tuesday, July 21, 2015

My New Angle on things...

My new angle

Sitting in a wheelchair, you get to see everyone from a new angle, and let me tell you, that's not always good lol. Sometimes you don't want to be looking at the view right in front of you, but then it takes cranking the neck up to look at the person's face!

But that's not what "my new angle" is really about haha. My new angle is about my new perception on things. The way I see things now, and I'm thankful to write, that it's a good one!

The other day we drove upstate to see my daughter on visiting day. We got to camp grounds, and the terrain was muddy and rocky. My poor husband had to wheel me thru it all, because it was too much walking and uneven ground for my crutches or walker. And poor me had to sit around watching everyone else have fun while I was stuck in my wheelchair. But this is not a pity story...this is a positive story!

So sitting in the mud in my wheelchair, while my husband and daughter went way further down the path to practice archery, I was a),
bored out of my mind and yet b), surprisingly totally fine! It was like I was high on something. Only I wasn't. I have been totally off all pain killers aside for Tylenol now and then, since two weeks post op. And so I was thinking, "why am I so okay right now?" And then I realized, I was okay because I was done. I had been thru both my surgeries already (only one left is screw removal at 6 months), had gotten thru the worst of it, and now I am on my road to recovery! As I sat back in my chair, I thought about how much pain I was in before my PAO, and how much worse I would have felt coming up to these camp grounds with that much pain and unable to walk far distances; And I knew my anger, depression, and anxiety would have been highly present if I were back in that stage. 

Knowing that the worst is now behind me, and in a few weeks I will be able to start using that leg again, is the most peaceful feeling ever. So was I high on pain killers? No. But was I high on something? Yes. I was high on life, high on my second chance at living without a disability, and high on a beautiful gift that I am soon to receive. One that we all take for granted. Walking. 

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

How CrossFit has helped me, and why I may not want to go back....

I have written in the past about CrossFit how great it is, and how much it has had a positive impact on my life, and in no way am I saying otherwise in this post. I still have a great respect and appreciation for what it has done for me, and how much I have grown from it, however, I also now have a new found understanding and appreciation for the other side of things since my diagnosis of hip dysplasia.

People say CrossFit is a cult. CrossFitters say its a lifestyle, a community. So which is true...? I don't know that there is an answer to that. I think there is definitely a cult aspect to it, the way we obsess, the way we are overly passionate about our wods (workouts), the way we swear CrossFit has changed our lives, and mostly the way we can no longer relate to "normal" people who don't do CrossFit.
As for the community...? I don't know. I guess that depends on which box (gym) you practice at maybe. I know that my most receent box was anything but a community. I know how quickly they dropped me the second  my hip dysplasia took over,  and the second I didn't  play their games right in their little facebook group. And I know that those who were there for me when my pain and disability started, were those in  my real community not my CrossFit community; My family was there for me, my friends were there for me (my real friends), and even some brand new friends that I met through my diagnosis were there for me a hell of a lot more than my "CrossFit community".
In terms of lifestyle, I think its more obsession than lifestyle. That is not to say it wasn't a good obsession. That is not to say, it wasn't a major life changing obsession. And that is not to say it didn't have truly amazing benefits and results in my life. But the thing is, that it took me being forced to stop training due to my hip condition, to realize how deeply my obsession/addiction had taken over my life.
At first when I could no longer train, I was deeply depressed. I was angry. I was desperate. And I was terrified I would lose all the gains I had made, and gain all the weight back that I had lost.
I began doing modified home wods for my upper body only, and I obsessively watched over my body in the mirror for any set backs or changes.
But once the pain in my hip got worse, once I could no longer walk more than two blocks or could no longer shop in a store due to total debilitating pain in my leg and hip, I began to slow down and I began to learn the lessons my hip was there to teach me. No longer did I want to do crossfit. No longer did I miss or long to be training again. I now missed living. I now missed walking, cooking, and being a functional mother to my kids. My life became about my diagnosis, about my treatment options, and about surviving each day in physical pain.
At some point down this path, at some point along this journey, I started to see my childrens' faces. I mean really seeing their faces. I started seeing our home, our walls, our rooms. I started seeing nature, the grass, the trees. I started seeing life.
It took a congenitally malformed hip to teach me to slow down. I always studied mindfulness. I taught my clients mindfulness. And I thought I practiced mindfulness. Maybe to some degree I did, but to other degrees I was certainly so caught up in CrossFit, that I was not being mindful, and I was not slowing down to pay attention.
I used to obsess over my Olympic lifts. I would obsess over when I was going to get a pull up. I was googling videos on the stuff, reading about it, going over and over my moves in my head and watching videos of them. My entire facebook life was about CrossFit. Every damn post lol.
And then I started living...really living. Looking at life as a blessing, relishing each precious word my kids would say, and adoring the man I married.
I would look at people's posts about their PR's and how much they can lift, and I would think "ok yay u can lift weight, but what are u contributing to the world. Did you do anything for someone today? Did you make a difference in the world". I know that comes off haughty of me, considering I probably wasn't contributing much to the world either, and honestly a lot of that way of thinking came from personal anger I held toward the people who were once my "community", but it also was directed toward myself. I would look at these posts and think to myself, "now I know what others were thinking when they saw all of my posts". I mean, now that I was no longer a CrossFitter, I was able to see it from an outsider's perspective. And let me tell you, I wasn't impressed. It's one thing when someone posts about a personal crossfit gain that happens to be really inspirational, because they overcame something big in their life, and its another to post every freaken damn moment of crossfit in their lives. I mean really, who cares?!!
Okay... I know I know.... I was totally one of them. But now I can see it! For the professional athletes and coaches I get it, it is their professional life and they need to advertise it. But for regular athletes like myself, I really do believe we forgot a whole other side or picture of our lives. Sure we were still taking care of our families and doing our jobs, but how much of us were really participating in those moments and how much of us were really thinking about crossfit back in the hidden brain.
Maybe it was just me. I don't know. Maybe others are better at balancing their lives. Maybe others do not have as addictive of a personality as I have. All I know is that I was highly addicted and obsessed, to the point where I lost whole other sides of myself, my life, my friends, and my family. And it took a dysplastic hip to make me realize.
So will I return to Crossfit if I am ever medically cleared to do so? I honestly don't know. I know CrossFit helped me get through this surgery and recovery by developing strength in my upper body to lift myself, and by getting me to a much healthier place pre-op, and I would love to be tight again and fit, but I would hate to be that obsessed. Is balance a possibility? Probably not. Not for me anyway....Because lets just face it, my personality does not allow me to do anything half assed or balanced. I'm a Libra! Whatever that means...lol.
So CrossFit or no CrossFit....I guess time will tell. But honestly, being that tight and fit is not number one on my priority list. Number one on my priority list....? Holding on to everything I have learned and continue to learn from this experience and being a better wife, mom, friend, and person, that is number one on my priority list.

"Mommy why do you have to be in the hospital?"


One of the most difficult parts of being in the hospital was seeing what it was putting my children through. My 7 year old wrote me this card and presented it to me asking me to read it out lout. I broke down in tears after the first half of it, and had to put it down. I brought her into a deep hug, and promised her I would be coming home real soon. She nodded okay and walked away. Moments later she returned with the card pointing to it and silently gesturing with her face that I should finish reading it. "why do you have to be in the hospital....?" She needed me to read this and answer her. It was her only way of communicating her feelings to me, and demanding answers to her concerns and questions. I answered her again with tears in my eyes. I answered all four of my kids, promising I would be home Sunday morning (it was Friday). I explained that I just had to be feeling a little better before I could go home. They nodded silently to this, and hung around a bit longer before it was time to go. It crushed my heart knowing what this was doing to them. And it also pushed me to heal quicker and stay on top of my game. 
Later that day, I had one of the worst days in the hospital. I had written about this in a previous post so I wont go into details here. But the point is, that knowing what promise I had made to my children allowed me the strength to keep on fighting thru the pain, the nausea, and the physical therapy. I would not allow myself to stop eating, or to quit learning how to mobilize with my walker with PT. I was a fighter, and I was going to win this fight at the hospital of getting better by my discharge date, so that I could go home to my kids on Sunday as promised. 
I have been home for a week and a half now, and the pride and excitement I see in my childrens' eyes when I reach a new milestone is priceless. The first week home I needed assistance from my husband getting in and out of bed. Since I am not allowed to use my right leg at all, in order to get into the bed, I needed someone to physically hold and lift that leg for me. The physical therapist had taught me a way of doing it on my own at the hospital in case I would ever be left alone, but at that point I was in too much pain and too weak to be able to do it. Well...after a week at home, I finally built the strength and coordination to do it, and got into the bed by myself! One day my 7 year old comes into the room and sees me getting into bed on my own. She quickly asks me out of concern, "Mommy, don't you need Daddy to help you?!". I explain to her that I learned how to do it myself, and ask her if she would like to see. She nods with excitement and watches every step of the way until I am safely in the bed. She then excitedly asks me "should I tell Daddy you did it?!". I tell her sure, and she runs to the kitchen exclaiming " Daddy! Daddy! Mommy got into the bed all by herself!"
These are the moments I treasure. These are the moments I can see what impact everything has on our precious children, and these are the moments I know I have to fight hard and take care of myself to allow for the smoothest recovery. 
The next day one of my 9 year old twins had a similar interaction with me, watching me get into the bed and looking at me with awe and pride. 
It used to be me looking at their milestones with those feelings of awe and pride. Its somewhat painful to see them having to be on the other side at such young ages. But at the same time I know I am teaching them precious lessons in life;  I am teaching them lessons about fighting, about pushing yourself, about taking care of yourself, and about overcoming obstacles. 
I love my children more than anything in the world, and can not wait to be able to be on the care giving end again. It will happen soon enough I know, and for now I am teaching them valuable life lessons at my bedside, and giving them an abundance of love, hugs, and kisses. 

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

What romance really looks like. So this is marriage....

What romance really looks like.
So this is marriage....

When you think about romance or marriage, what comes to mind? I know in the beginning of our marriage, I had my ideas of what its supposed to look like; Ideas that mostly came from movies or other couples I'd seen. Through my distorted perception, cuz lets face it, when we look at others' supposed happiness and judge life through the book covers/facebook posts people like to project, our lenses are greatly distorted, my husband was never really the romantic type. He did things for me, like washed the dishes and vacuumed the floors, but he didn't really buy things for me, like flowers or jewelry. Of course after some years in training, he definitely improved in the flower/jewelry area:) , but It took me some time to learn my own lessons in romance as well, which is that some husbands are the flowers and jewelry type and some husbands are the vacuum the floors type. 
Anyway, fast forward to 15 years later, and I realize now more than ever what romance really looks like. 
Romance looks like a man who holds his wife's hand throughout her entire experience of a difficult diagnosis and multiple surgeries, who can crack jokes over the situation when his wife is at the level of peeing on a commode in the middle of the room, who can make sexual innuendos out of any humiliating position he has to see his wife in and somehow make her feel sexy and attractive nonetheless, and who takes his wife in a wheelchair to homegoods at less than a week post op, even though he absolutely hates shopping, especially home accessory shopping, because he knows how much she misses being able to physically go into a store and shop like she used to. 
The day we went to homegoods, is the day I fell in love with my husband all over again. I've fallen for him many times, but this time takes the cake by far. I was honestly surprised he kept to his promise he had made to me in the hospital when I told him how much I desperately missed homegoods and he came up with a day to take me, and I had tears in my eyes as her wheeled me down the aisles in my wheelchair. 
Honestly, I was high as a kite on pain meds haha, and I was in terrible pain, but that didn't stop me from feeling such intense deep love for this man. I know why he did it, and it wasn't to earn any brownie points for later, and certainly not to earn bragging rights as husband of the year, as he would kill me for sharing this lol. He did it to make me happy, to alleviate some of my pain, and to take my mind off the horrendous experience I was having, so that I could get through another day of healing without feeling depressed, without feeling helpless, and without feeling inhuman on top of my pain.  
That is what real romance looks like. Romance isn't a piece of jewelry, romance isn't a hot date with flowers, romance isn't a sweet poem or gesture. Romance is loving your partner more than life itself, and wanting to do anything and everything to care for them more than they care for themselves. Romance is selfless. Romance is true. Romance is living, really living, being true to yourself and your partner. 
So if this is what marriage really looks like....I'll take it! I'll take it over any romance or fairy tale I have seen or heard, and I will know that what happened is true. What happened is real. And I can only hope and pray that I will be just as good to him as he has been to me if our roles were ever reversed, and if he ever G-d forbid  needs me the way I need him. 

I love this man always and forever, and I thank this difficult year in my life for reminding me of how great of a man and life I truly have. 

Unfortunately I don't have a picture of us at homegoods, but I do have one of us heading to Ikea two days later, because, yeah, he did that too:)


Monday, July 6, 2015

The struggle is real...


Post PAO surgery day 11
How to shave your legs after a PAO...? Geez I haven't seen my legs this hairy since I was 12 yrs old. Can't quite figure out what to do. I think this is one thing I need to not ask my husband to do. He's seen enough, done enough, and is still attracted to me - or so he claims.. Haha. Some things need to stay private even in a 15 year marriage.
So... I'm growing monster brows above my eyes, am in desperate need of a mani pedi, and I feel like dog shit.
Taking a shower is a huge ordeal these days. It requires moving my commode (yes I do have one) into the shower (I didn't buy a shower chair cuz I couldn't stand any extra nursing home gear in my life and figured we could multi task with the commode), and slowly lowering myself to it, while my husband holds my op leg for me since I'm not allowed to lift it myself and can not break a 90 degree angle to lift it with my arms. Once I'm in and my husband lowers my leg in with me, I then have to use my good leg to scoot myself with the commode back further into the shower.
After that alone I'm exhausted, and then I still have to wash my entire body with only the use of one leg, one hip, a broken pelvis, and an upper body that must stay upright.
Good Lord this is fun isn't it?! So anyway, in the hospital, you have to have a few sessions with the PT and the OT in order to assure you can be mobile enough to take care of yourself when you are home. One of the things they encourage you to buy is the grabber. Since I am not allowed to bend more than 90 degrees (that's sitting straight up with no bend), I need these little toys to pick things up, such as my pants when they fall down (I've come out of the bathroom quite a few times with no pants on, because.. well they slipped down too low on my legs and the only thing I could do was leave them behind. It's quite a site let me tell you :))
Anyway, in an effort to feel human again, I would really really like to shave my legs.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Post op day 6


I'm starting to feel the depression sink in. Luckily I'm on enough meds to mask most of it. I still need assistance getting in and out of bed since I'm not allowed to lift the opted leg yet, and of course assistance dressing and showering since I can't bend and can't break the 90 degree angle rule of sitting. It's tough. I'm not gonna lie. The pain is still constant and it feels very disabling. I just have to keep positive and take my pain meds and let ppl help me. There are times when I want to shut down and not let anyone visit or talk to me, but I know that's depression talking. The more u shut down the worse it gets. U gotta let ppl in, let yourself cry, and keep telling yourself it's temporary and your body is healing.

The other side:


Well, I made it to the other side. I'm officially a hip warrior! It's really hard to grasp what my body went thru. I mean I know I'm in a lot of pain and all, but not nearly as much as you would think being what was actually done to my body. It's been really tough, I'm not going to lie. But with the right support, meds, and attitude, you can get thru it. You just gotta keep reminding yourself that it's temporary. I had a really bad day at the hospital. I think it was day 2. I started off well that morning. I walked 30 ft with PT on crutches (day before I only got to commode and day 1 was only able to sit up at edge of bed).
It all went sour when they gave me percaset. I am very sensitive to narcotics and it took me to a really bad turn. I got really dizzy and nauseous and had a major migraine that would not let up. The pain management doctor came in while I was throwing up and told the nurse to give me a IM shot on my arm to help the headache and nausea. Well that didn't work and my arm was in more pain than my hip.
I called my husband crying. Honesty I felt like I was being tortured alive.
Thankfully the night nurse came up with raglan and benedral for me thru IV, and I was knocked out to sleep.
Long story short, chief of pain meds came in the next day and redid all my meds. He was awesome. A true savior. He told me I have extreme sensitivity to narcotics and put me on a motion sickness patch behind my ear, a pain patch on my hip, a narcotic with least effect on the stomach, and an amazing medicine for my headaches. Finally things started looking up! Also found I did way better in PT with my Mobil legs instead of walker. Probably because I had all that practice from my scope surgery two weeks prior to PAO.
I was able to walk all the way down the hall and up and down a few steps on day 3!

Registration for surgery


This is by far one of the worst parts. They have U sitting and waiting for so long, and all U can think about is whats about to happen. As soon as I smelled the IV smell from another patient (U know that alcohol hospital smell?), I wanted to run away. I turned to my husband and said I changed my mind. I was petrified and emotional. From the moment we were leaving the house that morning, I had this dreadful fear of "what if I don't wake up?". 

I sat silently waiting, squeezing a stuffed doll I had brought in with me. My husband kept cracking jokes and taking awful pics of me, to keep me distracted, but I could barely talk. All I could do is stare straight ahead of me. 

And then it was time....I had to give my husband a hug and kiss good bye and head into surgery. I couldn't get out the words "I love you" to my husband because I was trying so hard not to break down and cry, and I knew that would do it. He smiled and waved at me calmly and took my stuff, as they wheeled me in to the operating room. I was fully awake and aware. That was nuts. I just kept blocking it all out so I wouldn't cry. As the anesthesiologist spoke, I silently said a prayer to G-d begging to him to get me through this and back to my husband and 4 girls. 
The craziest/scariest part, was when the anesthesiologist put the anesthesia in my IV and told me I would be asleep in 30 seconds. He said once I fall asleep, he will put a tube down my throat to keep me breathing. I remember feeling my body stop. Like I felt everything die. I remember silently praying that he put that tube in fast to keep me alive. I sensed him doing it right away, but didn't feel any of it and was out like a light.

When I woke in recovery, I remember the pain first hitting me. Like my bones everywhere were killing. The nurse kept telling me to push my pain pump as often as possible. I pushed it a lot. Took like half a bag of morphine by the time they transferred me to my room. I was so out. I think that's a good thing, even though I didn't like that out of control feeling it was better than feeling the pain. I plugged my earphones in to relaxing music and just meditated a lot with the music until I fell asleep. 

Surgery #1 The Hip Arthroscopy

The  hip arthroscopy with Dr. Youm went well. The worst part about it was being walked into the operating room and seeing all the equipment, knowing what as about to happen.., etc. I literally pictured Tigger from Whinnie the pooh, while they were talking me thru the anesthesia and strapping my arms down to the table, to hold myself back from crying.  When I woke up in recovery, the doctor told me that it went really well, and that he was able to anchor my labrum back on (mine was torn, which is common with dysplasia since ours are larger to overcompensate for our faulty hips), and that the tear was quite large and likely a big source of my pain.  He said he also shaved down my femoral head from a slight  bone impingement.  I was happy I did the arthroscopy, because even though my PAO surgeon told me it wasn't definitely necessary and that I could  always do it down the line, I knew that a lot of my pain was coming from there, and I also knew that it's a lot easier to get in there while I am still dysplastic as there is extra room where my hip ball is not in the socket.
I left the hospital that day (arthroscopies are considered outpatient) wearing a hip brace and on crutches.

The brace was extremely uncomfortable and it took me a while to get my balance and strength back to crutch properly.
One thing I wasn't prepared for was the muscle weakness following this surgery. I guess I kinda minimized it in my head knowing the PAO was the bigger surgery, and kinda expected to be totally fine after this one.
Stupid I know...maybe wishful thinking?
One thing I was really excited for was rest. Working full time up until the night before surgery was rough. I had been in pain for so long on a daily basis that going into surgery was kind of a relief. Like now I had an excuse to stay home in bed and rest.
Sleeping in a brace was difficult, but eventually I found ways to get comfortable with many  pillows and enough exhaustion. 
I stayed home for 4 days and returned to work on day 5. More about that another time....

I know its not cancer...



 I know it's only temporary for the most part, and I am so thankful for that. But going thru this can feel like a terrible illness. It can be really isolating. And it can be extremely painful. It takes over your life, and it feels like everything was taken from you. And no one gets it. They try to, but they can't. It's impossible to get it unless you have it. Finding the PAO support group  (PAO is abbreviated name for surgery we need) on Facebook was a life savor. I finally had people who understood me, who could support me, and who can advise me.  It was through this group and through a friend I met through a mutual friend, that I got to the right doctors and was able to make the right decisions for my treatment. This whole year feels like a fog to me. I got "sick" in February and since then everything is a blur. I feel like last summer was only a couple of months ago, because since February, my whole life came to a halt. Everything was about doctors, research into treatment methods, learning about my condition, and seeing how much pain I could withstand each day. It took me 5 consults with orthopedic surgeons, and until the end of May to make my treatment decision, and my first surgery was June 4th.

"Mommy get into the cart, I will push you"

4-19-15

This morning I awoke feeling quite positive; Positive that I didn't have to run to the gym (Crossfit times are over), I didn't have to run to work (it's Sunday) and I had nothing on schedule until 12. So I laid in bed and and drank my coffee while enjoying a healthy breakfast. Later I found myself with a burst of energy and drive to get things down around the house , as my pain was at a low level, and while I still can, I might as well fold some laundry and organize. My husband turns to me and says "you're feeling good today". I tell him my pain has its ups and downs, and while it is at a low level I am going to take advantage. It's funny, how sometimes the pain almost disappears completely, and I almost convince myself in those moments that I'm healed. Like some crazy miracle happened and I really don't have dysplasia. And then just like that the pain returns with a vengeance.
My husband tells me to lay down and plan my days better. Like set things to do in increments. This feels helpful and upsetting at the same time. I know I have to do that, but I want so badly to feel normal again.  These small moments of limited pain, make me feel like I've suddenly grown a pair of wings, and all I want to do is fly.

Later that day...

After laying down a bit, I jump at the earliest moment of feeling the slightest bit better, because I realize it is Sunday, and it's my only day to run errands. I want to enjoy my life and get as much done as possible. And so I head off to target with my oldest and youngest child (9 yr old twins are at a sleepover). At first I am cruising along in some pain, but it is manageable. I know that my window of this level of pain is limited and I need to make the most of it, but at the same time I am a chronically slow shopper. I have this need to look at absolutely everything and then stand there analyzing how I would maybe put whatever item to use before dismissing it as unnecessary. And so, my pain gets to the point towards the end of our spree where it is unmanageable. My kids are acting loud and playful with each other and I tell them I need them to quiet down, because my leg is really hurting and I need to concentrate. I'm leaning over the cart trying not to throw up, because when the pain is this bad, I get extremely nauseous. My 7 yr old doesn't really get it (thankfully), and while my 12 yr old does not know the extent of my issue, she does know that I have a hurt leg and can't walk that much anymore. She tells me "mommy get into the cart and I will push you". I tell her " if daddy were here I probably would" I don't want to tell her how badly I'm feeling, but I can't help but share a bit of it in saying this. She tells me she's serious and I should get into the cart. This is so touching to me, and I am so thankful for having such an amazing daughter with such a good heart, but as much I would love to sit down, I can not make a scene like that, and will not have my daughter see me that crippled. So I lean on the cart for as much support as possible and finish up.
 Driving by the park on the way back home, I feel myself becoming engulfed in self pity and sorrow thinking about that part of my life being over. Going to the park and running around with the kids, showing off all proudly that I can do the monkey bars again (go CrossFIt), and just being plain normal, is all over. I catch myself quickly and remind myself not to go there. That path only leads to more sorrow and pain, and will not service me in any positive way. So instead I remind myself to take the good with the bad, to relish in the times where the pain is a lot more manageable, get things accomplished then, and know that when the pain returns with a vengeance, that is only my reminder of all the lessons this hip has taught me, and know that now is just my time to rest and enjoy my amazing and beautiful children and the incredible life my husband and I have built together. Sloooow down and breathe. Just breathe...

And so it started.....

I got "sick" in February 2015. I call it sick even though it's not really a sickness, because I have no other way to explain it, and "sick" is the word I feel best describes it. I was diagnosed with Hip Dysplasia in March 2015; It's not an injury , it's a congenital condition that can go un-diagnosed or non symptomatic for years. But eventually it acts up, and from there it progresses fairly quickly. My symptoms became rather "loud" beginning in February. Sure I had some hip pain and lower back pain before that, but not enough to warrant a doctor's visit or a decline in
activity. Beginning February 2015, I found myself progressively getting worse. I was heavy into crossfit and training daily at a competitive boxI was at the top of my game, had lost a lot of weight and inches, and was feeling amazing.  



And then it started happening.I couldn't back squat without severe pain in my lower back, which was actually my hip.I went to chiropractors, I went to physical therapy, and I decreased activity, slowly giving up more and more moves in crossift.But despite the therapy, treatments, and modifications, I wasn't getting any better. In fact I was getting worse, and quickly.I found myself unable to walk without a limp and was in constant pain on a daily basis. And so, I went in to see an orthopedist and heard the words "hip dysplasia" for the very first time.