What really happened to my hip?
I tried riding the boar. We took a few graceful steps together and then he grumbled something about how I never give him as many watermelon treats as I give to his friend, Peggy. And in in shock, I fell off the boar’s haunches and busted my hip.
I joke! The warm summer morning I hurt my hip was just a regular day on the farm. It was mid-June, and the alarm went off at 445am. We pressed the snooze button once or twice. And then we got up, held hands, and went for our morning walk.
I took a glorious run on one of my favorite trails near the farm. And when I lifted my leg to get out of the shower to start the day, I felt something give way and heard a POP so loud that you’d have thought I was in there celebrating with a bottle of bubbly.
The first few weeks after the accident were hard – a constant and intense throbbing sensation with lots more popping. The popping eventually improved with months of physical therapy. But the pain persisted until I had the injury repaired surgically last month.
I took the advice of a writing mentor of mine and decided not to share from a place of open wounds. As much as I was struggling – not just with the pain but with the loss of function – I focused my writing and my sharing elsewhere on the farm and waited.
I don’t know if it’s because I took my first steps without crutches this week. Or if it’s just the experience of feeling comfortable again, but this week I wanted to share how it happened (see above) and something else I’ve been thinking about, too.
Before the accident, Greg and I would sometimes talk about what it would be like if one of us were to get seriously injured. We always imagined that a physical injury like this would make the farm come to a stand-still. And that image? Well, it made our hearts sink.
But now that we’ve done it – had one of us out of almost all physical work for almost 4 months – I’m in awe because besides some dirty dishes that piled up from time to time and a few extra cobwebs here and there (have I told you how much I miss vacuuming?), nothing stopped.
We slowed down. We leaned on friends and family. We asked for help. But, we kept going. We kept going! Not because it was easy. But because we know that growing ahhh-maazzzing food on this little slice of wonder in Henrietta is our thing! A busted hip and whatever curveball comes next…could never temper that.