Out of Place


Throughout the summer, I realized that anytime that I got up off Nana’s couch (or any other piece of furniture), my hip would pop out of the socket. I’d had that happen a few times before, and it had just required a little bit of walking and movement to pop it back into place. Sometime during the summer, it started taking more and more time and hurting quite a bit more when it would happen, until I ended up going several days with it out of place. My mom kept telling me to call the doctor, and I kept putting it off. (I never did tell the doctor.)  Trialia told me how to pop it back in, and I was able to do it. (I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked her for that.)

Since we moved back into our house, it has only popped out 2-3 times. And each of those times, I was able to pop it back in. It popped out again yesterday, but this time it was different. Instead of popping out while I was seated/getting up, it popped out while I was walking. And unlike the less painful incidents that didn’t necessarily hurt right when they happened, this one started to hurt while it happened and continues to hurt. It’s gotten worse as time has gone on. It feels like someone is stabbing me in the hip all the time, but when I put weight on it, it gets more intense, and when I lean over, it starts burning in my side and lower abdomen.

If the burning had started before 5 PM, then I would have called the family doctor and seen if they could check it out. Now, I’m just going to have to try and not upset it anymore so that I can make it until at least Monday. I have to have the CT done Monday (I had to reschedule it because dad’s court appearance was running late.), so maybe I should try to make it until at least Tuesday. I really don’t want to go to the ER over the weekend–or anytime.

Oy. Maybe it’ll get better without any help from a doctor. One can hope, right?


About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.