De Pain! De Pain! (In the Voice of the Late Hervé Villechaize of Fantasy Island Fame)
I accomplished a lot this weekend, I cleaned my house from top to bottom, tended to my tulips in the flower beds, planted peas, beets and radishes in my garden (while wearing the cutest pair of rain boots on planet Earth. Seriously, why did I not think of rain boots prior to ruining umpteen pairs of tennis shoes in years past?), did enough laundry to clothe the population of a small country, shopped for groceries, cooked fabulous meals and even had time to finish off a bottle of really good Pinot Grigio all the while in so much pain, it’s a wonder I didn’t throw up.
Seriously; this hip pain is for the birds. I am so tired of constantly limping about like a pirate on a peg leg and of feeling a searing pain shoot through my pelvis when I turn just so and, as much as I hate to admit it; I think it is time to abandon the advice of Drs. Google and Bing and to seek out the advice of an actual physician.
Or, a chiropractor although, my insurance doesn’t cover chiropractic care and I’m not certain that I even believe in it as a viable medical field. And, fine, I admit; I’ve never actually seen what it entails, I’m just guessing feathered headdresses, chicken feet, chanting, and a bill for two meelion dollars upon receipt of services. I could be totally wrong and, if I'm not and a little chicken-foot waving magically takes the pain away, I am in, two meelion dollars or not.
So, yes. A trip to some professional is in order. Unfortunately, I doubt I will be able to see anyone prior to our trip to Mesa Verde so; I will just have to plan on hiking ancient ruins while in pain, pausing occasionally to wail de pain! de pain! in an accent that kids will have absolutely no understanding of whatsoever.
Wow. How sad is that?