We started on this diagnostic path by giving me a bone scan today. They took extra shots of my sternum (of course), my lower back, and my left hip. Hopefully they'll get some information from that. I know that I'll be having an MRI at some point and I might get as CT scan of the left hip, too. But the bone scan is a start.
I saw the physiotherapist today and she recommended that I not over-exert my hip or back. So no curling for sure, and no going to the gym. She suggested that I use a cane for walking (I am allowed to walk, preferably inside with a smooth floor) so as to not put too much strain on my hip. A cane. I'm almost 40 and I have my first cane. Yippee?
She also said that the cane doesn't help with balance, only support, and if my leg gives out again that I should get a walker. I don't think I'm ready for a walker, you know? Although the prospect of using it to push my way around does have a certain appeal. Still, I feel too young for a walker.
Through all of this, I'm flooded with memories of what happened last year. At some point in the future, I'll remember my dad's death by the actual dates, but this year I'm remembering it by the days of the week. So a year ago yesterday, Ian and I were trying to fly to Edmonton but were grounded for the night because of a terrible snowstorm. We ended up sharing a cab and driving all over the place to get home... when we got there, we found out that the tickets that had been issued had been issued for the Friday instead of the Thursday. I crumpled into a ball of tears while Ian got that sorted out.
We made it out to Edmonton a year ago today and went to my parent's place. In preparation for the surgery, my dad had to clean out his system so we went out and watched a movie. I don't even remember which one it was. We had ice cream, too, before going back. Then we spent the evening with my mom and dad, chit-chatting.
I still cry when these memories come to the surface. It's part of the grieving process - in some ways it's harder to re-live something than to live through it the first time. The first time something like this happens, you don't really know how something is going to turn out. But when you remember it, you know how it ended. Talking to my dad the night before surgery is a hard memory because I didn't know that this would be the last evening we spent hanging out. I miss my daddy so much.