This Marks the Spot

I hate being a whiney-butt. Especially when I'm whining about a pain in my butt. Or, more accurately, my hip. I have chronic trochanteric bursitis where my right femur bone fits into my hip socket.

However if the occasion warrants, in spite of my whining-adverse tendencies, I whine to my heart's content. After all, what's a blog for if not for sharing anything at all, including whining? So here goes: Yes, my right hip hurts like HECK. And my pain is completely typical of this condition. This from the Cleveland Clinic:

Trochanteric bursitis typically causes the following symptoms:

• Pain on the outside of the hip and thigh or in the buttock.
• Pain when lying on the affected side.
• Pain when you press in on the outside of the hip.
• Pain that gets worse during activities such as getting up from a deep chair or getting out of a car.
• Pain with walking up stairs.

l've been dealing with TrB for three years. After all this time, I know the drill when these symptoms flare: I get out my ice packs, pop a few ibuprofen, try to rest the joint, and when my pain causes me to limp and I find the need to haul out Candy the cane I call Dr. Young Guy to ask if it would be appropriate to do another steroid injection into the bursa to calm things down.

So, here's where the whining ensues: yep, my hip hurts like crazy, yes, I'm finding it really hard to go up steps, and yes, the pain is causing me to limp requiring the use of a cane.

I made the call, and am heading in for my injection tomorrow. After three years, I have a pretty good idea of what will transpire at the visit. Dr. YG will do a brief exam while asking more about my symptoms. We'll probably discuss the potential for the Portland Trail Blazers basketball team to win the playoffs, and then he'll ask me to point to the exact spot where my pain is the worst. Which is where he'll do the injection after palpating the area for the bone landmarks.

I decided this time I'd save myself the trouble of poking and prodding my outer hip on the exam table by finding THE spot myself at home. And then marking it with a Sharpie. Just like this one.

This seemed like a good idea at the time. And how hard could it be?

Yeah. Well.....the whining continues:

So y'all know me well enough to realize that nothing is simple; and nothing is easy; and most of my ideas aren't especially good ones. But then, being me, usually still plow ahead when inspiration strikes anyway.

I rummaged around in my junky junk drawer to find my Sharpie marker. I usually keep several of these things around because they're pretty useful for lots of things. I don't think I've ever used one to mark anywhere on my person before, though. After choosing the black (thinking that the metallic gold may be a bit too gaudy for a medical procedure) I headed over to the family room carpet and plopped down and wiggled my butt out of my yoga pants.

This was not an attractive pose.

Then I slung my right leg as far as I could over my left, and immediately whapped my leg into the couch after which I realized that I had plopped myself too close to the furniture, which prompted me to scootch over. Which twisted my yoga pants and underwear into a rather unusual and um....uncomfortable configuration. I decided further wiggling and scootching wasn't worth the effort, so began to probe my hip for the most painful spot.

This is hard to do lying on your back, one leg swung completely over the other, with your undies in a bundle, and your left hand clutching a Sharpie. (I'm left handed.) Ah, but I'm a persistent person, and after much fumbling around with my right hand, decided on the perfect injection location. Then realized that I had left the cap on the Sharpie.

Oh, brother.

I took my right index finger off of THE SPOT and reluctantly decided to begin the process anew after uncapping the marker. I un-bundled my yoga pants and repeated my gyrations, confidently sent my left hand over to my right hip while lying on my back, with one leg swung completely over the other, and my undies in a bundle (yes, it happened again. Don't ask me how) and after another painful few minutes found THE SPOT. Then I realized that in this position, I couldn't see where THE SPOT was. Which was problematic because I have a tremor. And not particularly good hand-eye coordination especially without the eye part.

You can guess what happened next.

Yeah. I had envisioned putting a small, perfectly placed black dot on my hip. But instead, after making the mark and unwinding myself and standing up to scrutinize my efforts, realized that what I had done is to create a series of scrawls that looked like a Chinese character tattoo.

I pondered my situation for a few minutes during which it occurred to me that I was glad that I had left my shades down on my curtains seeing as my pants were still mid-thigh. It also occurred to me that Sharpies are PERMANENT MARKERS.

Yeah.

I hopped over to the bathroom, sudsed a washcloth up with hand soap, and scrubbed away to no avail. It appears that my hip scribble is there to stay until it wears off.

.::facepalm::.

Once again, I found myself thinking WHAT WAS I THINKING?

People. I'm hopeless. I'll let y'all know what Dr. Young Guy says when he sees my artwork. I'm so embarrassed. But he knows me and actually, in all probability won't be surprised at all.

I'll bet you aren't, either.