For a few months now, my left hip has been sporadically locking into stiffness, prompting me to hobble around till it rights itself – usually on its own, after a night’s sleep or a hot shower. It tended to start happening more often and then a couple of days back, it simply froze, into blinding, excrutiating agony. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t lift my legs, all I could do was stand, holding on to things while balancing on my good leg.
And while I tend to avoid making trips to doctors, unless it is critical, faced with my husband’s annoyance at not having gotten it checked on time previously, we made the trek in – after arguing about who to consult. And while I obviously felt morose (BECAUSE OF THE PAIN), I was also annoyed at how anything which necessitates me snapping out of being in control everyday is met with irritation on my husband’s part. Yes, he had to take the day off and take me in, yes, he had to bath and feed the baby, but drumming up some sympathy would have been nice.
Thankfully, the doctor was sensible and calming, we returned feeling better, armed with sprays and painkillers. Apparently it could be because of all the time I spent sitting on the floor (two young kids, right, I certainly do spend all my day on the floor, plus a couple of hours over the weekend, frozen in front of the TV) and that I have to avoid doing that for the next 3 weeks. Fine, that too.
My husband ran right back to office, the minute we were home, not unexpectantly, but leaving me feeling that familiar feeling, of being abandoned, of nothing ever warranting a day off to shore up me and his family. My babies were brilliant, cooperating each step of the way, as were the maids, stepping up as best they could.
I blame the pregnancy and the caesareans on every niggling health issue which comes up, and they may well be to blame of course. But more than that, in my head, I went right back to the familiar, locked up in this tiny home with kids on my head, no job, nowhere to be, overweight and frumpy awfulness. And with being physically handicapped, it just escalated it into madness. It is so hard, with young kids, you’re on call all the time, and you can do 99 things right, but the 100th thing wrong is enough for a meltdown.
I dialled into the sympathy by telling my mom and my few close friends, who all wished me well, so to speak, held out virtual hands and hugs, which eventually only reminded me of how alone I am.
I’ve been nursing the hip and today on day 3, it seems so much better and I hope will be all fine. And I can slowly return to picking up the pieces – a clean, organized home, a potential job, weight loss – all the many things which weigh me down. But it overwhelms me, how a single incident requires so much picking after, how fragile is my sense of being in control. And how it is always me, alone, at the end of day, making sense of it in my head, promising myself to be tougher, to not go to pieces, to stay strong.
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