the "can't win, don't try" annals, instance #192
It has been a lonely summer. As I briefly mentioned, the last people I still saw regularly- honestly, the last people that I still saw at all- moved away at the beginning of June, and I have spent literally everyday alone since then, save my parents, who I am anything but close to. The closest thing I've had to a friend since that time has been the receptionist where I go for my physical therapy, she'd at least been a source of idle chat with anybody even remotely my age maybe a combined couple hours per week, and I was grateful for that, but she got a better job and has gone now too. It's okay, she wasn't even a friend, just a person, but she was the last person left in my life who I was seeing with any regularity other than my parents, who I unfortunately have to live with. Since she's been gone, I haven't had an actual discussion with anybody, just solid days of silence and solitude, seldom leaving the house, time spent watching tv, playing video games, occasionally reading, drinking alone, and generally wishing it were time for bed again because the waking day offers so little.
Look at me, not even talking about losing friends anymore, just plain anybody at all I have any sort of regular contact with. And now I don't even have anybody who falls under that description.
The point is that I've really only had one thing to look forward to this entire summer. Actually, I keep thinking of this as a summer problem, but really it's the one and only thing I've had to look forward to as far into the future as I can possibly see, as I don't believe that anybody who moved away will be coming back. Anyway, an Australian girl I've known very well for a long time online, though through a different medium than lj, will be visiting Seattle for a few days in the middle of July. This girl and I are very good friends, not just by internet but even ordinary standards; I couldn't venture to guess how many hundreds of hours I've likely spent talking with her via voice chat, ignoring other exchanges via messaging, email, etc. So though seeing the city is the main purpose of this Seattle leg of her trip (which was planned in its entirely before I even knew that she was coming), naturally she would like to meet me as well. I volunteered to be her (fairly poor) tour guide around Seattle; I figure I know enough of it and the locations of the major places to visit well enough to be of some use, at least. She booked a two bed hotel room, and I'll be staying with her while she's there, since it doesn't make much sense for me to travel back and forth from Tacoma each day, and also because this way we can stay out later and/or drink.
We've had a lot of fun in the month or so since deciding this, talking about places to go and things to do. I've looked forward to it immensely, not just because I'm going to meet a close internet friend in person for the first time (so close I don't even feel that paralyzing social anxiety that I normally would), but also just because it'll be literally the first thing I'll have had to do in about six weeks by then, with nothing else on my calendar before or after and no possibility of anything casual or unplanned cropping up, since I no longer see anybody in Tacoma at all. This is a big deal to me, I've thought about it most everyday.
Since I don't have a car (or a license; yes, further affirmation that I'm a loser), travel around the city will be by bus and on foot, which is plenty feasible in Seattle, but my physical condition is very poor. I never worked very hard at regaining the musculature I lost from chemotherapy/radiation and being bedridden for 4-5 weeks at a time repeatedly, and on top of that. I've constantly been on high doses of the steroid prednisone for around four years, which causes muscular atrophy. So it would really be an understatement to say that my stamina is low; it's practically non-existent. However, I realized almost immediately how difficult such a large amount of walking would be on me, and so as soon as I had this realization, I started challenging myself in physical therapy, exercising and walking daily at home, and eating a bit healthier. I've really been pushing the bar, particularly in therapy, where I've been increasing weights, reps, and time across the board. My therapist seems genuinely surprised with my progress.
Or at least, she did. A couple of weeks ago, my left hip started to hurt a moderate amount whenever I'd rotate my left leg. Figuring I'd pulled something or had mild tendinitis, I immediately stopped exercising this leg and gave that effort to icing my inner thigh frequently instead. But over the next ten days, instead of getting better, my hip got worse. What had been at first a moderate pain when rotating my leg gradually became severe pain whenever I'd move it in any way at all, and even just to have it bear weight. It hurt to walk or stand on. When I pointed out that I'd been gradually declining rather than recovering to my physical therapist, she became convinced all my increased weightbearing combined with my weak bones (thanks again, prednisone) must have resulted in a stress fracture, and insisted I get x-rayed right away. I did, but they didn't find any fracture.
A few days later, I went in to see my primary oncologist for a routine visit. Knowing that he'd have access to plenty of imaging technology and might have a better idea of what was wrong, I told him about my hip. His response was immediate, "It sounds like avascular necrosis to me." I'd heard the term many times before, but really only knew it as a pretty bad condition that sometimes develops with long term usage of prednisone (thanks again, prednisone). Never was there any elaboration as to what the condition actually was, or what I could do to try and prevent it. My doctor went on to state that my symptoms sounded exactly like necrosis, and even that he was surprised I hadn't developed it a long time ago, with all the steroids they've kept me on. He sent me off to get an MRI, and then home, leaving results pending for the next day.
The next day was Tuesday, of this week, about three days ago. I waited nervously all day, and 20 minutes before the close of business, I got a call that my cell identified as coming from my oncologist's private line. I knew right that second that I was done. My doctor has only ever called me directly himself, rather than have a nurse deliver news, three times, and they were all disastrously bad calls, things like informing me that my cancer had relapsed. When I answered the phone, it was with glum acceptance rather than anxiety, but even though I was right, I was still surprised by the news. My doctor grimly reported that I have avascular necrosis- not only in my left hip, but in both. He told me I should get onto crutches right away, and that he'd put me in contact with orthopedic surgeons who'd be able to tell me more.
I linked up above to wikipedia's entry on this condition, but the short version is that AVN is the death of bone tissue due to a lack of blood supply, eventually resulting in collapse of the bone itself. It's generally found in people age 50+, but lucky me, I always get all the sweetest ailments. Treatments range from use of crutches, physical therapy, and electrical stimulation (in less developed cases) to a bevy of invasive surgeries, including total hip replacement, bone grafts, and core decompression (in more developed cases). My doctor didn't really tell me how severe my AVN is at the moment, but a lot can be gleaned from the fact that he referred me directly to orthopedic surgeons without discussing any of the non-invasive treatment methods whatsoever. Regardless, AVN is a condition that continually gets worse, and cannot be reversed, so based on my reading, at my age it seems that total hip replacement is an inevitability for both of my hips, whether it's immediate or ten years down the line.
And so, as horrible as this news is for my long term health, it is equally devastating in the short term. On crutches, I won't really be able to get around Seattle on foot. The orthopedic surgeons scheduled me to meet with them at their very first available appointment- the first of three days my Australian friend will be in Seattle- and I really have no choice but to go then, as pushing this back could allow my condition to worsen and alter my treatment options. Plus, I really didn't want my friend's first and only impression of me to be of a sick kid pathetically wobbling around on crutches. But such is life, not at all surprising anymore in its capacity to viciously cripple and take. It only makes sense that I would spend weeks and weeks working on my physical condition, to then be diagnosed with a condition that not only makes me unable to walk, but will quite possibly leave me crippled entirely. Otherwise I might have succeeded at something, reached just one goal, and not been victim to another of the many dark ironies which have consumed approaching five full years of my life now.
Every time I think I have truly come to terms with the fact that it is my simple, unwavering destiny to be sick and alone indefinitely, or at least until such a time at which my life is finally cut short, something happens to demonstrate to me that a single ribbon of hope for recovery and an eventual return to normalcy has unfortunately regrown, rooted in the very back of my mind, just waiting to be excised yet again. If there is a God, he has a sick sense of humor, and I have no doubt that I'll see him in hell.