Yesterday Craze and I drove to the suburbs to catch some fireworks in the evening. We thought it would be less crazy and crowded than the downtown festivities. But when we got there, it was manic. Cars everywhere. No parking.
We ended up parking quite far away and it got me a little worried. You see one of my crazy pregnancy complications of the past week or so is that my right hip has just decided that it doesn't like working very well. And when it does, it can be really painful. Like that pain surprise that takes your breath away and stops you in your tracks.
So, we get out of the Vue and start making our way to the firework festivities. I'd only gone less than a block, when the pain starts kicking in. Before long I'm hobbling along at a snail's pace just like Hank Hill's dad on King of the Hill. You know, the old cartoon war veteran who had both of his shins shot off in some foreign conflict. Yeah. That one.
We finally get to a good viewing spot and the fireworks were, indeed, great. Colorful and fun. But then it was time to hobble back.
I'm not sure how long it took, but eventually we got back to the car. Craze was very patient, giving me his arm for support and sharing my geriatric pace all along the way.
But lordy--I hate feeling like I'm an 80 years old and in desperate need of a hip replacement. I really wish I could just take a bunch of ibuprofen but that is verboten. Instead, I keep taking the limited amount of Tylenol I'm allowed to digest in a day, but it's not really doing me much good.
I have a doc appointment later this week and I'm really hoping they have some good ideas on how to get my hip back to normal. I'm so frustrated!