I feel weird, like I'm just discarding part of my body. That doesn't seem right. I've had my hip for 51 years, and it'll be gone, either incinerated or at the bottom of some medical waste dump by noon on Good Friday. I feel as if I should thank it for being around for so long. My best years with it were when I was in taekwondo. It helped me to achieve my black belt. I got second place in women's regional sparring. I could kick really high, which surprised a lot of my opponents, and helped me score three points each time I made contact. I still have my trophy. I would have gotten first but some naughty chick kicked me in the stomach and knocked the wind out of me for the rest of the tournament. I still haven't gotten over that.
To my hip:
Thank you for being there for me after all these years. I am sorry but you have to go. Over the past year, you've caused me a lot of pain. I wish I'd taken better care of you...kept the weight off...so we didn't have to part so soon. I'll take responsibility for that. I promise I'll do better with this implant. I want to be healthy. I will be healthy. I am eliminating as many processed food as I can. I'm becoming a whole foods girl because of you. I didn't know that you had a birth defect either. Guess that's something that should have been detected by doctors when I was born. I want so badly to be pain free. I want to walk again without a noticeable limp. I want to swim without wincing. I want to dance in the living room, letting Adam Levine know that I too can move like Jagger. I want to walk my dog everyday. I'd like to also enroll her in agility classes, so we can do even more fun activities together. I want to toss my cane in the trash. Or use it to hold up tomato bushes this summer. As you can see, right hip, I have a number of plans. Thank you so much. I appreciate you making me become aware of my body. That's what's really key in this whole thing. I wish you peace. And, most importantly, I love you.
