The pain began in January as a sort of nagging soreness near the top of my left hip. It'd come and go. It was concerning enough I saw my doc toward the end of the month. He ordered an MRI, but insurance wasn't keen on that straight away. Fine, physical therapy.

I kept hiking.

Except, COVID. It was April before I started with Edge Physical Therapy. We're there so often it feels like we should get our own parking spot. This was all teletherapy and by June it was clear therapy wasn't going to cut it. What do you think, insurance? Feel like paying for an MRI now?

I kept hiking.

The MRI was in July and it was immediately apparent I had a cam impingement in my left hip. Well crap.

I kept hiking.

I saw Dr. Bruckner at Proliance Orthopaedics in August. A couple more x-rays and we started the process of scheduling surgery. I opted for October. That's when the weather is at its most Northwest and adventuring is often sketchy. Except...

Insurance.

Wait. That's not 100% fair. The surgery was denied by insurance, but because the State of Washington wouldn't let them approve it. Let me explain. State law requires a medical board examine a couple of procedures every year to ensure they are safe, clinically effective, and fiscally responsible. The procedure I was to undergo hasn't had sufficient peer-reviewed studies to satisfy all three criteria so state-funded insurance plans (like the one I was on through Mrs. Moosefish's school district) couldn't cover it.

I kept hiking.

Appeal? Denied. Self-funded? Ugh. Plus the threat any complications wouldn't be covered knocked that out, too. Change insurance? My employer's open-enrollment wasn't until May. But... if I was dropped from my current insurance it would constitute a "qualifying life event" and open a special enrollment for me. FOR MEEEEE!

I stopped hiking. Mostly. Not entirely, of course, but the pain was now to the point I couldn't go a mile without being laid up for a day afterward. My last adventure was January 3 and boy did I pay for that.

January 7 was the date. At last. On January 4, I called my new insurance to get the info to pass along to the surgeons. What? You don't have me in your system? This is 2021. This isn't supposed to happen anymore! It took a day of scrambling, escalation, and near tears, but it was all straightened out.

The day of surgery itself wasn't too exciting. 8:15am arrival. COVID test. Get naked and sit in a robe answering questions. Have the surgeon draw on my hip with a Sharpie. Walk into the cold operating room. Have the 20-years-my-junior nurse tell me this was where modesty went out the window. The anesthesiologist said, "Good night," and I felt the cold snake up my arm just like I'd taken the red pill.

I vaguely remember that I talked to the nurse in recovery. "What kind of dog do you have?" _________ "Cool. Have I asked you that before?" "Several times." "Cool. What kind of dog do you have?" I have zero recollection of getting picked up by my father-in-law and driven home or exactly what we talked about. In fact, the next few days were a blur of waking up to take meds and going back to sleep.

I'm now a week and a half post-op. My first follow-up is this week. The second is four weeks after that. Then I start physical therapy again. The goal is to be mostly recovered by the time the snow starts to recede in June and back to full strength by backpacking season in July and August. The biggest challenge will be taking it easy and following directions to not rush recovery. We'll see if I can make that work.

Bonus content: If you've ever wanted to see the inside of my hip, you're in luck. Warning: It's nasty.