I had planned to stay in Florida for the full summer, until early August at least. But the results from my MRI changed my carefully concocted plans.

I boarded the auto train a month earlier than I thought I would and headed home, to the unknown – but surrounded by the known of a great need to figure out what was going on with my hip.

Side story: God’s time > ours. Unexpectedly, the day I got my ticket to take the train home was the same day that one of my closest friends Tyler and hProcessed with VSCOcam with t1 presetis family had planned to return home from FL, too. I’ve never known anyone else who had ridden the auto train, but being able to travel home not alone was such a gift.

Before I had even left Florida, I had scheduled an appointment at the Rothman Institute. “Word on the street” was that Rothman was the place to go for orthopedic injuries. Their ratings were superb; their doctors educated; their statistics outstanding.
It was a promising place for answers and direction.

My intent of retelling my hip story is not to be critical or degrading. However, my experience at Rothman was pivotal and painful, so I think it is necessary to include.

I saw three doctors through Rothman. One out of the three was hopeful for my healing. The other two…not so much.

One told me I’d never run again.

One told me that maybe if he cut out my vocal chords I would stop complaining.

After that last bit of “professional medical advice,” my mom and I walked out of Rothman and never walked back.

It was weeks since I had returned from Florida, and I felt like I had done nothing but step backwards. Rothman seemed like a dead end.

Until one day…

My family likes to eat dinner outside when it’s warm. We have this nice deck space, and we bring our food outside and sit around, enjoying the weather as the sun begins its descent.

On one of these summer evenings in late July, my mom said she had something to share with me.

She pulled out her iPad and asked me to watch a video she found…

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPan_QFt-kY]

I was speechless after I watched it.

I felt like I was her, I was the girl in the video, who had doctors give her empty advice, who had been told running was an impossibility.

For the first time I had hope.

Who knew that CHOP, the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, offered a program for those who were above the age of children and had hip injuries.

An answer to prayer.

We wasted no time in scheduling an appointment with Dr. Wudbhav Sankar at CHOP in the hub of Philadelphia’s University City.

Maybe, just maybe, we would find answers in this unlikely place.

0 thoughts on ““You’ll Never Run Again.” | My Hips Don’t Lie: Part 8

  1. Lindsey, good post! I like the pictures you put in your post as well, it added to the overall look of your blog post. A bit of a cliffhanger at the end! Overall, nice job Lindsey!

  2. aaahhh — after the absurdity of Rothman……hope begins to appear from the darkness! (p.s. love the deck when the sun is setting… well, at least in the summer months!)

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