I did the work. I want you to know that.
Doctor #1.
My GP. She pressed on my hip for 90 seconds and said bursitis. Ice it. Take Aleve.
Three weeks later it came back the same.
By the end of that month I was holding the nightstand to get out of bed.
Doctor #2.
Physical therapy. Clamshells three times a week.
$800 over 12 weeks.
She said it gets worse before it gets better and that I wasn't trying hard enough.
I was crying in my car after every session. But sure. Not trying hard enough.
Halfway through PT I started sleeping on the couch because lying flat made my hip throb.
Doctor #3.
Pain management. Cortisone shot.
$450 the first time. $450 the second. $450 the third.
Three beautiful weeks. Then two. Then ten days. "Diminishing returns," he called it.
I said what's the point.
By the third shot I was taking the elevator at work for one floor.
Doctor #4.
Orthopedic specialist. X-ray. MRI. Full workup.
$1,200 for the imaging. $3,800 for the visit.
He went through the names like he was reading a menu. Bursitis. Then arthritis. Then a labral tear.
Finally a word I'd never heard: gluteal tendinopathy.
In the same breath he said "hip replacement."
Like it was a haircut.
I sat in my car after that appointment and didn't drive home for an hour.
Four doctors. Four wrong answers. Not one of them ever asked why my tendon couldn't repair itself.
And a cabinet of bottles that never reached my hip.
Glucosamine. Turmeric. Two collagen powders. Move Free. Provitalize. A foam roller I couldn't even get on the floor to use.
Every label promised joint support.
$6,250 later, my hip was worse than the day I walked into the first office.