Six months ago I injured my back while attempting to train
for a half marathon. I pushed through for a couple of months as I fell further
and further behind my training buddies, until finally it occurred to me that
needing to stop every couple of minutes to punch my fist into my left hip was
probably not a normal thing.
As far as everyone in my everyday life knew, I was fine. I
was still working and lifting things as usual, perhaps stepping a bit more
carefully on uneven footing and pausing to brace myself before coughing. When I
didn’t get better after a month of rest I wound up in a physical therapist’s
office, where she figured out that my entire left pelvic wing was rotated out
of whack. After a lot of therapy, ice, and Advil, I’m back on track.
I think about this a lot when I’m working with senior pets.
One of the most common things people say to us when they bring in older pets
is, “Oh, he’s just old and slowing down.” When we suggest that perhaps there is
a painful condition, such as osteoarthritis, the client often replies, “Oh,
he’s fine—he’s not crying.”
I would like to state for the record that for all the times
I winced as shooting pain went up and down my spine, each gritting of the teeth
and slow roll out of bed in the morning while I worked out the kinks in my
pelvis, I never once cried out. The times I have cried out in pain? When I shut
my finger in the car door and when I dropped the vacuum on my foot. That is the
difference between chronic and acute pain.
To read more on this story, click here: How to Uncover Your Pet's Secret Pain
