Terrace Diary: Hip Pain at 49 – Osteoarthritis, MRI & Physio Update (July 2026)

Hola Terrace Crew!

Pull up a lounger – I’ll be over here with an ice pack balanced on my hip and a comically large non-alcoholic sangria (doctor’s orders… probably).

It’s the glittering start of July and, honestly, my hip has gone full Spanish telenovela. Speaking of which, I’ve been binge-watching Jane the Virgin again – the perfect mix of drama and ridiculous joy while I’m stuck dealing with my own plot twists.

After the latest round of “let’s try this” with a new doctor and physio, I was prescribed the sensible stuff: gentle swimming and early-morning dog walks with Missy to strengthen the muscles around my dodgy hip.

So every day I was in the pool doing my heroic little lengths, then optimistic sunrise strolls with the dog, until Saturday. Things already felt “a bit off,” but I powered through my normal swim anyway. Got out of the pool, took one step… and click. A noise that was definitely not on the physio’s approved playlist. By the afternoon the pain had gone from annoying to full “why did I ever trust this body?” territory.

I saw the physio on Tuesday. She looked horrified and booked me an emergency same-day appointment with the traumatologist. The doctor was not impressed I’d carried on. (In my defence, I was literally just following instructions!)

The medical plot twists keep getting better. One year of my GP telling me I’m “too young for hip pain” (cheers for that sparkling advice). Then a traumatologist says it’s osteoarthritis – physio will help… for a while… but eventually I’ll probably need a replacement. Yesterday’s doctor took one look and said, “Hmm, I think we’ve got two different things going on here,” and sent me straight for an MRI. Very reassuring. Very painful.

Wednesday morning was the MRI grand finale. They strap your toes together like you’re auditioning for some very niche yoga video, shove earbuds in, hand you a panic ball (“squeeze if you’re scared”), and slide you into the noisy tube of doom. I lasted about 0.3 seconds before my leg staged a full rebellion. Tears streaming, hip screaming, machine clanging like it was building a warship around me. It felt like the longest 20 minutes of my life. When they finally pulled me out, I looked like I’d been through a car wash on the wrong setting.

This morning (Thursday) I was back at physio – thankfully no surprises this time. Just 20 minutes on the TENS machine and a lovely heat pad on the hip. The physiotherapy doctor is waiting on the MRI results and hoping nothing is broken. Fingers crossed.

So here we are. Another week, another chapter in my Hip Saga. MRI results pending, sanity levels… questionable at best. But the terrace is still sunny, Missy still demands her walks (much shorter ones now), and the sangria is properly ice-cold. Small mercies.

I’ll keep you posted every week on this glorious (if slightly painful) adventure. In the meantime, if anyone has hip-related wisdom, miracle cures, or just wants to send virtual ice packs and memes, my inbox is open, i would love hear your stories and what has helped you through this.

Joanne x