After getting worked by the rest of the set, I was able to sail in wincing. I got to the beach, was beat up by the shore break in my mini-agony moment, and was able to hobble over to the dune. Jacob saw me and came in. I told him I didn't think I could sail my gear back up, so he sailed it up to the launch and I went to go sit in the car. I didn't want to ruin the day for him and tell him to pack it up because it was just so damn good out there. I sat in the car for a while. My hip and upper leg were throbbing to the point where I thought I was going to vomit. Jacob came back about 45 minutes later to check on me, and I told him I thought it would be good to get it checked out. We went over to the hospital in Kahului and I waited an hour and half, popping all the advil I could get my hands on.
My friend Sierra from previous board tests is an ER nurse at the hospital, so she came over to see if she could help get me looked at sooner. After about six Advil, I was feeling an awful lot better. I could stand up and walk around on my own. I was going to be called next, but decided to save on my insurance deductible and put myself on an ibuprofen diet.
The next week or so would be light sailing. The days I pushed myself even the slightest bit would aggravate my hip. My friend Ingrid Larouche, who happens to be an excellent physical therapist, told me that it appeared I injured my bursa, which is a fluid filled sack at the top of the hip. It sits right next to a nerve, so that would explain all the shooting pains and difficulty sleeping. The program for this type of injury just so happens to be rest and advil. About 10 days after the injury, I was pretty much fine. It turns out that I'm just a wuss with no pain tolerance. Go figure.