Since I was a kid, I have always been active. I was put into dance classes as soon as I could walk. I spent my middle school years on the soccer field and my teens balancing my time between a dance studio and the gym. Doing the splits or running through choreography were parts of my everyday life. Until I began my sophomore year of college.
This past December, I underwent a periacetabular osteotomy surgery, also known as a PAO surgery. Before my surgery, I had never even heard of it. Now, it is something that has completely altered how I move, plan my days and see my body.
A PAO surgery is a major hip surgery used to correct hip dysplasia, a condition where the hip socket does not fully cover the ball of the joint. During the procedure, the surgeon will cut parts of the pelvis (or even the femur if necessary) and rotate the hip joint into the correct position. Then, the surgeon uses three to five long titanium screws to repair the breaks. The surgery is done to reduce pain and prevent long-term joint damage. And for me, it also meant stepping away from parts of my life.
Before receiving my diagnosis, I assumed constant hip pain was simply the result of years of activity. I often spent more time in a dance studio than I did at home. The pain had to be from pushing my body to its limits for hours on end, right?
Wrong.
Hip dysplasia is often a genetic condition that develops during infancy. While it is typically caught early and solved with the use of a brace or cast, adults with the condition often require surgery. I was stepping into this experience completely blind. I had never undergone surgery or broken a bone before, and yet I was being told I would have to face both.
Recovery from PAO surgery is not quick. For five weeks, I relied on crutches just to move around. Simple tasks like walking around my apartment, seeing friends or climbing stairs required extreme planning and patience. Even with a smooth recovery, returning to a fast-paced college lifestyle caused slowing down to feel frustrating.
I felt like I was watching my life happen from the sidelines.
My friends were having fun going out to parties, participating in sports and attending club events, or at least moving through their days without thinking through every step they took. Meanwhile, I was focused on my small victories like putting my shoes on, walking across campus or being able to touch my toes. College culture often celebrates being busy, balancing courses, clubs, jobs and social lives. My surgery made that temporarily impossible.
The most difficult challenge I faced has been dance.
Dance has been a constant in my life, even when I took a small step back from it after high school. In college, dance became one of the ways I found community and balance. Rehearsals offered my week’s structure and performances gave me something to look forward to each semester. Suddenly, that part of my routine disappeared.
Another challenge has been adjusting to how my body feels now. After surgery, everything felt unfamiliar. Movements that were once natural suddenly required lots of effort and focus. I had to relearn how to stand, how to walk, even how to lie down comfortably. Even shifting my weight from one side to the other felt like something I had to consciously direct rather than instinctively do. There were times I would pause mid-movement, unsure of how to continue when certain muscles felt disconnected. Muscles that I never thought about previously suddenly demanded my constant attention. The physical disconnect I felt was frustrating. I knew what I wanted my body to do, but it no longer responded in the same way.
I have always trusted my body to do what I ask of it. During recovery, I had to rebuild that trust with myself. Some days were encouraging, and other days reminded me that healing is not a linear process. There were days when I felt strong: each step seemed smooth and familiar. But there were days when my body felt heavy and uncooperative; even the simplest actions felt discouraging. But slowly, that trust in myself began to return. Not necessarily in the same way as before, but in a more intentional and deeper way.
While my experience has been complicated emotionally, it has given me a new perspective. It showed me how resilient my body can be. I have a newfound appreciation for my ability to move, which is something I had been taking for granted until now. It has shown me how to ask for support in times of need. And it has taught me that taking a step back from something you love does not mean losing it forever.
I am still in the process of healing, and I do not know when exactly I will return to dance. What I do know is that this experience has changed how I listen to my body. I will no longer just push through pain or stay constantly busy, but rather, be patient with myself and allow my body the time it needs to recover. If you are a student going through an injury, it can feel isolating in a college environment. But celebrating the small victories, remembering that healing takes time and remaining gentle with yourself will help carry you through any recovery experience.