There is a section of the social media platform Reddit titled "AITA?" It is an acronym for "Am I the A—-le?" It is a place for moral rumination about whether one's own behavior is objectionable, or at fault.

AITA?

I had an experience in a Brooklyn bathhouse yesterday, which elicited a lot of feelings. They are, in many social worlds now, inadmissible feelings. But, as I promised God (and you), I would always tell the truth here, because I didn't die of sepsis in 2023. So I'll share these feelings — and you decide. AITA?

I've been in physical pain for some time. Sadly the pain is getting worse. You know already that I deal with a nerve-related condition: I was born with spina bifida occulta, a condition in which the spine, though not exposed, does not fully fuse around the spinal cord. My seeking ways to not be stricken by this potentially serious condition, has led to what I feel, paradoxically enough, is the great blessing of my education as an amateur, in alternative health and healing treatments. All the weird non-allopathic things I do and take, have, thank God, helped me to defy my former allopathic neurologists' brochure, which explained that I would be in a wheelchair, slowly losing various functions, in a matter of time.

But even the best of alternative practices (all of which I do) and supports and herbs and supplements (all of which I take) can't completely heal a structural problem, or a bad injury, or a structural problem exacerbated by a bad injury.

In the past month, I learned, from new MRIs and X-Rays, and from a new physician whom I trust, that not only do I have pleasure of having spina bifida occulta, but that I also have the bonus defect of bilateral hip dysplasia. You may have heard of this charming condition from its occurrence in overbred dogs . This is a condition in which both hip sockets are abnormally shallow, and thus cannot fully cover and support the top of the femur. Bilateral hip dysplasia in humans can cause instability, limping, pain, and early arthritis.

So — I put this off with alternative treatments for a year, but now there is no way to avoid it; I am scheduled for surgery shortly.

This information, and this experience, have been drains on my sense of self, and they have left me with a welter of difficult emotions. I don't see myself as someone weak or physically fragile. Yet I am limping. I don't see myself as someone to pity. Yet people pity me, as I struggle to get in and out of cabs, or walk up stairs one step at a time, with one active leg. I am lucky to have an amazing husband, who makes unprintable and very reassuring jokes about all of this; though he is nothing but supportive, I for my part don't want him to be married to someone who can't hike, ski, dance, run; someone for whom he needs to wait as we walk. I want him to be married to a superheroine.