One year post-op surgeon's visit

I'm sure you all know I'd rather be writing about the state of the Republic these days, but I just can't. CAN'T. cantcantcant. It's so hard to live through, I don't want to experience it twice by actually recording my thoughts about it.

My hip surgery, however, I will write about, because I began recording those experiences with the goal of helping someone else who might stumble across the blog as he or she was facing a total hip replacement.

I'm not nervous in the surgeon's waiting room (as I am in, say, a dentist's waiting room), so the long wait wasn't traumatic. Just boring. I'm pretty good at being patient, and knowing it took nearly an hour to get there and would take another to return if I walked out kept me planted in my seat.

I was x-rayed (everything is in place, exactly where it's supposed to be), and finally taken to an exam room for a talk with the doc.

He asked if I was having any problems, and I still have trouble going up and down stairs and bending to put a sock on or to tie my shoe (right side only). I thought it might be because of my weight, but when he began pressing hard on the muscles, the pain was pretty surprising.

He explained that the muscle had atrophied, needed to be built up (I should probably have done more physical therapy last year), and could be managed with another round of PT. I mentioned how disappointed I was that I weigh now exactly what I weighed when I had the surgery (which is about 50 pounds more than I'd like). He is the FIRST DOCTOR EVER to reassure me that it's not my fault, and added that once I gain back some muscle in my right hip I'll be able to be much more active.

I take that to mean that if I'm not more active, it will be my own damned fault.

At any rate … I have an appointment Monday with the physical therapist. A gym membership is part of my Medicare benefits, and I can use their equipment to do the therapy between PT appointments. 

A friend also suggested yoga might be helpful, so I asked the doctor about that. He expressed some concern that I wouldn't be able to maintain a perfect posture for some poses, but in general he encouraged me to do what I could do to help with flexibility and balance.

All in all, I'm pleased with the plan and motivated to begin. I'm hopeful for a good outcome, and I realize that I'll get out of it exactly what I put into it.

I wore a red shirt (in solidarity with International Women's Day) to my appointment, and stopped for a coffee on the way home. One of the baristas asked if I was wearing red for women's day, and she said she would have, but the company dress code doesn't include red. But she said, "I'm with you!" and I felt kind of bad that she was serving me on women's day, and all I could do was say, "No, I'm with YOU."

And leave her a nice tip.

Happy hip-a-versary

A year ago yesterday, about this time, I was being prepped for surgery. My hip joint was replaced a few hours later, and all I can do now – as then – is echo what so many other surgical replacement patients have said: Why did I wait so long?

For me, I waited so long because the notion of needing a hip replacement never even crossed my mind. I thought that was for old people, or people who'd been in accidents or had a fall. I was a runner (well, at least until my hip started hurting). Even after I stopped running, I continued to walk five miles a day. I wasn't old enough, or injured enough, to need a new joint.

Until I was.

I'm not where I want to be, health- or mobility-wise, a year later. I still have trouble putting shoes and socks on. I still walk up and down stairs one at a time, like a toddler. And I weigh five pounds less this morning than I did one year ago, which is about 40 pounds too many.

But my hip doesn't hurt. I'm walking, slowly but pain-free, as many days as the weather allows.

I'm using real-life situations as excuses for not eating right, but also trying to be realistic about it. At age 65, it's not likely I'll suddenly be cured of emotional or stress-eating tendencies. But I could be making at least a few better choices.

This winter has been rainy so far, resulting in a muddy parking area near the creek where I love to walk. Yesterday as my husband and I set out for yet another boring walk on our road, I suggested we drive down to the creek and park in the mud anyway. The sun was out (for a little while, anyway), and the temperature was moderate. The idea of walking along the creek on the anniversary of my surgery was very appealing.















So we did. And it was a lovely walk.

And it was just what I needed. I'm filled with dread for the future. Mr. Trump will take the oath of office tomorrow at noon. Republicans control Congress and are determined to pull the social safety net out from under anyone who isn't a rich white man. (YES, I'M EXAGGERATING. But only slightly. I've seen NO evidence otherwise.)

People are going to be hurt during a Trump (or Pence – I fully expect Trump's impeachment or resignation prior to completion of his term) administration. I hope the pain isn't debilitating.

Just nagging enough to require a replacement.

Home +7

I was discharged from the hospital a week ago today, and I'm making really good progress. No major setbacks. I had a slight fever for a day, high enough to call the doctor, but it was during the snowstorm and no one ever called back about it.

Dr. Office Fail, if you ask me.

Temperature went back to normal within 24 hours.

I'm doing my prescribed exercises several times daily. Two of them are helping increase range of motion (and they're working), the others are muscle strengthening.

I've gone to town once since I've been home, to the hospital for a blood test. I was started on a blood thinner in the hospital, and you have to monitor that carefully. Walking down long hospital corridors with the walker was no problem for me, but the FitBit didn't know how to count it and only gave me 130 steps.

I follow up with the surgeon next Tuesday. I'll be very happy to move from walker to cane.

The pain I'm having is quite manageable on 2 or 3 pain pills per day. I'll be very glad to not need those any more, and I'm hoping to discontinue completely by this weekend.

Still craving milk chocolate candy. The kind that comes in little paper cups, in a box. Soft centers. No nuts. Such a strange and very specific thing to want. My husband bought me a candy bar,but it just wasn't the same.

I ate it, though. Heh.

Home + 2

Surgery was Monday the 18th, spent Tuesday learning to walk with a walker, and was released Wednesday. I actually went up and down a flight of stairs Wednesday, which was a lot easier than getting in and out of bed.

The trip home was gruesome. Our normal hour-long trip took nearly two because of snow squalls. Nothing like what is predicted for today, though, and I'm very grateful I don't have to go anywhere through up to two feet of snow.

I have to do five exercises as many times a I want,  i can walk as much as I want, and there are no dressing changes to worry about.

I was sent home with prescriptions for Percocet (for pain) and coumadin (to prevent blood clots). No prescription for physical therapy, but that may happen later.

My husband has been a good nurse, especially after our chat about pain meds. I was taking 2 every 4 hours as needed in the hospital. The home prescription is one every 4 to 6 hours. I really do need them and am not afraid to take them. He's trying to have me stretch out the doses. Sometimes that's okay, but sometimes it isn't. I mean, SOMETIMES IT ISN'T!

He took my temperature yesterday and we discovered I had a slight fever, high enough to call the doctor per the after-care instructions. The doctor never called back, and my temperature went down, so I can assume it's nothing to worry about.

That's all for now. My sleep schedule is all messed up. I'm just counting on return to normal sometime in the future, as so many have assured me it happened to them. I appreciate all your messages, calls, texts, cards, and prayers. Thank you.

24

So. Twenty-four hours from right about now (8:30-ish, Sunday, January 17, 2016), they'll be prepping me for surgery.

I wasn't going to write anything today, but I started it, and I guess it would be remiss not to continue the surgery saga.

I'm surprisingly calm. I have great confidence in my surgeon, in the hospital, and in my ability to understand and follow doctor's orders. Others I know who've had joint replacement surgery are doing fine today, and their experiences have been so valuable and helpful.

I'm fifth on the schedule, so I expect the actual procedure will happen somewhat later in the morning. I have no idea when I'll be able to update the blog again … but I expect only a day or so.

Have a good Sunday. And a good Monday. I'll be back in business in a couple of days.

i'mnotoldi'mnotoldi'mnotold

Considering that I'll be 65 next spring, perhaps I am old. But I don't feel old, I don't think old, I don't look old, and I don't act old. So I'm not old, amirite? (See, I even know how to use young-folk slang appropriately!)

Maybe I do look old – grey hair is creeping into my temples and I sport crow's feet wrinkles laugh lines on my face – but I swear I don't feel or think or act old.

I keep up with current music (thanks, Pandora!), although I didn't watch the VMAs. But I don't watch videos much, anyway. That's not an age indictment. That's a preference. I keep an open mind, try to catch myself when I'm judgmental, stay teachable. I think those are all qualities of a younger mind and personality.

By now you've both noticed I haven't mentioned that pesky right hip that's been bothering me.

I might, actually, be old after all.

I watched as the radiology report came up on the monitor in my doctor's office.

Diagnosis: Marked osteoarthritis.

Dr. C turned from the screen and, without even looking at the images, said, "You need a total hip replacement."

Huh.

Imagine that.

When you look at the X-ray, you can't tell where the ball of the hip ends and the socket begins. They appear to be fused together. [They aren't; that's just how it looks.] And I know they're not fused because I can hear them grinding on each other when I move.

Grinding. That's a word Dr. C used a lot yesterday.

"The reason your hip hurts so much in the evening is because you've been grinding the joint all day."

"Rowing, walking, biking … they all still will cause grinding of the ball and socket."

"You won't cause any more damage by waiting. The grinding action of continued activity will cause pain, but the damage is done."

Honestly? I thought I'd go in, he'd prescribe some physical therapy, maybe an injection, and I'd be on my merry way. Because only old people have hip replacements, AMIRITE?

[Injections provide only temporary relief, 10 to 12 days. And I know there are other conditions that require hip replacements in young people. In fact I know someone who had one when he was in his 30s.]

Bone on bone doesn't heal itself with physical therapy. Treatment: Total hip replacement. I hope to wait until next spring to have it done. Because next spring I'll be 65. Medicare, baby! I'll be old!