PT Begins

I had been told that if you don't hate your physical therapist, they are not doing their job. But I did not find that to be true at all. I will admit that he had me doing things I didn't think were possible just yet, like lying on the floor (how on earth do you get up and down?!) I had to do leg lifts (legs slightly bent with pillow between them to keep the hip precautions) while lying on my side - very little range of motion. Maybe just a 1/2 inch was all I could do. With a straight leg, I had a bit more range. He also had me stand on Dyna Discs in a corner to practice balance which was very scary to me. I even had to close my eyes which on the discs! I am terrified of falling - that seems like about the worst thing that could happen now.

After that, I went to the mall to walk since it is still snowy and icy outside. And I'm really getting bored doing laps around the house. Walked two big laps with one crutch, it felt great. But came home and slept for an hour.

Another milestone, the last Lovenox injection! That was one of the worst things about the whole deal. I look like a junkie with all these little green bruises on my belly.

Hitting the Wall

Once again, after feeling so great, I had my hit the wall day that they'd warned me about. Joanna said that most people report experiencing it at day 9 (which was my travel day so thankfully it didn't happen then). But I guess I was too buzzed on adrenaline to have it then.

I got up for awhile and then it hit me hard and I just had to go back to bed, which is just not like me. But I've learned to listen to my body and do what it needs. Glad I have that luxury right now with mom and dad still here. I just felt exhausted and not strong at all. But by the afternoon, I was feeling much better.

Sadly, I made the mistake of stepping on the scale in the afternoon. Bad idea. I kind of figured that since I've not been eating or had much of an appetite, I'd have lost weight. However, I was oh so wrong. I actually weighed 10 pounds more than when I left which was majorly depressing. I'll just tell myself that the BHR implant weighed 11 pounds, so I'm really down one.

That also reminds me, I've had to instruct the kids not to tell people that I got an implant and went to rehab!

The Plane Truth

After a great visit, it's finally time to go home. While it feels like we've been gone forever, I am thrilled that I made the choice to travel here. The midwest kindness and friendliness has been more than I could have hoped for.

Of course, our trip through the airport was completely eventful. It was the stuff my columns are made of, does the universe just know that I need material and freely send it my way? People ask me where I get the stuff for my columns and it's quite simple: I wake up every day.

When we got to the airport, Gus got me inside and in a seat, wheeled the luggage in and returned the car. I told him that I was pretty hungry and kind of dizzy. So we decided to go through security first. Since this was my first post surgical trip through the metal detectors, which I knew I would set off, beyond that, I really wasn't sure what to expect. We went to the handicapped line which was fine by me because my head was really spinning by then. Poor Gus was trying to deal with the luggage, the laptop and getting shoes off both of us. I'm sure we looked like a three ring circus. I told the woman that I was going to set it off since I'd just had hip surgery and that I was really dizzy and needed to sit down. By that time, Gus, whose driver's license had expired had been whisked off for additional searching and I was left in a chair, feeling like I was on a listing boat. The women were quite nice and got me a wheelchair, let me eat something and offered to call for medical assistance, which would have been the ultimate in embarrassment. They did the official pat down as I stood with my crutches, sent my crutches through the x-ray and sent me on my way - probably much to their relief.

Gus got me to my plane waiting area in my wheelchair then went to catch his plane. (Strange, perhaps, but we've always flown separately since we had kids) When it was time to board, they let me, along with another wheelchair user, hobble on first. We were on time and ready to go, which I found particularly important since I had a 55 minute connection in Minneapolis. We sit and sit and sit some more before the captain comes on to announce that we need to refuel. Shouldn't that have been on the checklist before we all boarded the plane???? So we wait and wait, my connection time diminishing with every tick of the clock. Finally the fuel truck arrives ane gasses up the plane. We depart Madison a full 55 minutes late. The captain says we should be able to make up some of the time, but I'm not sure it will be enough to get me to my next gate.

We landed at precisely 4:48 at gate C28 and I was due to depart at 5:06 no doubt from another concourse entirely. I'd requested a wheelchair and it was supposed to be waiting, which of course, it wasn't. The woman at the desk said to catch the electric cart, which I saw was plugged in recharging. Meanwhile, they are paging me to board my flight which I now find is at gate F3. About that time, another woman from my flight walks up waiting for a cart to the F3 gate. She is grandmotherly age with a gruff German accent. I later find out she is an anthesiologist and has known my doctor since he was a resident in 1971. About that time both a cart and my wheelchair arrive. Hoping that they are holding the plane, I strap myself into the the only seat my leg will allow me to, the back right facing backwards. The German woman sits next to me, puts her arm around me and holds my bag. The driver, not quite comprehending that we have about 2 minutes now to traverse the entire Minneapolis airport, is dilly dallying around. We are shouting that our flight is at 5:06 and apparently he thinks we are advising him that it is flight number 506. When he finally realizes the miscommunication, I swear he peeled off his airport driver vest, put on a NASCAR Winston jacket and goggles and took off across the airport in a high speed, Keanu Reeves "Speed" driving display. People were jumping out of the way as he laid on the horn like a New York Cabbie. The German woman held onto me, probably fearing I'd go flying off the back and she'd miss her flight. Somehow, the driver got us to the plane seconds before the were going to close the door. As I hobbled onto the plane, 85 people glared at me for being late despite my pitiful crutches. Thankfully, the flight home was uneventful except for no luggage.

It's good to be home! The boys met me at the airport with roses and hugs. The hugs were what I needed most.

Heading North

After Joanna removed my staples this morning, I was free to go. I didn't have a great view of the incision but what I could see looked like an earthworm with all of the staples. I'd read/heard that the staples removal was painful/uncomfortable but once again, it turned out to be anticlimactic. In fact, I didn't even realize she'd finished. She said the incision looked great and that I could take a shower in two days.

So far the worst thing about this whole deal (the thing that has caused the most discomfort and I've dreaded the most) has been the Lovenox injections each night. Gus gives them to me (glad he has plenty of professional experience in the injection department). They are placed in the abdomen, in the fat two inches from your belly button. Sadly, there is plenty to work with in that area.

Now that we're sprung, we are headed north to see John, Carla and Elizabeth who moved away last summer. It will be the first time we've seen them since the move (was this truly why I chose to have surgery in Wisconsin?) You know you have a true friend when she will buy you a booster seat for the potty (a booster pooper if you will) so you can stay at her house! Only a real friend would do that for you.

It is the first time I've been outside since coming home from the hospital and it is wonderful! The weather is cooperating, no snow in the forecast!

Step and Fetch

This is a much deserved post to praise my husband, Step and Fetch. He has been absolutely incredible in catering to my every whim and meeting my every need. I can't say I could have done as well. He hasn't rolled his eyes, not even once. Every woman should be this lucky.

Every Step I Take

Last day at HipHab. Hard to believe it has gone so quickly.

Didn't feel so great this morning, they warned us there would be roller coaster days and that it is perfectly normal. Not sure why I felt crummy but it was kind of disappointing since I'd felt so terrific the day before. After morning PT, I felt a lot better, guess you have to keep moving.

Desi had me walking on one crutch today which surprised me. She also showed me how to flip the crutch around to use as a cane.

I am fully bearing weight on the surgical leg and there is simply no pain. I wonder if your brain gets hardwired for it because it's almost like my body is expecting it but it's just not there. But the pain had been there for so long, with every single step I took, that I can't quite process the fact that it is gone. I will never take walking for granted again!

I still have a bit of swelling, but practically no bruising at all. The ice packs definitely help keep the swelling down.

I finally got to see the incision after the swimming session - all the staples make it pretty funky looking.

Still don't have much of an appetite but trying to eat whatever sounds good. I'm not sure if it is the meds or what but by the evening, a few bites are all I can manage.

Baby Steps

Every little thing is such a production. From standing up to going to the bathroom, it seems to take forever and I am not one to take my time doing anything. So this is forcing me to slow down which I guess can be a good thing. Maybe it's a lesson I can carry forward with me, but I can be a pretty slow learner when it comes to that which is good for me.

Yesterday was the first PT out of the hospital and we walked the halls, did the small exercises from our book and learned to do the steps. The steps were unnerving to say the least, I just didn't think I could do it. But following the "up with the good, down with the bad mantra" I was able to navigate up and down. I was pretty worn out after that session and slept awhile. Naps are my new best friend.

Today, we had our first pool therapy which was beyond incredible. The range of motion you have in the water is so much greater than anything you can on land. The water is warm and comfortable, which is very soothing. A clear, waterproof dressing is applied prior to entering the pool. This also gives the added bonus of being able to shower when you get back to the room. After a few days of navy baths, the shower was absolutely glorious. Clean hair is a wonderful thing!

Of course, it is snowing outside. But it's Wisconsin so what can you expect. It was a winter storm warning yesterday but when you don't have to be anywhere, the snow is just fine.

The kids and my folks are doing great and surviving. Thank goodness they all have a sense of humor.

Moving On

After the hospital PT session, I was sprung! It will be nice to get back to the apartment at the rehab center where I can have a little space and privacy (and be out of a stupid hospital bed!). I guess they deem the car transfer and getting to your room enough of a workout for the day because PT starts tomorrow.

Bionic Woman Walking

They really don't mess around after surgery. The first PT session was held in the bed, apparently after my stellar performance with the pass-out/vomit combo. They had me sit for quite awhile on the edge of the bed and finally did get me up on the crutches to walk out into the hall and back. One small step for a bionic woman! The PT, Desiree, had told us that we'd be amazed at the difference between our am/pm PT sessions in the hospital and she was right on the money. That afternoon, the day after surgery, I walked from the PT room back to my room on crutches. Granted it was very slow and she had me on the PT leash, it was nothing short of amazing. I was also shocked that I could (and apparently should) bear weight on the surgical leg.

I'm also shocked that I am not in pain. I somehow expected the surgical site to be painful but there is just nothing. The only thing I'm experiencing, and it in no way rises to a level of pain, is what I'd call muscle discomfort in the surgical leg. When Renee came to check on me, she asked about my pain. I told her there really was no pain, but it felt like I had done a really intense leg/quad workout. She laughed and said, "You did have an intense quad workout, but we did it for you." But it could not be classified as pain at all.

The PCA was discontinued and I went to the oral meds, which I can't say I need all that much. One more night in the hospital and I'm moving on the HipHab!

Bionic Woman

After all the hoopla, travel and what seemed like waiting longer than a full-term pregnancy, surgery is over. I am officially a Bionic Woman. I was scheduled first up at 7:30 on Valentine's Day, what a way to get that little sparkly something. We'd scheduled a cab for 5:20, since the forecast was for snow (again) and apparently cab drivers in Wisconsin still find it to be a surprise in winter. Of course, they were not on time which raised the anxiety level tremendously. After several phone calls and increasing blood pressure, the cab finally arrived at 5:45. Luckily it was a fairly short trip so we made it on time at 6:00 as scheduled.

There was no waiting around as I'd experienced with my dad's prior surgeries. Went through the check in process and they sent me up to the surgical floor where there wasn't even the chance to sit down. They whisked me back to a private room where I answered more health questions, marked the surgical site with the doctors initials and gave a little blood just for good measure. At 7:20 they were wheeling me out of the room to the pre-surgery area. We dropped Gus off at the surgical waiting room and it just broke my heart because he looked so lost. But he was trying to stay calm on my behalf, which of course was greatly appreciated. But after 20 years together, I know that look of nervousness.

In pre-op, the anesthesiologist hooked me up to the IV, they asked my name and birthdate about 50 times. At 7:30, they were wheeling me into the OR, which didn't look like the OR that I remembered from past surgical experiences. The room was a bustle of activity, Dr. Rogerson said hello and I tried to make a joke about the beach scene picture on the wall considering the snow outside was measured in feet. Renee, the PA, helped me scoot over onto the OR table from the gurney and that is absolutely the last thing I remember. No mask, no count backwards from ten - I was out.

When I woke up in post-op, strangely enough it was like waking up from a refreshing nap. Now when I had my emergency c-section 12 years ago, I remember being groggy for days. But not this time. In fact, I asked the nurse if they'd cancelled my surgery for some reason - had something gone wrong- because I was fairly certain I'd only been in there a few minutes. She just laughed and said surgery went great and it took 2 1/2 hours. But I just couldn't figure out why I felt no pain.

When they took me up to the room, Gus was shocked at how alert and awake I was considering my post c-section out-of-it experience. They hooked me up to a PCA for pain management. I did use it, only because I was scared of pain (and after my 2nd c-section experience where the post-epidural line kinked and I had no pain relief whatsoever for several hours) I didn't want to go there. But I if I had to do it again, I would definitely skip the morphine and ask for oral pain meds instead. While the morphine doesn't have awful side effects for me (all it does it make me sleepy), I think I would have felt much more alert and been fine without it.

Since it was not a private room (with one shared TV in the middle no less), I was glad we brought a poratable DVD player. My roommate had knee surgery and felt compelled to share the details, and her displeasure with the whole experience, with anyone who would listen or had the misfortune of being within earshot. She exuded negativity that was not exactly conducive to recovery. So I was glad I had earphones, movies and my MP3 player.

They had told me that PT would start the day after surgery but that they might get me up to use the bathroom. So that evening, two assistants sat me on the edge of the bed and got ready to spin me over to the bedside potty. I was feeling fairly dizzy but they said that was normal and to just dangle my legs for a bit. When they got me up and over, I was holding onto one woman's arm telling her not to leave me, that I was really dizzy now (the kind where things are fading to black and you are pretty sure passing out is in your near future). I don't remember it, but my husband told me that I threw up and promptly passed out. He said they called for help and about 8 people were in there in pretty short order. All I remember is being back in the bed.

I'm so relieved this is over!

T-minus one day and counting

Finally arrived in Wisconsin, now 12 hours till surgery. I am VERY ready. I think Gus is more nervous that I am although he wouldn't admit it. But I know him too well.

The HipHab facility is incredible! The room is so pleasant and has everything we need. They appear to have thought of everything.

Today was full of doctor appointments and physical therapy meetings. As the doctor looked at the x-ray he winced. "You've been in pretty bad pain for awhile now, huh?" he said. "You're going to feel so much better after this." Thank God. Everyone was very reassuring and honest, the next two to three days (and possibly weeks) are going to be challenging. It was a bit of information overload, thankfully, they'd sent a binder with printed material so you could read it all beforehand. I'm not sure how much I actually retained from today's whirlwind.

Walking has been even more of a challenge for the past two weeks since I've had only Tylenol for pain. They may as well throw you a box of Tic-Tacs, they'd be about as helpful for pain control. I never realized how well Motrin worked for me. Considering how much I was taking everyday, I probably should be on the list for a new stomach and liver too.

I'm trying to memorize how this pain feels, especially since it is more intense than ever. It has been with me for so long - I do remember starting to limp a couple years ago, but I have just been in denial. I felt pain walking and running - a grinding, stabbing pain. It started in the groin, which made me think it was related to running - a pull or something. What I still cannot figure out is that I never had any pain when I ran, the only time I started to hurt is when I quit running altogether (in an effort to preserve my joints!) It has gotten so progressively bad that all I want to do is sit which is a far cry from running a marathon. Up steps - ouch! I avoid walking at all now, and the pain is just so inconsistent. Sometimes I almost feel like I lose my balance, like my leg just gives out and the pain takes my breath away. Other times it is a deep, dull pain that is ragged and it hurts down my leg. I can describe it like a piece of red hot rebar jammed deep into my glute that grinds bone-on-bone with every step I take. I want to remember, even memorize this pain, so when PT is difficult or I have post-surgery pain, I know it is only temporary. I keep chanting to myself that after tomorrow, I NEVER HAVE TO FEEL THAT PAIN AGAIN.

Now it's all over but the shouting but I don't care. I'm going to bed and hope that I get a good night's sleep. Let's rock.

Departure Day!

The parental unit arrived late Sunday night to take care of and shuttle the kids while we are gone. I have to just let go (i.e. not worry that it will snow and they won't be able to get around, or that it is too overwhelming for everyone). For a control freak like me, it is next to impossible not trying to micromanage my world (and everyone in it). But for now, my only job is to get on that plane, get to Wisconsin and get this thing fixed.

I have to admit, I am a basket case as I wait for the plane. It's just been so long to spend thinking about it that it's made me more than a little crazy. I know I'm anxious, about having surgery, to get it over with and above all, to feel better. I have mentally worn myself out on this little endeavor and no wonder I am exhausted before I even get out of town.

It's hard to let go and just take care of myself right now but I'm going to try. Why do moms/women have such a difficult time doing this? It's as if we embrace our inner two year old who manically screams "Do it myself!!" Why are we so incapable of letting someone else drive the bus for a change?

Glitch

Well, here's a dandy little glitch in the works. Hubby (who is leaving with me to be my caregiver) skiied with the kids yesterday and woke up in the middle of the with a knee this size of a cantaloupe and screaming pain! Can you say nervous breakdown for me? I was in tears in the middle on the night (he didn't know it) as he sucked down Motrin and iced his knee. My brain launched into all kinds of alternate plans, who can take care of me in Wisconsin??? This cannot be happening!

The countdown continues

I am so busy running around trying to get everything finished before I leave - I didn't realize I did so much each day. Just typing up the list of the daily stuff for the kids was exhausting but was a hearty rationalization and answer to that age old questions "what do you do all day?" in terms of stay-at-home-momhood.

I can't wait to just get on the plane and get this going, it seems like it's been going on forever. I guess in a way it has been, since the fall of 2004. How's that for hard-headed and being in total denial? But the surgery has been planned since the Tuesday before Thanksgiving so that is a long time to think (obsess) about it.

8 days and counting

Surprisingly, I'm more than a little embarrassed to start a blog. It's particularly surprising since I write a monthly column where I recount in detail the goofy things that seem to happen to me and my family.

But with hip resurfacing surgery coming up in one short week, I thought it might be helpful to share my experience leading up to surgery with anyone who might be contemplating the procedure. It seems like a long time getting to this point. I have to face the fact - I'm going to be a hippy.

My most recent column gives the details of finally coming to the conclusion that surgery was a necessary evil:

A Very Hip Valentine’s Day

It’s almost that time of year again - Valentine’s Day - the day set aside for remembering that special someone with a romantic dinners and a $75 bouquet of roses. On this extraordinary day of love, we can momentarily forget the fact that our adorable man who now belches the alphabet with the gusto of a third grader and remember why we fell in love with him in the first place. For those fellas who spend most of their time in the doghouse, Valentine’s Day presents the perfect opportunity to suck up for ignoring your sweetie the other 364 days of the year. Most women I know would always welcome sparkly adornments like diamond studs, gold bracelets or a silver BMW convertible on Valentine’s Day. Although lacking the glitz of such accoutrements, most men have the good common sense to show up bearing a love offering of flowers or chocolates for their beloved.

This year, my husband and I will celebrate our twentieth Valentine’s Day together and he knows exactly what I want. It’s sparkly to be sure but it’s far from the ordinary, which is exactly what I would expect to celebrate the longevity of our love. And I have to admit, I’m feeling pretty special because I don’t know a single soul who will be celebrating the same way I’ll be. No, it’s not a dazzling Forever Ring that he plans to give to me on the steps of some photogenic European plaza with family and 37 of my closest friends present to share in my joy. It won’t involve a delightful night out with a bottle of wine, flowers and a tear inducing Hallmark moment. And sadly, I won’t even be able to show it off. But this Valentine’s Day he’s giving me some hip bling - literally. A high carbide cobalt chrome resurfaced hip. He’s such a sentimental fool.

This year, I will celebrate the day of love in the most non-traditional way I can possibly imagine: surgery. But after three years of limping around in complete denial while eating ibuprofen by the handful like they were Junior Mints, I acknowledged that it was indeed time to seek medical intervention. It came on slowly, limping a bit after my daily run or a little morning stiffness. I chalked it up to middle-age and years of having the misguided view that stretching was for sissies. But the post-run limp morphed into one that was all the time. Friends would inquire about my distinctive Quasimodo Shuffle. “I’m fine,” I’d reply emphatically as I dragged my right leg along behind me. I somehow assumed my state of denial would result in a miraculous, spontaneous cure. When my kids starting calling me Hitch and my right shoe began to wear out first, I started to think that perhaps they were right.

This summer, however, was the tipping point in facing the fact that my limp had evolved into a public freak show on par with the bearded lady of carnival sideshow fame. While attempting to take a walk, I heard a vehicle slow as it drove up behind me. A young man pulled up beside me and stuck his head out the window. I assumed incorrectly that he was going to ask for directions. Instead, he inquired helpfully, “Ma’am, are you hurt?” “No, just my pride,” I mumbled under my breath as I hobbled away from his car. I shuffled back home and promptly scheduled a doctor’s appointment. During my visit, it didn’t require a radiologist to see that my right hip was bone-on-bone and far beyond WD40 and duct tape. My doctor announced the sad news: my right hip had reached its expiration date.

Now I have to admit, in the 1970s, I imagined how cool it would be to have the superpowers of the Bionic Woman, Jaime Sommers, but I never imagined that I’d have my chance. Thanks to surgical intervention, the Bionic Woman was able to leap to the top of a 12 story building, run 60 mph and bend steel with her bare hands. While I can’t fathom that leaping tall buildings or running will be in my post-surgery future, I’m looking forward to the day that I can take a pain-free walk with my husband, my kids and my dog. And that will be a gift that’s more extraordinary than superpowers, diamonds or gold.