Sept. 25: What news, Horatio?
I went to see my surgeon for the six-week check-up five days ago. It was a damn good thing that I had some idea in advance of what he would say.
My X-rays looked great. The bone and the prosthesis seem to be bonding well. My surgeon asked how I felt and I responded positively. He smiled, looked skyward and said, "Thank you, G-d." Then he merrily slapped me with another six weeks non-weight bearing. Any slight chance of a problem is too big a chance for him to take. Obviously, his god-complex was severely shaken by what happened to me. Now, he really seems to be looking to a higher power. It's just a shame that that higher power had to choose me to teach HIM a lesson.
When I went to the secretary to book my appointment, she could only offer me a 5-week or a 7-week appointment. Needless to say, I chose five weeks. By the time I get to test out my new hip, I will have spent three months without putting any weight on that leg. A frustrating wait (weight?).
Sept. 14: Dealing With Anger and Helplessness
I'm still processing what might be. I'm sure others would say to me that it's not worth worrying over something that may or may not come to pass. Sorry, that's just not my style. I need to process the ramifications of not starting to walk before Oct. 20. If I start before that, so much the better, but I need to think it through now.
Actually, although I have already come up with a few practical coping strategies, my first order of business is dealing with anger and helplessness.
ANGER: Before the problem with my hip replacement was identified, I was consumed with anger at my surgeon. I had gone in for surgery to correct a problem and come out with a much more severe disability. I felt pure, unadulterated, raw hatred towards my surgeon. I felt that in large part it was his arrogance that was to blame for what happened to me. As soon as the surgeon acknowledged the problem and apologized for causing it, both he and I changed our tunes. He showed great professional concern for my situation and impressed upon me that he was fully committed to correcting the problem. I, in turn, felt much more positive towards him and relatively confident that he would keep his promise. As soon as the second surgery was over, however, he reverted to type. He flew in and out of the room, taking just enough time to admire his handiwork and admonish me to not break any of the post-op rules. When I raised the issue of excruciating pain in my knee several times, he became downright surly. His last words to me on day 6 or 7 post-op were, "I don't know what [the knee pain] it is. It'll go away." With that, he left the room. I have not seen him since. My next appointment with him is in 8 days.
HELPLESSNESS: In response to my faxed question concerning weight bearing after six weeks, the news is that "probably" I will have to wait another four weeks. Concretely and medically speaking, I am at the mercy of the surgeon. His decision is what counts and I certainly cannot decide alone to go against it. He may very well be correct in his assessment, but in comparison to almost every other surgeon I have heard of, he seems to be vastly more conservative. In a perfect world, I would ask another surgeon to review my file and give his/her opinion. In this imperfect world, that option is a serious non-starter.
So I am faced with how to overcome the feelings of anger and helplessness and learn to live with, rather than against, my non-weight bearing status. I think that I need to get out of the house--to sing for the High Holidays and eventually to go out and work a few days over the next month. Money is not an overriding issue, mental health is. I have to establish whether sitting or hopping (as opposed to lying down) for a full business day is a viable option. I have just left a voice-mail message for my physiotherapist asking her to call ASAP. Voice-mail is the black hole of our society. We'll see if she calls back.
That's it for now.
Sept. 13: Four more weeks?
While supporters of George Bush, Jr. are busy chanting "four more years!", I am on the point of wailing "four more weeks?".
I got a call from my surgeon's secretary today, in response to last week's fax asking whether the bone grafts would add further time to my non-weight bearing period. The jury is apparently still out, but odds are on another four weeks tacked onto the first six (as of today, I am at five weeks). I suppose I shouldn't jump to conclusions, but knowing how conservative my surgeon is, the chances of my walking before the end of October at the earliest are faint to imperceptible.
I am angry for two reasons: If I have to be treated with such caution, why wasn't I treated that way the first time around? Maybe this fiasco could have been avoided. And secondly, NO ONE told me about this extended period of hopping. Such important information should have been imparted to me before the surgery. Now I'm starting to wonder how long he'll keep me on precautions, such as not breaking the 90 degree rule: six months, forever? "Sorry, we didn't think it made a difference to mention that."
When I went for my first out-patient pool therapy today, I was given four (count 'em four) exercises, which I did in about five minutes. Then I asked about walking, assuming that the physio would say yes since I had been allowed to walk in the pool TWO weeks earlier while I was still a patient at that hospital. Wrong. The sheet says totally non-weight bearing, so even at almost zero weight in the pool, I can't do anything. We may very well scrap the pool therapy since it's next to useless.
I'm almost no pain, I've got energy to burn, I'm following all the rules and all I can say is fuck this. I'm starting to feel iffy again about ever seeing the back of my crutches or canes.
I admit that four more years of Dubya is much worse than five more weeks of non-weight bearing but it sure doesn't feel that way to me right now.
Sept. 9 Not a happy camper
When I left the hospital after my revision, I was given a date for my 6 week appointment (Sept. 22). In my fairly euphoric state (feeling relatively little pain, very energetic), I assumed that, just like the last time, I would be non-weight bearing for the initial six weeks and then would be allowed to slowly learn to walk again (crutches, canes, cane, nothing---almost impossible to imagine).
Over the past few days, I have come across hippy posts and sites on the Internet where people (both real and of the medical variety) refer to a three-month non-weight bearing period for those who have received bone grafts.
Today I started out-patient physiotherapy at the convalescent hospital where I had been a patient after both operations. Going back there in of itself was probably more traumatic than I had expected. I could feel a cloud of bitterness descend on me and become heavier and heavier as my appointment went on.
I discussed the non-weight bearing issue with my new physiotherapist. She said that three months seems to ring a bell. I didn't feel great. But the cherry on the sundae was at the end of the session when the physiotherapist said, "Oh, I forgot to ask you. What is your goal in coming to physiotherapy?" I didn't lose it but I said I would like to walk again, at least as well as I did before any of the hip surgery took place. I said that so bitterly that she asked me if I wanted to see the hospital social worker and discuss my feelings with her. I replied that I already have a therapist, thank you.
Now that I'm home and had my little cry, talked to Carol (who has her own concerns so we're prop each other up) and scared the pants off Squidgy with whom I was supposed to have a coffee (can't talk now--gotta cry), I have come to the conclusion that I need to get in touch with my surgeon now. If I am automatically non-weight bearing until November, I need to prepare myself psychologically and figure out how I'm going to function and be part of the family without being able to do anything but hop around on crutches. My house is so small that a walker is impossible to use, especially in the kitchen--the room where I need it most. I'm going to have to jury-rig some kind of contraption to carry things around but glasses of water, food on a plate, etc. will be impossible to deal with. I'm also afraid that one of my crutches will fall and then I'll be unable to move at all until someone comes home. My mother-in-law will be leaving around Oct. 10 and neither she nor I want her to stay longer (things are going quite well, but there's a limit to how long one wants to be away from home or have "visitors" in one's home).
If I have to be non-weight bearing, I will survive. I've just got to process what it means to me on all levels.
I will send my surgeon a fax today, asking him whether the jury's still out or whether he'll automatically extend the NWB period.
One more thing:
When my new physio asked me who my surgeon was and I told her, she said that he's the one who does all the tough cases no one else is willing to take.
Bow down and worship...
Sept. 1
The days go by fairly fast but I'm still counting down desperately until Sept. 22 when I see my surgeon again. I really hate not being allowed to put any weight on my operated leg and seriously wonder whether my surgeon is the last one on the planet to impose this type of restriction. That being said, as John so wisely pointed out, if I go against his instructions and something bad happens, the warranty will be nul and void! So in lieu of walking using both feet, I hop a lot on crutches and complain vociferously and frequently. Only three weeks left!
There's still a lot of muscle flexibility left to be gained and my knee has a way of reminding me that recovery can be a long and winding road. However, although I have also complained that the physiotherapy exercises that have been prescribed for me are "Mickey Mouse", I do them faithfully and enjoy the fact that I am pushing my body to wake up and get going.
Since this is the day to talk about frustration, I have two more to present. But first, a bit of background for my non-hippy friends: I have been on the Internet, reading and posting on three different sites created for hippies and their friends and families. Through these sites I have made a number of wonderful, supportive friends (you know who you are!), learnt a lot and found comfort and caring when I was at my lowest before this second surgery.
So, what are my beefs, you might ask. They concern both recovery and the care and feeding of the artificial hip:
If I had found these sites before my first surgery, I would have gone in expecting to practically spring off the operating table and begin figure skating within a week of surgery. The sites abound with glowing reports of easy, pain-free, quick recoveries. As you all know, my first experience last November was the absolute opposite. I like to joke that I had a DAP (disability augmentation procedure) rather than a THR (total hip replacement) the first time. I feel that people on the verge of surgery should not have the fear of God put in them by reading about disasters such as my own. But they should also understand that everyone's recovery differs and measuring oneself against someone else can be counter-productive. We must listen to and accept the messages from our own body, not someone else's.
There is also the issue of exercise and what one can/should/shouldn't do with an artificial hip--because let's face the facts, it's not a natural hip, it IS artificial. As artificial hip recipients get younger and younger, the boundaries are pushed further and further out. The mobility needs and desires of an eighty year old are completely different from those of a forty, much less a twenty year old. Prostheses and surgical techniques are changing to keep up with the new landscape, but I fear that many hippies refuse to face the fact that they are now equipped with new parts that have NOT been manufactured by the best company in the world, Mother Nature. Proper exercise is absolutely necessary to keep the hip going but high-impact activities like running are anathema to the artificial hip. Insisting on continuing to do such exercise after a THR is, in my opinion, the height of macho recklessness. OK, I'm an old fart, but I've suffered too many surgical disasters to want to wear out my hip prematurely.
I have expressed these two often highly impopular opinions on the various hippy sites, but I also wanted to share them here. Thank you for listening!
