My hip has been great for the last month. I was able to visit Washington, DC, and walk all over Georgetown without any limp whatsoever. That was fantastic.
Last week, though, I fell down in the hallway of Thing One's preschool. I don't know how it happened, although the fact that I was wearing flip flops (I know, I know) probably had something to do with it. It was the kind of fall you might have once in a lifetime, so I don't know why it had to happen to me on the three-month anniversary of my THR. My feet flew out from under me really fast--it was like an ice skating fall--and I'm not really sure how I landed. I just know I fell hard. I screamed when I hit the floor and really panicked about the whole thing. After all, I spend every day making extra-double-sure I don't cross my legs or do anything else that could adversely affect my hip, but then here I was flying through the air and hitting a rock-hard floor with my hip. It reminds me of a joke from Mad Magazine that has stayed with me since childhood: the cartoon showed a guy with sparkling teeth shaking hands with his proud dentist, and in the next panel the guy has all his teeth knocked out in a bar fight. That's how I felt last Thursday. But I called my doctor and he said, "If you're walking, you're OK." He said as long as the hip wasn't dislocated (I'd be tipped off to that by excruciating pain), I'd be fine. I've been very sore ever since the fall, but getting a little bit better every day. The worst thing about the incident was definitely the humiliation.
Everything else has been very hectic, especially with school starting. None of us has really recovered from the summer yet. It was stressful and painful (in more ways than one) that it's going to take a while for life to seem truly normal again. Nevertheless, the hip is doing great. I'm trying not to take it all for granted. I have to remember how much pain I was in just four months ago. No way I could have walked all around Washington.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Day 60: Horses and worms
I had my two-month checkup yesterday and everything went well. I walk without a limp now, and even my back has been feeling pretty strong. I was told to continue using the raised toilet seat for another few months, and I still have to keep my right leg from flopping in past the center line of my body. There are a variety of changes you have to make in your life when this is a constant objective. For example, when I put socks on, I must keep both hands between my feet rather have a hand on either side of the leg (as any normal person would when trying to put on a sock). This is to help avoid dislocation. I can now stop taking the baby aspirin, and should continue to walk every day if possible. I finally asked if I would be able to ride horses again, and the doctor said yes. He suggested I avoid jumping or anything too crazy, but I'm cleared to ride. If I do fall off a horse, he said, I'm more likely to break an arm or an ankle, so he didn't see horseback riding as a particularly hip-risky activity. I was surprised, but happy. My next appointment will be in ten months, for the one-year anniversary.
Took Thing One to a bait shop today for bloodworms and nightcrawlers. Pet worms, believe it or not. We created a worm habitat--not as easy as you might think--in a plastic bin from Target, and will be monitoring it with great interest. We'll be feeding our worms coffee grounds and veggie-type table scraps, which they compost. Worms!
It's pretty amazing that it only took me two months to recover from total hip replacement. I have a few months to go before I'm 100%, but for now I can do almost everything I would normally do in a day. I'm still just two months out from THR, though, and still have some special needs. Each time I park in a handicap spot--I was given a temporary handicap parking tag to use until November--I wonder if people are judging me, thinking I'm abusing the privilege. I look pretty normal when I'm up and moving around, but I still struggle a bit getting in and out of the car, and I need a fair amount of room to pull it off. If the lot isn't crowded, I park in a regular spot.
I'm going to continue posting about my hip progress, but I'm thinking I'll just post on the first of every month until my one-year checkup. That's the plan. There's no telling what kinds of interesting developments are yet to come.
Took Thing One to a bait shop today for bloodworms and nightcrawlers. Pet worms, believe it or not. We created a worm habitat--not as easy as you might think--in a plastic bin from Target, and will be monitoring it with great interest. We'll be feeding our worms coffee grounds and veggie-type table scraps, which they compost. Worms!
It's pretty amazing that it only took me two months to recover from total hip replacement. I have a few months to go before I'm 100%, but for now I can do almost everything I would normally do in a day. I'm still just two months out from THR, though, and still have some special needs. Each time I park in a handicap spot--I was given a temporary handicap parking tag to use until November--I wonder if people are judging me, thinking I'm abusing the privilege. I look pretty normal when I'm up and moving around, but I still struggle a bit getting in and out of the car, and I need a fair amount of room to pull it off. If the lot isn't crowded, I park in a regular spot.
I'm going to continue posting about my hip progress, but I'm thinking I'll just post on the first of every month until my one-year checkup. That's the plan. There's no telling what kinds of interesting developments are yet to come.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Day 55: Thrilled
It's been ten days since my last post, and in that time things have gotten almost completely back to normal. I can do all kinds of amazing things now, like wear flip-flops and drive and sleep on my stomach. And as I walked around the supermarket the other day it occurred to me that I was not limping. That's huge. I don't need any of my special dressing tools anymore, like the reacher-pincher or the superlong shoe horn, but I am still taking a baby aspirin a day. Just for the record, St. Joseph's chewable baby aspirin is a million times tastier than the Bayer variety (thanks, Richard!).
I have my two month checkup this week, and that in itself is crazy. It's only been two months? I have zero pain in the hip now, and can even get out of my car a little easier since I leared to slide the seat all the way back before getting out. This makes it possible to kind of lean back and swing myself out of the car without being forced to flop the right leg under the steering wheel (thanks, dad!).
I still have a sore back every morning, but it gets better as the day goes on. My only guess is that I'm spending too much time sleeping on my left side, and this results in a strain to my left upper back? It's my best guess. You know when you see time lapse photography of people sleeping and it's nuts how much they move around? I'm not doing any of that moving around, and I think that's the problem. I still have to wake up and consciously move if I want to change positions at night, so I think my brain has decided to stay asleep and leave my body on its left side. I can lie on the operative side now, but it starts to feel sore after about fifteen minutes. I assume that's because the muscles there are still weak and healing.
I'm doing all the things I desperately wanted to be doing by now, like taking care of the kids by myself (including getting them in and out of car seats, which I thought would be especially tricky), driving, carrying laundry baskets up and down stairs, and hanging around outside 7-11 drinking a Slurpee with Thing One. All this is actually happening earlier than expected and I couldn't be more thrilled.
I have my two month checkup this week, and that in itself is crazy. It's only been two months? I have zero pain in the hip now, and can even get out of my car a little easier since I leared to slide the seat all the way back before getting out. This makes it possible to kind of lean back and swing myself out of the car without being forced to flop the right leg under the steering wheel (thanks, dad!).
I still have a sore back every morning, but it gets better as the day goes on. My only guess is that I'm spending too much time sleeping on my left side, and this results in a strain to my left upper back? It's my best guess. You know when you see time lapse photography of people sleeping and it's nuts how much they move around? I'm not doing any of that moving around, and I think that's the problem. I still have to wake up and consciously move if I want to change positions at night, so I think my brain has decided to stay asleep and leave my body on its left side. I can lie on the operative side now, but it starts to feel sore after about fifteen minutes. I assume that's because the muscles there are still weak and healing.
I'm doing all the things I desperately wanted to be doing by now, like taking care of the kids by myself (including getting them in and out of car seats, which I thought would be especially tricky), driving, carrying laundry baskets up and down stairs, and hanging around outside 7-11 drinking a Slurpee with Thing One. All this is actually happening earlier than expected and I couldn't be more thrilled.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Day 45: Driving!
I haven't posted for a while, mainly because Marie was here for a week to help out. She brought me a half dozen cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery, and those were a huge help right off the bat. I shared 1/2 of one cupcake with Thing One and ate all the rest myself. Next time I probably won't even give away the 1/2.
It was super hot every day, but we still managed to spend a lot of time outside. The kids had a blast playing in the backyard with all the presents Marie brought. The Bubble Typhoon (far superior to our original bubble machine, which broke after one day) and the Frozone Blaster were big hits, and Marie also managed to get both kids playing in the little plastic pool, an ominous backyard fixture Thing One had previously avoided completely. Marie has the magic. We all loved having her here and were sad to see her go.
On Marie's last day here I gave driving another shot, and this time I did fine. The toughest part is getting in and out of the small car, but I'm getting used to that. I'm now able to drive anywhere and everywhere, and it's an incredible feeling.
I've been slacking off on my daily walk. We've had triple-digit temperatures--or close to--for about a week, and I just can't handle the sweatiness of it all. Swimming is what I really want to do, but I still haven't been able to arrange pool access. I need to join a gym. The only pain I've been having is in my upper left back. I assume this is from muscle strain, maybe even from slouching over this keyboard. I need some kind of strength training.
I'm able to take care of the kids on my own now, although it's still a challenge. Because I'm still so weak, I start to get tired and sore, especially in my back, every day by about noon. But they say the total recovery time for THR is six months, and I'm only at the 45 day mark. I'm doing much better than I anticipated, and am perfectly willing to believe that by Christmas this surgery and recovery will seem like ancient history.
It was super hot every day, but we still managed to spend a lot of time outside. The kids had a blast playing in the backyard with all the presents Marie brought. The Bubble Typhoon (far superior to our original bubble machine, which broke after one day) and the Frozone Blaster were big hits, and Marie also managed to get both kids playing in the little plastic pool, an ominous backyard fixture Thing One had previously avoided completely. Marie has the magic. We all loved having her here and were sad to see her go.
On Marie's last day here I gave driving another shot, and this time I did fine. The toughest part is getting in and out of the small car, but I'm getting used to that. I'm now able to drive anywhere and everywhere, and it's an incredible feeling.
I've been slacking off on my daily walk. We've had triple-digit temperatures--or close to--for about a week, and I just can't handle the sweatiness of it all. Swimming is what I really want to do, but I still haven't been able to arrange pool access. I need to join a gym. The only pain I've been having is in my upper left back. I assume this is from muscle strain, maybe even from slouching over this keyboard. I need some kind of strength training.
I'm able to take care of the kids on my own now, although it's still a challenge. Because I'm still so weak, I start to get tired and sore, especially in my back, every day by about noon. But they say the total recovery time for THR is six months, and I'm only at the 45 day mark. I'm doing much better than I anticipated, and am perfectly willing to believe that by Christmas this surgery and recovery will seem like ancient history.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Day 33: Shaving, clipping, limping
I'm continuing to take a 30 minute walk every day, and the leg does seem to be getting stronger. Today it hurts to the touch on the outside part of the thigh, and it's not the deep muscle pain I would expect after all that walking, but a kind of surface pain, like a bruise. It's weird, but I'm pretending it's normal.
It's been exciting to be able to move in more regular ways now that some of my restrictions have been lifted. I don't have to keep that 90 degree angle at the hip anymore, so now I can shave my legs and almost even clip my own toenails. You take that kind of thing for granted in your normal life. I'd love to go for a pedicure, but I'm afraid to expose myself to the creeping crud so soon after the surgery. I actually asked the doctor about the pedicure thing, and he said it would be OK. I'm pretty sure, thought, that he doesn't understand that a pedicure involves a hastily "sanitized" community foot bath, hastily "sanitized" supersharp skin clipping implements, and a bottle of polish applied with a brush that has touched lord know how many other strange, gross toes. I considered bringing my own skin and nail clippers, and even my own polish, but there's no way to get around that foot bath. I don't want to risk infection--I have to be ultra-careful about that for the rest of my life, and get treated immediately for any infection I get (even like a sinus infection)--so I'm sadly passing on the pedicure for now.
Other than the fact that my toes are not polished, I feel almost back to my old self. I still walk with a limp, but that's getting a little better. It all depends on how weak I'm feeling, and how much I'm concentrating on my gait. The more I think about it, the worse I limp. I predict I will be walking limp-free and with a perfectly normal gait by Labor Day. How's that for completely uncharacteristic optimism?
It's been exciting to be able to move in more regular ways now that some of my restrictions have been lifted. I don't have to keep that 90 degree angle at the hip anymore, so now I can shave my legs and almost even clip my own toenails. You take that kind of thing for granted in your normal life. I'd love to go for a pedicure, but I'm afraid to expose myself to the creeping crud so soon after the surgery. I actually asked the doctor about the pedicure thing, and he said it would be OK. I'm pretty sure, thought, that he doesn't understand that a pedicure involves a hastily "sanitized" community foot bath, hastily "sanitized" supersharp skin clipping implements, and a bottle of polish applied with a brush that has touched lord know how many other strange, gross toes. I considered bringing my own skin and nail clippers, and even my own polish, but there's no way to get around that foot bath. I don't want to risk infection--I have to be ultra-careful about that for the rest of my life, and get treated immediately for any infection I get (even like a sinus infection)--so I'm sadly passing on the pedicure for now.
Other than the fact that my toes are not polished, I feel almost back to my old self. I still walk with a limp, but that's getting a little better. It all depends on how weak I'm feeling, and how much I'm concentrating on my gait. The more I think about it, the worse I limp. I predict I will be walking limp-free and with a perfectly normal gait by Labor Day. How's that for completely uncharacteristic optimism?
Friday, July 27, 2007
Day 31: Still a ways to go
I was excited about some of my restrictions being lifted, so I tried to make the most of it today. I got to sit outside in a regular old patio chair without first stacking it with pillows, and was able to do a few yard things, like fill the baby pool for the kids. I took a long walk around the neighborhood with Lee and the kids, and did this, per doctor's orders, with only one crutch. At lunchtime I convinced Lee to drive me to a salon to get my bangs trimmed. I was feeling pretty confident as the day wore on, and decided I would drive myself to the mall. But when I attempted to do that, I realized almost immediately that I wasn't ready. I had difficulty just getting into the driver's seat, because my car is very small and the seats are of the bucket variety. Once I finally did get into the car and started to drive, I could tell that I did not have the strength or flexibility to move my right foot from gas to brake. As I drove through the neighborhood, I had to coast through every stop sign because I couldn't apply enough pressure to the brake to completely stop the car. So I looped around and came back home. Once back in the driveway, I encountered the biggest problem of all--getting out of the car. Because the space between the seat and the steering wheel is so tight, I wasn't able to swing my bad right leg out of the car without flopping it in, and flopping the leg in is still a forbidden movement. I sat behind the wheel for a minute or two before I gathered the nerve to just do it. I got out OK, but it's not something I want to try again soon. Maybe I'll wait a week and give it another shot. A larger car with a tilting steering wheel would make the whole thing a lot more doable. If only I still had my 1968 Dart!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Day 30: Hip hooray
Lots of good news today at the one-month checkup. I can ride in a car now, and sit in any chair, even a short smushy one. I can practice driving if I feel up to it, although the doctor suggested I start out "in an empty church parking lot" for safety. I'm allowed to sleep on my back, my stomach, or my side. I'm still supposed to keep pillows between my knees if I sleep on the non-operative side, but otherwise I can just lie there like a normal person. I can bend now, even to touch my toes. I'm supposed to walk for at least 30 minutes a day, and I should be able to do that using only one crutch, in my left hand. The best and biggest news was that I'm cleared to take care of my own kids, as long as I'm very careful about Thing Two. The doctor was concerned that I could hurt myself or dislocate my hip trying to catch a squirming baby, so I'm going to continue to accept as much help with T2 as possible, at least for the time being.
I don't know if it's the exact brand, but this is the type of hip I have. Note all the "potential risks." I had an x-ray today and found out that my implant is screwed in, which surprised me. I'm not sure why that was done, or what the risks might be. The doctor only said it was to give me "a little extra bit of security."
We celebrated today by taking the kids out for ice cream. Thing One had a giant cone of cake batter-flavored ice cream with sprinkles and a pair of candy eyes. Thing Two had a teeny baby cone, also with sprinkles and eyes. Lee had one scoop of black raspberry in a dish, and I had a peanut butter/hot fudge sundae. An awesome day.
I don't know if it's the exact brand, but this is the type of hip I have. Note all the "potential risks." I had an x-ray today and found out that my implant is screwed in, which surprised me. I'm not sure why that was done, or what the risks might be. The doctor only said it was to give me "a little extra bit of security."
We celebrated today by taking the kids out for ice cream. Thing One had a giant cone of cake batter-flavored ice cream with sprinkles and a pair of candy eyes. Thing Two had a teeny baby cone, also with sprinkles and eyes. Lee had one scoop of black raspberry in a dish, and I had a peanut butter/hot fudge sundae. An awesome day.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Day 29: Big day tomorrow
Tomorrow is a big day because I get to actually ride in a car to go to my one-month hip checkup. You know your life is sad when something like that seems like Christmas. I really do think I'm starting to fall into a little depression. I've been stuck at home for a month, and I'm more annoyed, stressed, anxious, and grouchy than ever. I'm completely dependent on other people, and have no chance to be alone or just get away for a few minutes. It doesn't seem like it would be that bad, but it gets to you.
The hip, however, is doing great. I've been able to do all kinds of wonderful new things, like lunch-making and laundry. I even put Thing Two to bed tonight all by myself. I almost felt brave enough to sleep on my side today--the bad side.
I can't wait to see what the doctor has to say tomorrow.
The hip, however, is doing great. I've been able to do all kinds of wonderful new things, like lunch-making and laundry. I even put Thing Two to bed tonight all by myself. I almost felt brave enough to sleep on my side today--the bad side.
I can't wait to see what the doctor has to say tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Day 28: Odd new pain
Today was the first day I've had any actual pain in the hip. I woke up with soreness in the front of the hip--the groin area--and also on my butt, directly behind that groin area (if you shot an arrow through the painful part in the front of my hip, if would come out through the painful part of the back of my hip. Please don't do that, though). That's exactly where the implant is, and where the arthritis pain used to be. I expect to get better every day, and this felt like a setback. If I start having pain in the hip, I'm going to start worrying that I'm rejecting the implant, and that's a hasty conclusion based only on my well-documented metal sensitivity and my extreme pessimism. So I took two Darvocet and went on with my day.
I thought it would be wise to rest after the long walk on Sunday, so I didn't walk yesterday. But today I had pain rather than painlessness, so my rest theory was called into question. I decided exercise was the answer, and took another long walk today. Fairly uneventful, except for the part where the old man driving toward me in a convertible Mercedes swerved as if to intentionally hit me. I had to hop with my crutches off to the shoulder to get out of his path, and he swerved away at the last minute. I stared at him as he passed (white hair, fluffy white mustache), and he stared right back without smiling or waving. What kind of a neighbor is that?
I thought it would be wise to rest after the long walk on Sunday, so I didn't walk yesterday. But today I had pain rather than painlessness, so my rest theory was called into question. I decided exercise was the answer, and took another long walk today. Fairly uneventful, except for the part where the old man driving toward me in a convertible Mercedes swerved as if to intentionally hit me. I had to hop with my crutches off to the shoulder to get out of his path, and he swerved away at the last minute. I stared at him as he passed (white hair, fluffy white mustache), and he stared right back without smiling or waving. What kind of a neighbor is that?
Monday, July 23, 2007
Day 27: Strained
Since I really pushed it yesterday, I decided to take a day off from walking today. My leg is still a little stiff, and my back definitely feels fatigued. I think it would help to build up my abs a little bit, or maybe work on some other muscles that have weakened over the past six months. But I can't bend or crunch or anything like that, so I'm not sure how I can get to a higher level of physical fitness at the moment. My doctor didn't order any physical therapy for me, and I wish that wasn't the case. I'd like to be meeting with a PT once a week, if just to ask questions. Am I walking OK? Is it normal to have a sore thigh? Why is my upper back feeling strained? Should I be alternating feet as I go up and down stairs, or is that too much after only 27 days? I can ask all these questions of the orthopedist at my one-month appointment, but I doubt I'll get satisfactory answers. He cares mainly about the surgery itself, and maybe about any serious post-op complications caused by the surgery (like if he, say, accidentally left a pliers in me). My day-to-day life and my day-to-day aches and pains are of very little significance to him. When I called to ask if it was OK for me to have a glass of wine while I was taking the Coumadin, he made kind of a big deal about it, and came off a little suspicious or judgmental about my desire to have an alcoholic beverage. He's obviously never been trapped in his house for a month with two young kids, an overworked husband, and a cat that won't stop peeing on the floor.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Day 26: Long walk, strong leg
It's been a few days since I've written anything, mainly because I don't have much to report. I now walk without crutches all day long. They're leaning in the corner, like Tiny Tim's. Today I went for my longest walk yet, a huge loop around the neighborhood. I used the crutches for that, just in case I got too tired or needed extra stability for some reason. Using the leg as I have for the past few days has really strengthened it. I'm actually starting to forget there was ever anything wrong with it.
I was worried for a while about the pain in the front of the thigh on the operative leg, but today I noticed that I have the same pain--although not as strong--on the good leg. So I don't worry about that anymore. It's obviously just a symptom of the walking I've been doing. I have to remind myself that I was bedridden for about two weeks and my muscles are out of shape.
And speaking of my thighs, I looked down at mine yesterday and noticed that the operative leg looked skinnier than the other leg. I got out a tape measure and verified it--two extra inches on the good leg. Is this because the operative leg has some muscle atrophy? It's kind of weird, but there's no way you're going to hear me complain about having a skinny thigh.
I was worried for a while about the pain in the front of the thigh on the operative leg, but today I noticed that I have the same pain--although not as strong--on the good leg. So I don't worry about that anymore. It's obviously just a symptom of the walking I've been doing. I have to remind myself that I was bedridden for about two weeks and my muscles are out of shape.
And speaking of my thighs, I looked down at mine yesterday and noticed that the operative leg looked skinnier than the other leg. I got out a tape measure and verified it--two extra inches on the good leg. Is this because the operative leg has some muscle atrophy? It's kind of weird, but there's no way you're going to hear me complain about having a skinny thigh.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Day 23: I want out
I was more-or-less crutch-free today, even outside and on the stairs. The front of the thigh on the operative leg is still painful to the touch, but that might be normal. I still have to take two Darvocet at bedtime to help me sleep through the soreness and stiffness, but other than that I'm feeling almost like my old self. Walking without crutches changes everything. I can carry my own cup of coffee around in the morning, and that makes my day better.
I see the doctor in a week, so I'll know more then. I was hoping he'd lift my restrictions, but it's possible I'll have to wait even longer to drive and take care of the kids by myself. Some say it has to be at least eight weeks for that stuff. I'm starting to feel that the longer I'm stuck in the house, the less confident I'm going to be when I finally can go out. What kind of person under the age of 92 is housebound for 23 days and counting? It's getting like torture.
I see the doctor in a week, so I'll know more then. I was hoping he'd lift my restrictions, but it's possible I'll have to wait even longer to drive and take care of the kids by myself. Some say it has to be at least eight weeks for that stuff. I'm starting to feel that the longer I'm stuck in the house, the less confident I'm going to be when I finally can go out. What kind of person under the age of 92 is housebound for 23 days and counting? It's getting like torture.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Day 22: Heel-toe, bend the knee
I'm still getting a little bit better every day. Now I can sleep on my back or on my non-operative side, and can flip between those two positions all on my own. I keep two pillows between my knees for the side sleeping, because the operative leg is still not supposed to cross the center line of my body. It's apparently OK for me to sleep on my right side--the operative side--but even the thought of that makes my stomach flip.
My walking has improved a great deal. Yesterday I figured out that I wasn't bending my knee when I walked--I was keeping the operative leg stiff--and once I corrected that I began to walk almost without a limp. I'm using the crutches less and less, which is amazing to me. But I do have to be careful when I'm trying to turn to the right. If I'm not paying attention, a move to the right causes my operative leg to turn in a bit, and that makes the new hip move in a scary way.
I changed Thing Two's diaper for the first time in 22 days. As long as he's on the changing table, I can deal with him just fine. Normal life is almost within reach, and it's thrilling.
Thing One spent the day playing with his new bubble machine, and this proved to be the perfect activity for the two of us. He chased bubbles, I watched him chase bubbles. We had a blast.
My walking has improved a great deal. Yesterday I figured out that I wasn't bending my knee when I walked--I was keeping the operative leg stiff--and once I corrected that I began to walk almost without a limp. I'm using the crutches less and less, which is amazing to me. But I do have to be careful when I'm trying to turn to the right. If I'm not paying attention, a move to the right causes my operative leg to turn in a bit, and that makes the new hip move in a scary way.
I changed Thing Two's diaper for the first time in 22 days. As long as he's on the changing table, I can deal with him just fine. Normal life is almost within reach, and it's thrilling.
Thing One spent the day playing with his new bubble machine, and this proved to be the perfect activity for the two of us. He chased bubbles, I watched him chase bubbles. We had a blast.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Day 21: That kid weighs a ton
Today the muscles down the front of the operative leg were hurting right from the moment I woke up. I called the doctor's office to find out if it was all OK, and I was told, "It's probably just a muscle pain." So they obviously weren't concerned. I'm going to assume it's like it it would be for a anyone else--the leg hurts because I've been working it. I've been much more active over the past few days--standing more, walking more, putting more weight on the leg. Surely this will make the muscles stronger in the long run. The surgeon had to cut some muscle during the surgery, and that needs to heal. I guess I should find out for sure, but I think the exercise helps the muscle repair itself. Anyway, I took a slightly shorter walk today, and I hope the pain will be gone tomorrow.
I was finally able to pick Thing Two up today. He'll cling to my legs and reach up to me now, so as long as I'm sitting in a chair, I can grab him and lift him to my lap without bending over. He's even heavier than I remember. The poor nanny is already experiencing back pain from toting this kid around.
And this is completely off the topic, but I have to share one of my favorite kid bedtime tricks. Thing One is usually very good at bedtime, but on occasion, especially if it's hot up in his room, he fights sleep and screams about wanting to come downstairs, stay up all night, sleep on the couch (?!), etc. When we hear that commotion coming from his bedroom on a summer night, we crank up the air conditioning. After a few minutes, when he starts to feel the colder air in his room, he crawls under the blankets. Once he's under the blankets, he accidentally falls asleep. Then we put the AC back to the appropriate setting. Works almost every time.
I was finally able to pick Thing Two up today. He'll cling to my legs and reach up to me now, so as long as I'm sitting in a chair, I can grab him and lift him to my lap without bending over. He's even heavier than I remember. The poor nanny is already experiencing back pain from toting this kid around.
And this is completely off the topic, but I have to share one of my favorite kid bedtime tricks. Thing One is usually very good at bedtime, but on occasion, especially if it's hot up in his room, he fights sleep and screams about wanting to come downstairs, stay up all night, sleep on the couch (?!), etc. When we hear that commotion coming from his bedroom on a summer night, we crank up the air conditioning. After a few minutes, when he starts to feel the colder air in his room, he crawls under the blankets. Once he's under the blankets, he accidentally falls asleep. Then we put the AC back to the appropriate setting. Works almost every time.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Day 20: Cane or not?
I did better today than yesterday. I increased my morning walk by a bit, but didn't overdo it. Felt good and tried to rest a bit afterwards. It's mainly my back and shoulders hurting now, which I guess is because the back is working harder to support the weak operative hip. I'm not sure. But the back hurts. I stopped taking the Darvocet a few days ago, but I'm back on and taking it "as needed."
I'm doing more around the house now, and the first order of business is trying to help out with the kids. I can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, as long as someone else bends over to get the jelly from the refrigerator. I've been walking around a bit more without the crutches. It's easy enough to do, but I have to be very careful. One wrong twist or turn of the leg or hip could really cause trouble, and I'm terrified of slipping on the kitchen floor and falling. Because of all that, I shouldn't walk around without the crutches. I have ten more days until my one-month checkup, and I'll ask the doctor then if I should keep with the crutches or move on to a cane. The crutches make me feel like someone who can't walk, which is exactly what I am. A cane would make me feel like a granny, which I'm not. So I'm not thrilled about the cane.
The kids are doing better every day. Thing Two and I are both trying to learn to walk, and we're both doing quite well. He's now able to get up and take about six little steps, and we're pretty sure he'll be running by the end of the month. Thing One is adjusting well to the nanny situation, and the kids are all starting to play together and have fun. It's a major load off my mind.
Thing Two smacked my wireless mouse around today and now we can't get it to work. He's been obsessed with it for a while, and today he got to it when nobody was looking. Babies and computers are a terrible mix.
I'm doing more around the house now, and the first order of business is trying to help out with the kids. I can make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, as long as someone else bends over to get the jelly from the refrigerator. I've been walking around a bit more without the crutches. It's easy enough to do, but I have to be very careful. One wrong twist or turn of the leg or hip could really cause trouble, and I'm terrified of slipping on the kitchen floor and falling. Because of all that, I shouldn't walk around without the crutches. I have ten more days until my one-month checkup, and I'll ask the doctor then if I should keep with the crutches or move on to a cane. The crutches make me feel like someone who can't walk, which is exactly what I am. A cane would make me feel like a granny, which I'm not. So I'm not thrilled about the cane.
The kids are doing better every day. Thing Two and I are both trying to learn to walk, and we're both doing quite well. He's now able to get up and take about six little steps, and we're pretty sure he'll be running by the end of the month. Thing One is adjusting well to the nanny situation, and the kids are all starting to play together and have fun. It's a major load off my mind.
Thing Two smacked my wireless mouse around today and now we can't get it to work. He's been obsessed with it for a while, and today he got to it when nobody was looking. Babies and computers are a terrible mix.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Day 19: Random whining
I must have overdone it with the two walks yesterday, because I was really tired today. I took a nap in the morning and a nap in the afternoon, and I still feel a little out of it. I also have some pain down the front of the thigh of the operative leg when I walk. Hopefully it's just because the muscles are healing.
I've been reading things I shouldn't read--hip replacement horror stories. Something called osteolysis is the most common reason for an implant to fail. Osteolysis occurs when particles from the prosthesis break off and are attacked as foreign bodies by the immune system. Because the implant is attached to bone, the immune system ends up also attacking the bone. This leads to bone loss and a loosening of the implant. Some people claim that osteolysis also kickstarts chronic autoimmune diseases, but I'm not sure there's any science to back that up. Regardless, I don't want osteolysis. There is no way for anyone to know how long my prosthesis will last, or what kinds of complications I may or may not experience over the next months and years. I just have to wait it out and hope for the best.
Lee spent almost all weekend out in the backyard with the kids. Thing One is into catching bugs and launching his Spitfire glider, while Thing Two practices walking very fast with his mail cart. It gets lonely inside, so I've been standing around a bit in the yard watching everything. I try to participate, but it's a challenge. Today Thing One called out for help, but when I went to find out what he needed, he ran away from me screaming "I want daddy! I want daddy!" He had spotted a beetle up in the crape myrtle and wanted help reaching it. He knew I couldn't lift him, so he didn't want my help. I'm still depressed about it. I can't stress enough how desperate I am for life to get back to normal.
I've been reading things I shouldn't read--hip replacement horror stories. Something called osteolysis is the most common reason for an implant to fail. Osteolysis occurs when particles from the prosthesis break off and are attacked as foreign bodies by the immune system. Because the implant is attached to bone, the immune system ends up also attacking the bone. This leads to bone loss and a loosening of the implant. Some people claim that osteolysis also kickstarts chronic autoimmune diseases, but I'm not sure there's any science to back that up. Regardless, I don't want osteolysis. There is no way for anyone to know how long my prosthesis will last, or what kinds of complications I may or may not experience over the next months and years. I just have to wait it out and hope for the best.
Lee spent almost all weekend out in the backyard with the kids. Thing One is into catching bugs and launching his Spitfire glider, while Thing Two practices walking very fast with his mail cart. It gets lonely inside, so I've been standing around a bit in the yard watching everything. I try to participate, but it's a challenge. Today Thing One called out for help, but when I went to find out what he needed, he ran away from me screaming "I want daddy! I want daddy!" He had spotted a beetle up in the crape myrtle and wanted help reaching it. He knew I couldn't lift him, so he didn't want my help. I'm still depressed about it. I can't stress enough how desperate I am for life to get back to normal.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Day 18: Aspirin, transfusions, and cabin fever
I'm off the Coumadin and the doctor has me instead taking one baby aspirin a day. I bought the chewable kind to remind me of childhood. I don't think they let kids take aspirin anymore, so I'm not sure why they still make the chewable version. Anyway, it's not as good as I remember. It tastes yummy at first, but after a couple minutes there's no denying the fact that you've just chewed up an aspirin. Ick.
One of my big fears before the surgery was a blood transfusion, which is something they tell you is relatively common in the days after THR, especially for anemic patients. I didn't get to donate my own blood prior to surgery because the doctor didn't check my bloodwork (which showed anemia) until the last minute (that's another story), so any transfusion would have been blood bank blood. Blood in the blood bank is screened and "safe," of course, but your own personal blood is naturally that much safer. I was nervous about the possibility of a transfusion, so my doctor gave me the option of postponing the surgery so I'd have time to bank my own blood. My brother, who is a veterinarian, convinced me that I was worrying too much. He explained that even if I did bank my blood, it's possible it wouldn't be enough, and I'd need blood from the blood bank anyway. He also pointed out that I wouldn't be so afraid of the blood bank if, for example, I needed a transfusion during an emergency surgery. So I stopped worrying. As it turned out, I bled very little during the surgery, got my strength back quick enough afterwards, and didn't need a transfusion. I love the fact that my brother was so logical about the whole thing, because he really helped me put things in perspective. It calmed me down when I was really panicking.
I walked twice as far today as I did yesterday. Overdid it just a bit, so I put the leg up and rested for an hour afterwards.
The kids were a handful again today. Lee and I are both looking forward to life getting back to normal. It's been extremely difficult having the kids stuck in the house or the backyard for 18 straight days. We're all stir crazy, but what can we do? Normally I'd take one of the kids with me to the supermarket, or Lee and I would take both of them to the park, or out for ice cream. Since I can't ride in a car, Lee would now have to do these things on his own. But Lee is the one who needs a break, so he doesn't relish the idea of aggravating his budding ulcer by trying to wrangle the kids in public places. We usually go out as a family, so he's not used to doing that kind of thing all by himself. It's been a rough few weeks of parenting. We're exhausted.
One of my big fears before the surgery was a blood transfusion, which is something they tell you is relatively common in the days after THR, especially for anemic patients. I didn't get to donate my own blood prior to surgery because the doctor didn't check my bloodwork (which showed anemia) until the last minute (that's another story), so any transfusion would have been blood bank blood. Blood in the blood bank is screened and "safe," of course, but your own personal blood is naturally that much safer. I was nervous about the possibility of a transfusion, so my doctor gave me the option of postponing the surgery so I'd have time to bank my own blood. My brother, who is a veterinarian, convinced me that I was worrying too much. He explained that even if I did bank my blood, it's possible it wouldn't be enough, and I'd need blood from the blood bank anyway. He also pointed out that I wouldn't be so afraid of the blood bank if, for example, I needed a transfusion during an emergency surgery. So I stopped worrying. As it turned out, I bled very little during the surgery, got my strength back quick enough afterwards, and didn't need a transfusion. I love the fact that my brother was so logical about the whole thing, because he really helped me put things in perspective. It calmed me down when I was really panicking.
I walked twice as far today as I did yesterday. Overdid it just a bit, so I put the leg up and rested for an hour afterwards.
The kids were a handful again today. Lee and I are both looking forward to life getting back to normal. It's been extremely difficult having the kids stuck in the house or the backyard for 18 straight days. We're all stir crazy, but what can we do? Normally I'd take one of the kids with me to the supermarket, or Lee and I would take both of them to the park, or out for ice cream. Since I can't ride in a car, Lee would now have to do these things on his own. But Lee is the one who needs a break, so he doesn't relish the idea of aggravating his budding ulcer by trying to wrangle the kids in public places. We usually go out as a family, so he's not used to doing that kind of thing all by himself. It's been a rough few weeks of parenting. We're exhausted.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Day 17: Be careful
I've been reading various online accounts of young patients recovering from hip replacement surgery, and some of them really scare me. The number of people who break their driving restriction and are back behind the wheel two weeks post-op--against doctor's orders--is alarming. I'm sure I could drive right now, but my doctor has told me not to. And for good reason. A car accident--even a small fender bender or something like backing into a lamppost--could result in a dislocation or other traumatic injury to the healing hip. It's not worth the risk. I still have to be very careful just getting into bed, so I can't imagine getting in and out of a car a bunch of times in a day. I might be overly cautious, but to me this seems prudent after joint replacement surgery.
I managed to go for a pretty long walk today--maybe about 1/8 of a mile. I went all the way to the deserted horse farm (where I swear I heard a cow mooing yesterday) and back, and felt pretty good. Lee claims I was told to add a little distance to my walk every day. I'll take his word for it and go even farther tomorrow.
I managed to go for a pretty long walk today--maybe about 1/8 of a mile. I went all the way to the deserted horse farm (where I swear I heard a cow mooing yesterday) and back, and felt pretty good. Lee claims I was told to add a little distance to my walk every day. I'll take his word for it and go even farther tomorrow.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Day 16: Thick blood, sore back
The Coumadin still isn't thinning my blood, but I've decided not to worry about it. I am starting to worry about my back, which is killing me. I think it's because I now spend a lot of time standing, hunched over my crutches. I'm using forearm crutches, not the armpit kind, and they lend themselves to forward-leaning and downward-slouching. Another problem for my back is the lack of support for it when I'm sitting. I can only sit in a tall chair where my knee will be lower than my hip. It's a weird position, because if the chair is the right height, my feet don't naturally touch the ground. If my feet don't naturally touch the ground, I have to extend my legs and force my feet to the floor, because it's the only way to keep them from flopping around willy-nilly and jeopardizing the all-important hip stability. I guess it's hard to explain. Let's just say it's uncomfortable.
Speaking of uncomfortable, sleeping still stinks. I lie flat on my back with both legs up on pillows, and I'm stuck in that position all night. I've learned to stay asleep, which is good. For the first two weeks I was waking up every hour feeling sore and stiff. Now I'm so used to it I don't even notice.
Other than all that, I'm doing well. No pain in the hip or leg, hives gone, incision still healing well, vital signs completely normal.
The situation with the kids was good today. Lots of fun activities, including something called a Stomp Rocket, which was a huge hit with Thing One. Even when the day goes well, though, it's pretty damn exhausting. I need to find out if I'm allowed to have a martini.
Speaking of uncomfortable, sleeping still stinks. I lie flat on my back with both legs up on pillows, and I'm stuck in that position all night. I've learned to stay asleep, which is good. For the first two weeks I was waking up every hour feeling sore and stiff. Now I'm so used to it I don't even notice.
Other than all that, I'm doing well. No pain in the hip or leg, hives gone, incision still healing well, vital signs completely normal.
The situation with the kids was good today. Lots of fun activities, including something called a Stomp Rocket, which was a huge hit with Thing One. Even when the day goes well, though, it's pretty damn exhausting. I need to find out if I'm allowed to have a martini.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Day 15: I'm back
I didn't post yesterday because things went crazy around here. It wasn't the hip, though, it was the kids. Thing One in particular. He had a bad day of tantrums and attention-seeking behavior, and drove the nanny right to the edge of sanity. Thing One is freaked out about my hip. He can tell everything is different around here, and even though he's only three, he understands that the situation is serious. He's had three different caregivers in the last two weeks, and with each regime change there's another rocky transition and adjustment period. Everything came crashing down for him yesterday, emotionally speaking, and Lee and I were in full damage control mode. We spent the evening trying to figure out how to help Thing One feel more secure, and how to keep the nanny from buying a one-way ticket to Anywhere But Here. We made a new plan--more structure, more one-on-one time for Thing One and me--and everything went quite well today. It's a challenge to have two extra kids in the house, because each of the four kids always seems to need something different at the same time. Our best hope is controlled chaos. Yesterday we definitely had the chaos, but not the control. Stressful.
In all the commotion, I managed to forget that yesterday was the two week anniversary of my hip replacement. Amazing! I can't believe I've come this far this fast. I'm getting better every day--even walked around a little without crutches this afternoon. Am I allowed to do that? I've stopped taking the Darvocet, because there just doesn't seem to be any point. It seems like the worst is over for me, and I look forward to my one-month checkup on July 26. I think the doctor will lift at least some of my restrictions. I want to be able to drive again, if only to go to the store for bananas, milk, and yogurt*.
*What we happen to be out of at the moment.
In all the commotion, I managed to forget that yesterday was the two week anniversary of my hip replacement. Amazing! I can't believe I've come this far this fast. I'm getting better every day--even walked around a little without crutches this afternoon. Am I allowed to do that? I've stopped taking the Darvocet, because there just doesn't seem to be any point. It seems like the worst is over for me, and I look forward to my one-month checkup on July 26. I think the doctor will lift at least some of my restrictions. I want to be able to drive again, if only to go to the store for bananas, milk, and yogurt*.
*What we happen to be out of at the moment.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Day 13: Everything is easier
I find myself moving around very quickly now, hardly remembering that I've just had THR surgery. I think I can officially agree with what many people had told me--this surgery is something like a miracle. I'm still on crutches, of course, still can't drive, still can't even ride in a car, still can't sit in a soft or low chair, and still can't let the operative leg cross the center line of my body. Those are but some of my restrictions. But before the surgery I could barely do any of those things anyway. I couldn't alternate feet when climbing stairs, but always led with my good leg and brought the bad one up to meet it, all the while pulling myself up with the banister. Getting up out of a chair, I would have to pause and stand still for probably fifteen seconds, waiting for my bones to line themselves up before I could take a step. When I would get into my car, I'd have to first sit down behind the wheel with both my feet on the ground outside the car, then use my hands to lift my bad right leg up into the vehicle. You get used to living that way, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant. Eventually the pain gets to be too much. Walking had been causing me pain for a long time, but when even sitting and lying in bed became excruciating, I knew I had to do something.
THR at a young age is scary because artificial joints don't last forever. If you're 75 when you have the surgery, you can probably bet the prosthesis will last for the rest of your life. Some THR patients need a "revision"--my new favorite euphemism--within ten or fifteen years. So if you have the surgery in your 30s or 40s, you could be looking at hip surgery after hip surgery after hip surgery until the day you die. My doctor said, "After the surgery, you'll never be able to run or jump again." Pretty grim. I believe he meant that these are the types of activities that, while physically possible, will wear the prosthesis out faster. I haven't been able to run or jump for a very long time anyway, so I won't be missing much there. I'm just looking forward to walking without pain, and being able to shop at a mall, or take my kids to Disneyworld.
The home health nurse took out my staples today, and the incision apparently still looks "good." The doctor changed my Coumadin dosage yet again, because the last increase had no effect. I'm now taking five milligrams one day, ten the next, then five again, then ten. My blood will be checked again on Thursday to see if this has made any difference. I really get nervous when I hear that my blood is still too thick. The blood needs to be thin to help reduce the risk of a clot.
The kids did OK today on the first day with the nanny and her two children. Thing Two was his usual jovial self. He seems thrilled to have two other kids in the house, because that's two more people to make funny faces and funny noises for him. Thing One is a little bit trickier. He's aloof. He likes to do his own thing. I'm looking forward to seeing him interact with other kids every day. It's going to be an interesting summer.
THR at a young age is scary because artificial joints don't last forever. If you're 75 when you have the surgery, you can probably bet the prosthesis will last for the rest of your life. Some THR patients need a "revision"--my new favorite euphemism--within ten or fifteen years. So if you have the surgery in your 30s or 40s, you could be looking at hip surgery after hip surgery after hip surgery until the day you die. My doctor said, "After the surgery, you'll never be able to run or jump again." Pretty grim. I believe he meant that these are the types of activities that, while physically possible, will wear the prosthesis out faster. I haven't been able to run or jump for a very long time anyway, so I won't be missing much there. I'm just looking forward to walking without pain, and being able to shop at a mall, or take my kids to Disneyworld.
The home health nurse took out my staples today, and the incision apparently still looks "good." The doctor changed my Coumadin dosage yet again, because the last increase had no effect. I'm now taking five milligrams one day, ten the next, then five again, then ten. My blood will be checked again on Thursday to see if this has made any difference. I really get nervous when I hear that my blood is still too thick. The blood needs to be thin to help reduce the risk of a clot.
The kids did OK today on the first day with the nanny and her two children. Thing Two was his usual jovial self. He seems thrilled to have two other kids in the house, because that's two more people to make funny faces and funny noises for him. Thing One is a little bit trickier. He's aloof. He likes to do his own thing. I'm looking forward to seeing him interact with other kids every day. It's going to be an interesting summer.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Day 12: The party is over
I spent the last twelve days being pampered. Lee did the laundry, served up the meals, cleaned the kitchen, dressed the kids, fed the kids, played with the kids, bathed the kids, and put the kids to bed. I was able to rest, walk when I needed to, eat when I needed to, and whine a little. But Lee is going back to work tomorrow. I'm pretty sure he's excited about this. When the nanny arrives in the morning, we'll most likely look out the window to see Lee gunning that Corolla down the street and out of sight. I wish he could have a few days on the beach with a stack of books, but that's just not in the cards. His break will be going back to the office. They don't have any kids there.
Lee going back to work means the nanny will be here. We'll all be sort of back at square one, with new routines, new problems, and new thrills. I hope it goes smoothly. I'm still not able to do much with the kids, because they require a lot of holding/lifting/bending. But I can read stories, sing songs, maybe do a little puppet show. I hope to be more helpful in the weeks to come.
The hip feels good. I went for another long-ish walk today, all the way to the stop sign at the end of our street. And back. Watched the great Federer-Nadal men's final at Wimbledon and ate a bunch of great food that was delivered to us yesterday. Really living the good life, to be honest. I'm amazed to see that only three or four days ago I was still worried that my recovery wasn't going well. Everything seemed perfectly on track today, although at one point I did sit down funny, and this made my leg turn in and my hip move in a dislocatey way. Scary. This is why I need to remember to be careful and take things slow.
I have a new method when I walk with the crutches. I'm still using two crutches, but I now move each crutch with the opposite leg, which makes for a more natural walking motion. I can go pretty fast.
Lee going back to work means the nanny will be here. We'll all be sort of back at square one, with new routines, new problems, and new thrills. I hope it goes smoothly. I'm still not able to do much with the kids, because they require a lot of holding/lifting/bending. But I can read stories, sing songs, maybe do a little puppet show. I hope to be more helpful in the weeks to come.
The hip feels good. I went for another long-ish walk today, all the way to the stop sign at the end of our street. And back. Watched the great Federer-Nadal men's final at Wimbledon and ate a bunch of great food that was delivered to us yesterday. Really living the good life, to be honest. I'm amazed to see that only three or four days ago I was still worried that my recovery wasn't going well. Everything seemed perfectly on track today, although at one point I did sit down funny, and this made my leg turn in and my hip move in a dislocatey way. Scary. This is why I need to remember to be careful and take things slow.
I have a new method when I walk with the crutches. I'm still using two crutches, but I now move each crutch with the opposite leg, which makes for a more natural walking motion. I can go pretty fast.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Day 11: Pushing my luck
I have come a long way. I'm spending a lot less time in bed, and can feel my leg getting stronger and more stable. I can go up and down the stairs as many times as I need to in a day without exhausting myself. I'm sitting for longer periods of time, and can stay awake almost until my regular bedtime. Woo-hoo! But I still have to be careful. The nurses warned me about feeling too confident too soon. It hasn't even been a week since the surgery, and I don't want to push my luck. I still have to rest with my leg elevated twice a day for an hour or two, and still have to obey my rules and restrictions. I skipped my walk today because it was just too hot out. Lee tells me that's not a good reason to skip my walk. I'm not getting any physical therapy--walking is supposed to be my therapy--so I can't get lazy. I'll take a walk tomorrow.
Thing One claimed to be a "hip doctor" today. He asked me a lot of questions about the hip, how is it doing, is it hurting?, etc. Very cute. He says when he grows up he wants to be a hip doctor, or a veterinarian who specializes in the treatment of cats and worms.
Thing One claimed to be a "hip doctor" today. He asked me a lot of questions about the hip, how is it doing, is it hurting?, etc. Very cute. He says when he grows up he wants to be a hip doctor, or a veterinarian who specializes in the treatment of cats and worms.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Day 10: Approaching normal
Had an especially good day today. Woke up feeling strong. Took a shower, ate breakfast, watched a little tennis. Noticed that the hives were gone. Crazy! Why were they there? Where did they go? Hopefully they won't come back.
I had almost no pain today, so we decided to go for a walk. Lee put the kids in the double stroller and we all cruised up the street together. I felt like a regular person! Even though I was on crutches, I was walking at least as fast as before the surgery, when the pain was making me hobble. I didn't want to overdo it, so I returned to the house to rest and watch more tennis (finally a day without rain delays!) while Lee and the kids continued around the neighborhood. Definitely the best I've felt in ten days.
My blood was still on the thick side when the home health nurse checked it yesterday, so today the surgeon increased my Coumadin dosage. I'm kind of scared of Coumadin, so I'm looking forward to being done with it.
One of my big frustrations has been finding a comfortable sitting position, and last night I had a major breakthrough on that front. I put a couple of pillows on the seat of the wingback chair and sat down in a way reclined position, like I was on a luge. I could put the operative leg straight-ish out in front of me or bend it at the knee--either option was quite comfortable. This recumbent position took the pressure off my butt, and that in turn saved my back. Not sure if this setup really qualifies as "sitting," but I'm taking what I can get. I was able to stay up late, which was refreshing.
I keep forgetting to mention my much-loved elevated toilet seat, which bears a striking similarity to the potty trainer we used for Thing One.
I had almost no pain today, so we decided to go for a walk. Lee put the kids in the double stroller and we all cruised up the street together. I felt like a regular person! Even though I was on crutches, I was walking at least as fast as before the surgery, when the pain was making me hobble. I didn't want to overdo it, so I returned to the house to rest and watch more tennis (finally a day without rain delays!) while Lee and the kids continued around the neighborhood. Definitely the best I've felt in ten days.
My blood was still on the thick side when the home health nurse checked it yesterday, so today the surgeon increased my Coumadin dosage. I'm kind of scared of Coumadin, so I'm looking forward to being done with it.
One of my big frustrations has been finding a comfortable sitting position, and last night I had a major breakthrough on that front. I put a couple of pillows on the seat of the wingback chair and sat down in a way reclined position, like I was on a luge. I could put the operative leg straight-ish out in front of me or bend it at the knee--either option was quite comfortable. This recumbent position took the pressure off my butt, and that in turn saved my back. Not sure if this setup really qualifies as "sitting," but I'm taking what I can get. I was able to stay up late, which was refreshing.
I keep forgetting to mention my much-loved elevated toilet seat, which bears a striking similarity to the potty trainer we used for Thing One.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Day 9: What I do
My recovery isn't exactly what I expected. I was given the impression that I'd be leading a fairly normal life after the first week, but just doing everything very carefully, on crutches. That's nowhere near what I'm experiencing. Every patient is different, so it's possible I'm more of a wimp than others. But since I'm "young," the doctor and nurses all seemed convinced I'd be "active" and that my recovery would be quicker and easier than the average THR patient's. I don't have a lot of pain, but I am exhausted and sore off and on all day, and I'm always completely pooped by dinnertime.
My average day:
Wake up at 6:30 am, stiff and sore from sleeping in the same position for hours.
Walk up and down the hall a few times, then sit up in bed, watch a little TV.
Drink a cup of coffee and eat breakfast in bed (not because I'm spoiled, but because it's too uncomfortable for me to sit up in a chair) at about 8 am.
Go downstairs at about 9 am. Walk around, spend five or ten minutes (or as long as I tolerate sitting) checking email and internet.
Back up to bed at 9:30 am to elevate my leg and watch TV, occasionally getting up out of bed to walk around the room on my crutches.
Eat lunch in bed, then head downstairs at about 11:30 am. Maybe go outside, take a walk up and down the driveway.
Back up to bed at 12:30 for an afternoon nap.
Wake up at 3:00 pm. Walk around the room or up and down the hall. Elevate leg, watch TV.
Come downstairs again about 5:00 pm. Walk around on crutches. Check email or internet for as long as I can tolerate sitting.
Back upstairs and into bed at 6:00 pm to elevate my leg and rest.
Back downstairs at 7:00 pm. Stay downstairs for about an hour, or just long enough to eat dinner.
Back to bed for the night at about 8:00 pm, or a little bit later if I'm not too uncomfortable.
That's it. Doesn't exactly sound like normal life, does it? If this is "young and active," I'd hate to see what the elderly THR patients are going through.
My average day:
Wake up at 6:30 am, stiff and sore from sleeping in the same position for hours.
Walk up and down the hall a few times, then sit up in bed, watch a little TV.
Drink a cup of coffee and eat breakfast in bed (not because I'm spoiled, but because it's too uncomfortable for me to sit up in a chair) at about 8 am.
Go downstairs at about 9 am. Walk around, spend five or ten minutes (or as long as I tolerate sitting) checking email and internet.
Back up to bed at 9:30 am to elevate my leg and watch TV, occasionally getting up out of bed to walk around the room on my crutches.
Eat lunch in bed, then head downstairs at about 11:30 am. Maybe go outside, take a walk up and down the driveway.
Back up to bed at 12:30 for an afternoon nap.
Wake up at 3:00 pm. Walk around the room or up and down the hall. Elevate leg, watch TV.
Come downstairs again about 5:00 pm. Walk around on crutches. Check email or internet for as long as I can tolerate sitting.
Back upstairs and into bed at 6:00 pm to elevate my leg and rest.
Back downstairs at 7:00 pm. Stay downstairs for about an hour, or just long enough to eat dinner.
Back to bed for the night at about 8:00 pm, or a little bit later if I'm not too uncomfortable.
That's it. Doesn't exactly sound like normal life, does it? If this is "young and active," I'd hate to see what the elderly THR patients are going through.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Day 8: Good leg, bad hives
Woke up from my afternoon nap today feeling really good. No pain at all in the operative leg, and no more muscle aches in the other leg. It's an Independence Day miracle.
More hives this morning. I took Benadryl again, but it seems to be less and less effective. The hives could be a reaction to the Coumadin, or the combination of Darvocet and Coumadin. I hope it's as simple as that.
Thing One spends all day outside collecting bugs and cramming them into his Bug Boxes. He has solved our Japanese Beetle problem single-handedly.
More hives this morning. I took Benadryl again, but it seems to be less and less effective. The hives could be a reaction to the Coumadin, or the combination of Darvocet and Coumadin. I hope it's as simple as that.
Thing One spends all day outside collecting bugs and cramming them into his Bug Boxes. He has solved our Japanese Beetle problem single-handedly.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Day 7: More hives
The hives were back today, which was worrying, at least for me. I took Benadryl again, but it didn't work as well as it did yesterday. I keep jumping to worst-case-scenario conclusions--my body is rejecting the prosthesis!--even though I have no real proof that anything is going wrong. A home health nurse will be in for a visit on Thursday, so I'll see what she says. The last nurse to visit had no idea why I was getting the hives, and told me to call my doctor. Of course the doctor doesn't have any idea, either.
Other than the hives, things went pretty well today. I'm back to normal with appetite, and I have a little more energy. I still get tired very quickly, especially when I sit up for too long. I seem to be having good days and bad days. On the good days, I walk around a lot and feel great. That tires me out and makes the following day somewhat bad. Today was a bad-ish day. Still, I feel that my progress is good for only seven days post-surgery. I expect to be in great shape by August 1.
I am starting to feel a little disconnected from the kids, especially Thing Two. He can't walk and I can't carry him, so we only have contact when Lee holds him up for me to kiss. I'm used to putting him to bed every night--giving him a bath, reading him a book, etc.--but of course I haven't been able to do that for a week now. He's starting to talk more and more, but his favorite thing to say is still "uh-oh." Today he threw his sippy cup on the floor and said, "Uh-oh!," after which I heard Lee tell him, "When you do it on purpose, it's not 'uh-oh,' it's 'naughty-o'."
Other than the hives, things went pretty well today. I'm back to normal with appetite, and I have a little more energy. I still get tired very quickly, especially when I sit up for too long. I seem to be having good days and bad days. On the good days, I walk around a lot and feel great. That tires me out and makes the following day somewhat bad. Today was a bad-ish day. Still, I feel that my progress is good for only seven days post-surgery. I expect to be in great shape by August 1.
I am starting to feel a little disconnected from the kids, especially Thing Two. He can't walk and I can't carry him, so we only have contact when Lee holds him up for me to kiss. I'm used to putting him to bed every night--giving him a bath, reading him a book, etc.--but of course I haven't been able to do that for a week now. He's starting to talk more and more, but his favorite thing to say is still "uh-oh." Today he threw his sippy cup on the floor and said, "Uh-oh!," after which I heard Lee tell him, "When you do it on purpose, it's not 'uh-oh,' it's 'naughty-o'."
Monday, July 2, 2007
Day 6: Much better
I have more strength today, and a better appetite. More importantly, I was finally able to take a shower. I was scared at first, not really sure how I'd stand or move around in the shower without my crutches. But I did fine. The operative leg can bear weight, so I shuffled around, got my hair washed, and cleaned myself up.
Just to keep things interesting, I broke out in hives on the operative leg. I have a sensitivity to some metals--anything with nickel content, I guess--so I began to panic, thinking that the hives were a sign that my body was rejecting the prosthesis. The prosthesis, as far as I know, is titanium and ceramic, so it really should be OK. I was tested for metal sensitivity prior to the surgery, and my doctor knew what he was dealing with. So why am I getting hives all over the knee and thigh of the operative leg? We're hoping the hives were a reaction to that antiseptic junk they slather on you before surgery. On me they used something green, so I had one nasty Incredible Hulk-ish leg all week. I was told not to wash the green off (because it was supposedly still fighting bacteria on my skin?), but I don't think my skin liked this idea. I scrubbed the crud off my leg in the shower today, and took Benedryl. The hives are gone for now.
I took the bandage off today, and a home health nurse came to check the incision (it "looks good" and is less than 4" long) and test the clottiness of my blood. I'm on Coumadin, which is a blood thinner they use to reduce the risk of a blood clot. My blood was a little on the thick side, even with the Coumadin, so the dosage may have to be changed.
There is only very slight pain at the incision site, typical of any area where you have stitches or staples in your body. The most annoying pain now is on the inside of the thigh on the operative leg. Feels like a pulled muscle, probably from overcompensating for the weak muscles around my hip that were cut during the surgery.
I was able to go outside today, and that was fantastic. It was an unusually nice day today--not suffocatingly hot, as it usually is here in July--so I strolled up and down the driveway two or three times on my crutches. My tomato plants look good, and we were able harvest our first two yellow squash of the season.
Lee had an easier time with the kids today. I think everybody is finally getting into a routine. Thing One asked me to read Katy and the Big Snow to him tonight, and I obliged. He wanted to sit on my lap, but I managed to convince him to sit on the arm of my chair instead. It's tricky. I don't want to scare the kids, or make them feel like they can't touch me. But I have to be constantly aware of where they are in relation to my leg and my crutches. I'm doing what I can to help the kids feel like I'm still the same and they're still the same and we're all doing great. Because we are.
Just to keep things interesting, I broke out in hives on the operative leg. I have a sensitivity to some metals--anything with nickel content, I guess--so I began to panic, thinking that the hives were a sign that my body was rejecting the prosthesis. The prosthesis, as far as I know, is titanium and ceramic, so it really should be OK. I was tested for metal sensitivity prior to the surgery, and my doctor knew what he was dealing with. So why am I getting hives all over the knee and thigh of the operative leg? We're hoping the hives were a reaction to that antiseptic junk they slather on you before surgery. On me they used something green, so I had one nasty Incredible Hulk-ish leg all week. I was told not to wash the green off (because it was supposedly still fighting bacteria on my skin?), but I don't think my skin liked this idea. I scrubbed the crud off my leg in the shower today, and took Benedryl. The hives are gone for now.
I took the bandage off today, and a home health nurse came to check the incision (it "looks good" and is less than 4" long) and test the clottiness of my blood. I'm on Coumadin, which is a blood thinner they use to reduce the risk of a blood clot. My blood was a little on the thick side, even with the Coumadin, so the dosage may have to be changed.
There is only very slight pain at the incision site, typical of any area where you have stitches or staples in your body. The most annoying pain now is on the inside of the thigh on the operative leg. Feels like a pulled muscle, probably from overcompensating for the weak muscles around my hip that were cut during the surgery.
I was able to go outside today, and that was fantastic. It was an unusually nice day today--not suffocatingly hot, as it usually is here in July--so I strolled up and down the driveway two or three times on my crutches. My tomato plants look good, and we were able harvest our first two yellow squash of the season.
Lee had an easier time with the kids today. I think everybody is finally getting into a routine. Thing One asked me to read Katy and the Big Snow to him tonight, and I obliged. He wanted to sit on my lap, but I managed to convince him to sit on the arm of my chair instead. It's tricky. I don't want to scare the kids, or make them feel like they can't touch me. But I have to be constantly aware of where they are in relation to my leg and my crutches. I'm doing what I can to help the kids feel like I'm still the same and they're still the same and we're all doing great. Because we are.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Day 5: Gatorade and TV
I feel a lot better now that I've stopped taking the Lortab. I talked to the doctor yesterday about my inability to sit up without dizziness, and he guessed that the vomiting of the past few days had led to weakness and dehydration. He told me to drink Gatorade and eat more. I started that plan yesterday, since I can finally keep food down. Last night I was able to eat a piece of chicken, some cooked carrots, pasta salad, and a slice of pound cake. I felt great.
I'm moving around much better now, and the hip really does not hurt. The whole right side of my butt is sore, and feels like I've fallen off a horse and bruised myself badly. That's no big deal. Most disturbing at the moment is the fact that I still have not been able to take a shower. In the old days, you used to get a sponge bath when you were a hospital inpatient. Not anymore! I was left in my smelly, Betadine-stained gown. I did ask for a fresh gown, but when the nurse brought one, she put it across the room where I couldn't reach it. I foolishly thought she would help me change, since I was restricted from walking, reaching across my body, twisting, or bending over. But no. So in a fit of desperation, I used my reacher to grab the clean gown, then broke my restrictions by reaching back and untying the smelly gown. I dressed myself, miraculously. But I don't understand why nurses are no longer required or encouraged to help patients with basic hygiene. I felt like I was imposing on the nurses each morning and night when I asked to be able to brush my teeth. They seemed to have no set up for this--it was as if I was the first person who'd ever asked. I was brought a Styrofoam cup of water and a towel to use as a bib.
It turns out I have picked a good time to be bedridden, TV-wise. I watch Wimbledon every summer, but I don't usually get the chance to see the early rounds, as I have this year from my sickbed. And last night I enjoyed another wonderful tradition, the Miss Virginia Pageant. I mean, who doesn't want to get a good look at Miss Chesterfield, or Miss Portsmouth Seawall?
I was up and around a bit more today, but still woozy and still having to spend a good deal of time in bed. We've received fantastic meals and treats from friends and family this week, and another chair donation, too. People have been wonderful to us. The kids are definitely freaked out by my condition, which was kind of a surprise to me. I get sad looking out the window watching them play. I'm already tired of this recovery.
I'm moving around much better now, and the hip really does not hurt. The whole right side of my butt is sore, and feels like I've fallen off a horse and bruised myself badly. That's no big deal. Most disturbing at the moment is the fact that I still have not been able to take a shower. In the old days, you used to get a sponge bath when you were a hospital inpatient. Not anymore! I was left in my smelly, Betadine-stained gown. I did ask for a fresh gown, but when the nurse brought one, she put it across the room where I couldn't reach it. I foolishly thought she would help me change, since I was restricted from walking, reaching across my body, twisting, or bending over. But no. So in a fit of desperation, I used my reacher to grab the clean gown, then broke my restrictions by reaching back and untying the smelly gown. I dressed myself, miraculously. But I don't understand why nurses are no longer required or encouraged to help patients with basic hygiene. I felt like I was imposing on the nurses each morning and night when I asked to be able to brush my teeth. They seemed to have no set up for this--it was as if I was the first person who'd ever asked. I was brought a Styrofoam cup of water and a towel to use as a bib.
It turns out I have picked a good time to be bedridden, TV-wise. I watch Wimbledon every summer, but I don't usually get the chance to see the early rounds, as I have this year from my sickbed. And last night I enjoyed another wonderful tradition, the Miss Virginia Pageant. I mean, who doesn't want to get a good look at Miss Chesterfield, or Miss Portsmouth Seawall?
I was up and around a bit more today, but still woozy and still having to spend a good deal of time in bed. We've received fantastic meals and treats from friends and family this week, and another chair donation, too. People have been wonderful to us. The kids are definitely freaked out by my condition, which was kind of a surprise to me. I get sad looking out the window watching them play. I'm already tired of this recovery.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Day 4
I'm finally sort of able to sit up and write a bit. There are a few points I'd like to make:
1. If your insurance company offers to loan you an adjustable hospital bed, say yes. If your doctor or your physical therapist tells you not to accept the adjustable hospital bed, say BITE ME.
2. There is no way a THR patient should be sent home from the hospital after two days. I need to still be in the hospital now. I believe I should have remained in the hospital for at least five, maybe as many as ten days. I assume it's the insurance companies who do not allow this. This "two days only" policy is, I believe, very recent. It's cruel.
3. If you have THR, make sure you have somebody to help you at home round the clock. I had the surgery four days ago, and I still need help doing even the simplest things. I have to wake my husband in the middle of the night just to help me move into a slightly different sleeping position, for example.
Although I have come a long way since Wednesday, I am still more incapacitated than I've ever been in my life. The Lortab for pain was making me vomit, so I'm back on Darvocet, which does almost nothing. I spend a lot of time lying in bed because sitting up makes me dizzy and nauseous, but if I spend too much time in bed, my back becomes extremely stiff and sore. So there is no way to be comfortable, ever. An adjustable bed would have helped quite a bit with all this. Each of my legs has to be carefully balanced on pillows and a foam abductor pillow has to be set between the legs to keep my operative leg from leaning or flopping in (and therefore causing excruciating pain). With an adjustable bed, you just crank up the foot of the bed. Problem solved. Without an adjustable bed, you have to wake your husband and he has to go through the complicated and delicate process of repositioning all the pillows.
This post probably doesn't make much sense, because I'm still pretty out of it. I can only sit up in a chair for about fifteen minutes before my back begins to ache. My whole body is extremely weak, and I am still not allowed to shower. The incision is still draining slightly, and it's supposed to be completely dry before I can get it wet.
I have not been able to care for the kids at all. Not even for one second.
Gotta go back to bed.
1. If your insurance company offers to loan you an adjustable hospital bed, say yes. If your doctor or your physical therapist tells you not to accept the adjustable hospital bed, say BITE ME.
2. There is no way a THR patient should be sent home from the hospital after two days. I need to still be in the hospital now. I believe I should have remained in the hospital for at least five, maybe as many as ten days. I assume it's the insurance companies who do not allow this. This "two days only" policy is, I believe, very recent. It's cruel.
3. If you have THR, make sure you have somebody to help you at home round the clock. I had the surgery four days ago, and I still need help doing even the simplest things. I have to wake my husband in the middle of the night just to help me move into a slightly different sleeping position, for example.
Although I have come a long way since Wednesday, I am still more incapacitated than I've ever been in my life. The Lortab for pain was making me vomit, so I'm back on Darvocet, which does almost nothing. I spend a lot of time lying in bed because sitting up makes me dizzy and nauseous, but if I spend too much time in bed, my back becomes extremely stiff and sore. So there is no way to be comfortable, ever. An adjustable bed would have helped quite a bit with all this. Each of my legs has to be carefully balanced on pillows and a foam abductor pillow has to be set between the legs to keep my operative leg from leaning or flopping in (and therefore causing excruciating pain). With an adjustable bed, you just crank up the foot of the bed. Problem solved. Without an adjustable bed, you have to wake your husband and he has to go through the complicated and delicate process of repositioning all the pillows.
This post probably doesn't make much sense, because I'm still pretty out of it. I can only sit up in a chair for about fifteen minutes before my back begins to ache. My whole body is extremely weak, and I am still not allowed to shower. The incision is still draining slightly, and it's supposed to be completely dry before I can get it wet.
I have not been able to care for the kids at all. Not even for one second.
Gotta go back to bed.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Pukiness
Still Lee:
TLL was able to sit at her computer for a few minutes today and read your comments. They mean a lot to us, as does all of the help and good wishes.
Unfortunately, the day devolved into vomiting. Blueberry vomit, if you're wondering. Pretty spectacular. Here's a little tip: How do you tell blueberry vomit from bloody vomit? Bloody vomit may look like coffee grounds, and it certainly will be dark in color and smell like blood. Blueberry vomit smells like blueberries and is brighter in color. If it ever comes up (har har), now you know.
So, after consulting with someone named Gail at the Joint Replacement Center, we've switched over to Darvocet and stepped up the laxative. Remains to be seen whether the Darvocet will be sufficient for the pain.
Before his bath, Thing 1 visited his mother in our bedroom. He had a lot of technical questions about crutches. (Those of you who know him can imagine.) He also said the sweetest things. Like, "Mama, I hope your hip feels better soon so you can go downstairs to eat your blueberries." And more stuff like that. A wag might find a possible cause of pukiness right there. I guess I'm not a wag. I got a little misty to tell you the truth.
TLL was able to sit at her computer for a few minutes today and read your comments. They mean a lot to us, as does all of the help and good wishes.
Unfortunately, the day devolved into vomiting. Blueberry vomit, if you're wondering. Pretty spectacular. Here's a little tip: How do you tell blueberry vomit from bloody vomit? Bloody vomit may look like coffee grounds, and it certainly will be dark in color and smell like blood. Blueberry vomit smells like blueberries and is brighter in color. If it ever comes up (har har), now you know.
So, after consulting with someone named Gail at the Joint Replacement Center, we've switched over to Darvocet and stepped up the laxative. Remains to be seen whether the Darvocet will be sufficient for the pain.
Before his bath, Thing 1 visited his mother in our bedroom. He had a lot of technical questions about crutches. (Those of you who know him can imagine.) He also said the sweetest things. Like, "Mama, I hope your hip feels better soon so you can go downstairs to eat your blueberries." And more stuff like that. A wag might find a possible cause of pukiness right there. I guess I'm not a wag. I got a little misty to tell you the truth.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Home
Still Lee, I'm afraid:
Another up and down day. I got to the hospital just in time to see TLL puke up her french toast and, apparently, some of yesterday's rice noodle salad from the Mekong. This breaks a streak all of 9 days long. TLL took this rather hard, as it in all probability means her pain pills (Lortab) are making her sick. We don't want that to happen, because the alternative (Darvocet) doesn't actually do much for pain. Darvocet is sort of the O'Doul's of painkillers.
She did all she needed to at the hospital -- peed, walked with the forearm crutches, did some stairs -- but we waited around until 4 p.m. trying to determine if the Lortab would maker her sick again. So far it hasn't.
She got home in time to see the kids eating their curry, always a vivid, yellow experience, then went up the bed. Between the pain, having to lie in one position, and the rather awkward arrangement we had to make to get her feet elevated, she's really, really uncomfortable tonight. Also, someone forgot to freeze the ice packs. So.
I have good company in the dog house. The good name of the medical establishment is really being dragged through the mud right now.
TLL got some nice schwag today, too. Designer cookies, a gardenia, another plant the name of which escapes me. Thanks for the good wishes, telephone calls, gifts, and so on. It's appreciated. We're working hard to remember (and believe) this is going to get better. Wheee!
Another up and down day. I got to the hospital just in time to see TLL puke up her french toast and, apparently, some of yesterday's rice noodle salad from the Mekong. This breaks a streak all of 9 days long. TLL took this rather hard, as it in all probability means her pain pills (Lortab) are making her sick. We don't want that to happen, because the alternative (Darvocet) doesn't actually do much for pain. Darvocet is sort of the O'Doul's of painkillers.
She did all she needed to at the hospital -- peed, walked with the forearm crutches, did some stairs -- but we waited around until 4 p.m. trying to determine if the Lortab would maker her sick again. So far it hasn't.
She got home in time to see the kids eating their curry, always a vivid, yellow experience, then went up the bed. Between the pain, having to lie in one position, and the rather awkward arrangement we had to make to get her feet elevated, she's really, really uncomfortable tonight. Also, someone
I have good company in the dog house. The good name of the medical establishment is really being dragged through the mud right now.
TLL got some nice schwag today, too. Designer cookies, a gardenia, another plant the name of which escapes me. Thanks for the good wishes, telephone calls, gifts, and so on. It's appreciated. We're working hard to remember (and believe) this is going to get better. Wheee!
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Day 2
Lee reporting:
Day 2 was rather shakier than Day 1. This was not altogether unexpected. You see, the narcotics in the spine wear off after 24 hours. The first difficulty was sitting up to eat breakfast. She became light-headed (perhaps because of pain pills, perhaps because of the excitement of seeing a sausage biscuit) and had to be hustled back to bed. Her blood pressure was also low enough to cause some concern, but this is pretty common after surgery.
Over the course of the day, her blood pressure improved, and she never had another case of the vapors. She took a couple of good walks around the JCR -- 130 feet the first time, 180 the second. Getting into and out of the bed remained difficult, but there were no more scary popping noises. (The surgeon said yesterday's popping noises were probably a couple of stitches coming loose. This was meant to be reassuring.)
As the day wore on, pain became a big problem. Pain killers help some, but she hurts right now. After I got home, she called to say insult had been added to injury: the night nurse was mean, hurrying her into and out of bed, yanking her leg, and bitching when Louise yelled in pain. So you know what? I don't like this person. Uh uh. No sir. Her shift was over at eleven, so with some luck she has by now ridden her broomstick out of our lives never to be seen again.
Tomorrow Louise will go to the bathroom, use her forearm crutches, and climb some stairs. Then she'll be ready to come home, probably sometime in the afternoon. She's apprehensive about this, but I know she's tough. And the kids and I can't wait to have her home again.
Day 2 was rather shakier than Day 1. This was not altogether unexpected. You see, the narcotics in the spine wear off after 24 hours. The first difficulty was sitting up to eat breakfast. She became light-headed (perhaps because of pain pills, perhaps because of the excitement of seeing a sausage biscuit) and had to be hustled back to bed. Her blood pressure was also low enough to cause some concern, but this is pretty common after surgery.
Over the course of the day, her blood pressure improved, and she never had another case of the vapors. She took a couple of good walks around the JCR -- 130 feet the first time, 180 the second. Getting into and out of the bed remained difficult, but there were no more scary popping noises. (The surgeon said yesterday's popping noises were probably a couple of stitches coming loose. This was meant to be reassuring.)
As the day wore on, pain became a big problem. Pain killers help some, but she hurts right now. After I got home, she called to say insult had been added to injury: the night nurse was mean, hurrying her into and out of bed, yanking her leg, and bitching when Louise yelled in pain. So you know what? I don't like this person. Uh uh. No sir. Her shift was over at eleven, so with some luck she has by now ridden her broomstick out of our lives never to be seen again.
Tomorrow Louise will go to the bathroom, use her forearm crutches, and climb some stairs. Then she'll be ready to come home, probably sometime in the afternoon. She's apprehensive about this, but I know she's tough. And the kids and I can't wait to have her home again.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
A Good Day for Cutting, Sawing, Hammering, Stitching, Etc.
Lee here, reporting events as best I can remember them.
The Little Lady and I left for the hospital at the breakabreaka dawn. Check-in time was 6:30. We were there about twenty minutes early. TLL likes to be early for things. Me, I don't mind being early for things -- as long as it's not surgery. Then I'm not so into the early thing. But that's me.
TLL was given a hospital gown, fly socks with rubbery bits, a hat. She changed into these and filled out more paperwork of the I'm-really-sure-it's-my-right-hip variety. We chatted. There was some fretting about this and that. In particular there was fretting about enema efficacy. Then the man came to wheel her off to pre-op where husbands and such are not allowed.
I was given a (very, very small) piece of paper directing me to the Joint Replacement Center, and, after the kissing TLL goodbye, struck off for the waiting room. I actually opened the JRC. It was deserted at that time on a Tuesday morning, literally. The lights were off. I turned the lights on and settled in for a morning of old Time magazines and Virginia Fish and Game ("2007 Crappie Forecast"). At the end I was actually tempted by the Guideposts with Kellie Pickler on the cover ("Raised by an Angel") but elected instead to stare into space.
Meanwhile, the star of this show was given some IV drugs to make her sleepy. A nurse (or maybe doctor?) came and stage-whispered to her, "I had my hip replaced. You are going to be so happy." Another nurse described to her how the anesthetist would administer the spinal. She was directed to sit on the edge of the bed and lean forward. There was some discussion about which needle to poke into her back, and that's the last thing she remembered until . . . pop! She woke up in recovery.
She was in recovery about twice as long as expected, almost two and a half hours. Apparently this was because they had to give her more juice when, during surgery, she began saying that she could feel what they were doing.
Wowza.
Fortunately, she has no memory of this. So she waited in recovery, listening to other patients talking about kids, a subject near and dear to her heart.
When TLL was able to move her feet, she was released to the Joint Replacement Center. I was notified and got to see her in her room. She looked great and was in a great mood. I think the combination of relief, absence of pain, and, critically, the morphine pickling her spine made her euphoric. She and I had a great afternoon, just chatting. It was like the last time we had a date -- when Thing 2 was getting born.
A few of her wonderful and resourceful friends called. From what I can remember, they mostly talked about enema efficacy ("disappointing," "non-event").
We kept expecting her to throw up. But since her last surgery (ankle) they have apparently improved the management of anesthetic-induced vomiting. She wore a sea-sickness patch behind her ear, and that seemed to do the trick. (As a bonus side-effect, she could see some trails. Trippy.)
I stuck around to see her walk for the first time at a little before 4 p.m. The physical therapist came in, gave some general advice about how to get out of bed, gestured vaguely, and watched as TLL swung her legs out of bed and, using a walker, walked out of the room, a little ways into the hall, turned around, walked back, and lay down.
The new hip did pop loudly a couple of times as she got into and out of the bed. This didn't seem to raise too much alarm among the staff, but it sure wasn't pleasant to hear. We did ask for an explanation and were told, "Sometimes they do that."
Here's an interesting factoid I forgot to include above: A representative of the manufacturer of the bionic hip was in the room during the surgery. I guess they consult? Like, "Yeah, the big end goes up, the little end you pound down into the femur." Or something?
To everyone who has commented, I'll convey your good wishes. It means a lot to her. Please keep it coming!
I know this second-hand account is not what you paid your two bits to see. Just a couple more days until you-know-who returns to give you all the juicy bits. Thing 1, Thing 2, and I can't wait.
The Little Lady and I left for the hospital at the breakabreaka dawn. Check-in time was 6:30. We were there about twenty minutes early. TLL likes to be early for things. Me, I don't mind being early for things -- as long as it's not surgery. Then I'm not so into the early thing. But that's me.
TLL was given a hospital gown, fly socks with rubbery bits, a hat. She changed into these and filled out more paperwork of the I'm-really-sure-it's-my-right-hip variety. We chatted. There was some fretting about this and that. In particular there was fretting about enema efficacy. Then the man came to wheel her off to pre-op where husbands and such are not allowed.
I was given a (very, very small) piece of paper directing me to the Joint Replacement Center, and, after the kissing TLL goodbye, struck off for the waiting room. I actually opened the JRC. It was deserted at that time on a Tuesday morning, literally. The lights were off. I turned the lights on and settled in for a morning of old Time magazines and Virginia Fish and Game ("2007 Crappie Forecast"). At the end I was actually tempted by the Guideposts with Kellie Pickler on the cover ("Raised by an Angel") but elected instead to stare into space.
Meanwhile, the star of this show was given some IV drugs to make her sleepy. A nurse (or maybe doctor?) came and stage-whispered to her, "I had my hip replaced. You are going to be so happy." Another nurse described to her how the anesthetist would administer the spinal. She was directed to sit on the edge of the bed and lean forward. There was some discussion about which needle to poke into her back, and that's the last thing she remembered until . . . pop! She woke up in recovery.
She was in recovery about twice as long as expected, almost two and a half hours. Apparently this was because they had to give her more juice when, during surgery, she began saying that she could feel what they were doing.
Wowza.
Fortunately, she has no memory of this. So she waited in recovery, listening to other patients talking about kids, a subject near and dear to her heart.
When TLL was able to move her feet, she was released to the Joint Replacement Center. I was notified and got to see her in her room. She looked great and was in a great mood. I think the combination of relief, absence of pain, and, critically, the morphine pickling her spine made her euphoric. She and I had a great afternoon, just chatting. It was like the last time we had a date -- when Thing 2 was getting born.
A few of her wonderful and resourceful friends called. From what I can remember, they mostly talked about enema efficacy ("disappointing," "non-event").
We kept expecting her to throw up. But since her last surgery (ankle) they have apparently improved the management of anesthetic-induced vomiting. She wore a sea-sickness patch behind her ear, and that seemed to do the trick. (As a bonus side-effect, she could see some trails. Trippy.)
I stuck around to see her walk for the first time at a little before 4 p.m. The physical therapist came in, gave some general advice about how to get out of bed, gestured vaguely, and watched as TLL swung her legs out of bed and, using a walker, walked out of the room, a little ways into the hall, turned around, walked back, and lay down.
The new hip did pop loudly a couple of times as she got into and out of the bed. This didn't seem to raise too much alarm among the staff, but it sure wasn't pleasant to hear. We did ask for an explanation and were told, "Sometimes they do that."
Here's an interesting factoid I forgot to include above: A representative of the manufacturer of the bionic hip was in the room during the surgery. I guess they consult? Like, "Yeah, the big end goes up, the little end you pound down into the femur." Or something?
To everyone who has commented, I'll convey your good wishes. It means a lot to her. Please keep it coming!
I know this second-hand account is not what you paid your two bits to see. Just a couple more days until you-know-who returns to give you all the juicy bits. Thing 1, Thing 2, and I can't wait.
All Systems Nominal
Everything went well today. She's in great spirits. Even did a little (supervised) walking on the bionic hip. Details to follow later tonight.
Monday, June 25, 2007
The night before
My last day with the original hip is just about over. Before bed I have to take a shower and scrub myself down with something called Dyna-Hex. I then have to dry off with a clean towel, put on clean pajamas, and sleep on clean sheets. When I get up at 5 am, I have to take another shower, scrub myself down again with Dyna-Hex, and head out for the surgery. This is all an effort to combat some kind of staph infection they have in hospitals, so I'm happy to do it. I'll be really clean.
I've had a rather panicky day. Freaking out about everything, especially the kids. I almost couldn't put Scrunch into his crib because I was so sad to leave him, and when I kissed the other one goodnight, I almost had a total breakdown.
I don't have a lot more to say. Lee will post tomorrow to give an update on my condition. The surgery takes about an hour and a half, so I should be in the recovery room by 9 am. Not sure when Lee will be able to post, since we won't have a laptop at the hospital.
I'm looking forward to getting rid of my hip pain, or at least for trading the current pain in on a new kind of pain. I'm not looking forward to being housebound for so long, but that's just the way it is. I'll be under some serious restrictions for a long time. No crossing the legs or ankles, no reaching across my body, no rotating the right foot in, no bending down, no showering, and no sitting for more than 45 minutes at a time. It's a lot to remember.
I am the first hip surgery of the morning. I sure hope it all goes well.
I've had a rather panicky day. Freaking out about everything, especially the kids. I almost couldn't put Scrunch into his crib because I was so sad to leave him, and when I kissed the other one goodnight, I almost had a total breakdown.
I don't have a lot more to say. Lee will post tomorrow to give an update on my condition. The surgery takes about an hour and a half, so I should be in the recovery room by 9 am. Not sure when Lee will be able to post, since we won't have a laptop at the hospital.
I'm looking forward to getting rid of my hip pain, or at least for trading the current pain in on a new kind of pain. I'm not looking forward to being housebound for so long, but that's just the way it is. I'll be under some serious restrictions for a long time. No crossing the legs or ankles, no reaching across my body, no rotating the right foot in, no bending down, no showering, and no sitting for more than 45 minutes at a time. It's a lot to remember.
I am the first hip surgery of the morning. I sure hope it all goes well.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Last minute preparations, and chairs
I spent today doing last minute shopping to get ready for the surgery, and I've also been working on getting the house set up. The medics at Joint Camp told me to remove or secure all rugs, so I don't trip over them with my crutches when I come home from the hospital. I took care of that with some carpet tape which I hope will hold.
My biggest problem in all the preparations has been seating. After hip replacement, you're not allowed to sit in any kind of low, sinky chair. We're short on chairs in this house to begin with, but the chairs we do have are, of course, low and sinky. I asked the insurance company if they could provide me with a Hip Chair, but they declined. They did offer an adjustable hospital bed, something they for some reason were willing to provide free of charge. But the doctor recommended against the special bed. THR patients are encouraged to get into the swing of normal life as soon as possible, and most people don't have the luxury of an adjustable bed at home. So I'll be going up and down stairs on the crutches from day one, and getting in and out of a regular bed. But back to chairs. I was hoping to have a comfortable armchair to recover in, but didn't have the resources to go out and buy one just for this purpose. I was told a wingback chair would be the best, since it would be tall and stiff, and the seat would not be too deep. Nancy spent the day trying to borrow such a chair on my behalf, but once she did find one, I had to turn it down out of fear our cat would destroy the upholstery with her claws. So I'm still without a good chair. After the surgery, I'll have to keep my hip at an angle no smaller than 90 degrees, and keep both feet on the floor, with my knees lower than my hips, whenever I am sitting. I will not be allowed to cross my legs or ankles. The correct chair is a critical piece of equipment if I'm to be comfortable. Seems like I should have arranged all this weeks ago rather than procrastinate and think it would all work itself out. The chair situation is one of my major stressors at the moment.
Other major stress involves the kids, but I'm telling myself it will all be fine. My sister-in-law is coming tomorrow to stay for a few days, and that will be a life saver. She'll be taking care of the kids while Lee is with me at the hospital, and I believe she's going to stick around until the day I come home. If my mother were alive, she'd have come to spend the whole summer with me. We would have driven each other crazy, but it would have been wonderful. Although I don't have family support in the area, I do have good friends. Nancy has been organizing everybody, and arranging volunteers to deliver meals to us, help with grocery shopping, and generally just be there. She's been critical. In fact, she's on her way over right now, bringing two chairs for my seating pleasure.
My biggest problem in all the preparations has been seating. After hip replacement, you're not allowed to sit in any kind of low, sinky chair. We're short on chairs in this house to begin with, but the chairs we do have are, of course, low and sinky. I asked the insurance company if they could provide me with a Hip Chair, but they declined. They did offer an adjustable hospital bed, something they for some reason were willing to provide free of charge. But the doctor recommended against the special bed. THR patients are encouraged to get into the swing of normal life as soon as possible, and most people don't have the luxury of an adjustable bed at home. So I'll be going up and down stairs on the crutches from day one, and getting in and out of a regular bed. But back to chairs. I was hoping to have a comfortable armchair to recover in, but didn't have the resources to go out and buy one just for this purpose. I was told a wingback chair would be the best, since it would be tall and stiff, and the seat would not be too deep. Nancy spent the day trying to borrow such a chair on my behalf, but once she did find one, I had to turn it down out of fear our cat would destroy the upholstery with her claws. So I'm still without a good chair. After the surgery, I'll have to keep my hip at an angle no smaller than 90 degrees, and keep both feet on the floor, with my knees lower than my hips, whenever I am sitting. I will not be allowed to cross my legs or ankles. The correct chair is a critical piece of equipment if I'm to be comfortable. Seems like I should have arranged all this weeks ago rather than procrastinate and think it would all work itself out. The chair situation is one of my major stressors at the moment.
Other major stress involves the kids, but I'm telling myself it will all be fine. My sister-in-law is coming tomorrow to stay for a few days, and that will be a life saver. She'll be taking care of the kids while Lee is with me at the hospital, and I believe she's going to stick around until the day I come home. If my mother were alive, she'd have come to spend the whole summer with me. We would have driven each other crazy, but it would have been wonderful. Although I don't have family support in the area, I do have good friends. Nancy has been organizing everybody, and arranging volunteers to deliver meals to us, help with grocery shopping, and generally just be there. She's been critical. In fact, she's on her way over right now, bringing two chairs for my seating pleasure.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Total hip replacement set for June 26
In the summer of 2006, I was diagnosed with "early arthritis" in my right hip. Not too shocking, considering I'd been limping for several months before the X-rays and MRI confirmed the problem. What was shocking was the rate at which the arthritis progressed. Within nine months of the original diagnosis, the arthritis got worse and my mobility was severely compromised. As a result, I will be having a total hip replacement--THR--of my right hip on Tuesday, June 26, 2007.
Q. What's worse than being 41-years-old and having two children under the age of four?
A. Being 41-years-old, having two children under the age of four, and needing hip replacement surgery.
I had my first child at age 38 and my second at age 40. This sets me apart from most of the women I know who either had children at a younger age, or who opted not to have children at all. I already feel old in momland, so the THR is adding insult to injury. But I have no choice. I have trouble doing the most basic things--getting up out of a chair, walking, climbing stairs, sleeping--and the arthritis will never go away. THR is the only solution.
I'm terrified about the surgery, but the terror isn't about the needles or the cutting or the long, excruciating recovery. I'm terrified for my two boys. What if something bad happens and I die on the operating table? Once you have children, you realize you have to live a long time. Forever, if possible. Facing major surgery, I can't stop wondering how my boys would survive without a mother. I'm trying to stop thinking about this, but it's hard.
The recovery from THR is long. It will be months before I can get down on the floor to play, bend over to pick up a toy, or carry a 29 pound umpteen-month-old boy up a flight of stairs. I won't be able to drive for at least six weeks, and I'll be on crutches for most (all?) of the summer. Because of all this, I have hired a nanny to care for the kids. She has her work cut out for her.
I decided to blog the hip to help other women--mothers with very young children--who are facing THR. Every minute of every day is going to be an adventure. Wish me luck.
Q. What's worse than being 41-years-old and having two children under the age of four?
A. Being 41-years-old, having two children under the age of four, and needing hip replacement surgery.
I had my first child at age 38 and my second at age 40. This sets me apart from most of the women I know who either had children at a younger age, or who opted not to have children at all. I already feel old in momland, so the THR is adding insult to injury. But I have no choice. I have trouble doing the most basic things--getting up out of a chair, walking, climbing stairs, sleeping--and the arthritis will never go away. THR is the only solution.
I'm terrified about the surgery, but the terror isn't about the needles or the cutting or the long, excruciating recovery. I'm terrified for my two boys. What if something bad happens and I die on the operating table? Once you have children, you realize you have to live a long time. Forever, if possible. Facing major surgery, I can't stop wondering how my boys would survive without a mother. I'm trying to stop thinking about this, but it's hard.
The recovery from THR is long. It will be months before I can get down on the floor to play, bend over to pick up a toy, or carry a 29 pound umpteen-month-old boy up a flight of stairs. I won't be able to drive for at least six weeks, and I'll be on crutches for most (all?) of the summer. Because of all this, I have hired a nanny to care for the kids. She has her work cut out for her.
I decided to blog the hip to help other women--mothers with very young children--who are facing THR. Every minute of every day is going to be an adventure. Wish me luck.
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