Hippily Ever After

DANCING GIRL

Yes, sports fans, it’s true. I took my new hip to a contradance two nights ago, and it works. I can dance. In fact, I alternated dance one, sit one out, all night long, which I haven’t been able to do in a long, long, long time. 

 
I did it without pain. This is amazing! The absence of pain is like a miracle come true. My old hip was only painful when I made it move. Sitting  still was pretty darn comfortable. So for the last few years, I have done a whole lot more sitting, and almost no dancing.  What a drag! 

 
A fellow contra dancer asked me on Facebook how it felt to dance again. I responded that it felt powerful and gratifying. The absence of pain was simply astonishing. My greatest difficulty was the lack of stamina….I was red-faced and panting after each dance, and very ready to sit for a bit. But I was right back up for the next one. 

I was sure I’d pay for it the next day, but that was not the case. No extra stiffness or soreness. Still able to walk and move and feel comfortable. Contradance world; I have returned! 

I am also pleased to report that I’ve dropped the Tramadol from my med routine entirely, and I seem to be down to taking just Tylenol three times a day. I’m hoping I can cut that down and out in the very near future as well. 

To be pain-free and drug-free….I wasn’t sure I believed it could really happen.  But it is happening and what a gift it is. 

 

WHY? WHY NOT?

First, the medical update. My most recent check-up involved xrays, which show that all is well with my new hardware. ALL restrictions have been lifted….I can cross my legs, take a bath, and generally do anything I want except run and jump. It is fortunate that I do not aspire to be the Double Dutch Champion on the senior circuit. 

Someone asked me recently if I’m really going to keep this blog going for a full year, since I’m pretty well recovered already. Hmm….sure. There’s more to come on the recovery track….the first 6 weeks is just the beginning. I’m sure readers will want to know how my return to the dance floor progresses. And don’t you all want to know who wins in the Grandmother/Granddaughter Staircase Race? There is still the mystery of whether my other hip will defy the xray evidence and remain pain-free, or if another replacement is in my nearer future. 

Plus, I’m still on a regular regimen of pain meds…..tramadol and Tylenol. Readers will want to know if I have to do a stint in the Betty Ford Clinic in order to break my dependency. 

But the most important reason to continue this blog is that I never know what will come out of my brain while I’m writing, and sometimes the most extraordinary thoughts emerge into the universe. I’m a believer that if you put the questions out there, the answers will come. Make your wishes known so the wish-fulfillment elves can get to work.

 
I recently mentioned my concern with what comes next in my life. My new hip makes me feel like a whole new chapter should accompany it. I casually mentioned in that post that I had been looking at the Lansing Community College catalog  to see if anything sparked an interest. Something did. In fact, I fanned the little spark and it blew up into a roaring blaze. It turns out that I have a burning desire to become certified as a paralegal. 

Paralegal training? Really? Where on earth did that come from? Maybe it comes from the wishful thinking of 40 years ago, when I was seriously interested in law school. But there were no law schools in Lansing at that time. I was a young wife, with a BA and a teaching certificate and no real desire to teach. I am quite certain that if Cooley Law School existed at that time, I would have given it a whirl. Would it have been a good fit? I will never know.

Fast forward to now. Why does paralegal training feel like it could be a good fit? 

1. I like taking classes. I like learning.

2. I still have an interest in law.

3. I don’t need a new career.  But a part-time job? Sure. Or a fascinating volunteer experience? Definitely. 

4. If I love the classes, great. If I don’t, then at least I found out. 

Really, why not?

So, I’m enrolled for two classes this summer. I’m terribly excited to be a student again. I have my textbooks, my parking pass, my ID card, and several freshly sharpened pencils and new notebooks.

 
I do hope my instructors won’t mind if I knit. 

SHOE BLUES

Recovery from anything is rarely a straight line. Ever had a broken heart? Remember the ups and downs? The numbness? The feelings of despair? Surgery isn’t a whole lot different. Right now, I’m having a down. I wish it were numb….instead there’s a lot more pain. Despair….that would be way melodramatic, but I’m certainly not a happy camper today.

 
It all started Saturday afternoon. I had lunch with my mom, and then accompanied her for shopping. My mom doesn’t get out much, and she still gets pleasure from shopping, so when we go out to lunch, Lynn and I often take her to the grocery store, or to  a mall store. Last year, we took her to Penneys, and lost her. It was getting to be a tense 45 minutes or so until she finally surfaced in the lost and found.

 
This weekend the quest was for shoes. She wanted to go to Payless because they had advertised on TV exactly the kind of shoe she wanted, for only $9.99. I reminded her that Payless has low prices because they provide no customer service. No one would bring shoes to her and help her get them on and off her feet. She would have to sit on a low bench. I cautioned her that I could not bend over and help her either. Nonetheless, she was determined to buy those $9.99 shoes. More than one pair….a whole wardrobe of $9.99 shoes.

 
I’ve been feeling invincible. Strong. Free of my limp. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Able to stand on my own two feet for increasingly longer periods of time. How long? Hmm…..how could I know unless I tried?

To begin with, there were only two pairs of shoes that were $9.99. The rest were $19.99, and $25.99, and $29.99.…you get the picture. The big come-on is BOGO for half-price. Still….not a bad deal. I generally feel you get what you pay for when it comes to shoes, but my mom doesn’t need to walk a 5K in her shoes. She just needs to get to and from the dining room; to and from the car; to and from the bathroom. We had success right away; she liked the first pair she tried on. It didn’t take too much longer to find a second pair. If we had stopped then, it would have been fine for me. 

But she was having fun. And she wanted two more pairs. Remember that lack of customer service? I was the gofer. Remember that low bench to sit on? She was sitting….I was standing.  Remember that I’ve only tested out standing for 10 minutes at a stretch, maybe 15 since surgery. By half an hour, I was aware that I had hit a point where I needed to get off my feet. If I had simply said so, Mom would have understood completely. I blame myself entirely….I knew she was enjoying herself and I didn’t want to spoil it. So I would strain a little. An extra nap and I’d be fine later. 

Except I wasn’t fine later. It’s now Monday and I’m still not fine. Whatever I strained after the 45 minutes or more on my feet is still strained. I’m doubling up the pain meds and taking them more often, but it still hurts and I’m limping again.  Hello cane. 

It does not help that I’m having intense upper arm/neck/shoulder pain as well. That’s probably due to knitting….I started a new project yesterday and my body apparently is not happy about it. But it means that I am uncomfortable sitting, standing, lying down. Whine whine whine. 

This still beats a broken heart though.  

 

FORKS IN THE ROAD

So where is my path meandering to? Where am I headed for the next part of my life? What do I want out of the rest of my life? It would be a lot easier if I had a dream, a passion, something I’ve always wished I could do if I only had the time, and now I have the time, so why aren’t I finally doing it?

Yes, of course, I’ve always wanted to travel. I’ve been fortunate. I’ve already had a good amount of travel in my life. I’ve been all over the United States. I’ve been to foreign countries….some for a good visit; some just barely skimmed; but I can lay claim to a reasonable number. Yes, of course, I want to travel more. There are still plenty of places I’d love to go. But I also know that at the end of the day, I want to be back at home. Travel is fun and exciting and a great break from routine, but it’s a pasttime…it’s not an avocation. 

I need a bucket list, but really, I don’t want to skydive or bungee jump or zip down lines. I don’t want to go on an archeological dig, or spend time in an ashram in India or join the Peace Corps. I don’t want to start my own non-profit corporation, and I don’t want to work on anyone’s political campaign (although I did entertain brief fantasies when I still believed that Obama could actually make a difference), and I have no desire to attend Woodstock or the Burning Man thing. 

I don’t want to ride a bike through Italy ( I certainly wouldn’t mind a gondola ride), and I don’t want to hike the entire Appalachian Trail starting in Maine and ending in Georgia. I don’t want to take a road trip down Route 66. I don’t want a dog, or a cat, or a ferret. I don’t want to save whales or tsetse flies or spotted anythings.

 
I do want to take my grandchildren to Disneyworld.

 
I don’t want to raise sheep or llamas or alpacas. I don’t want to buy an old farmhouse and fix it up. I don’t want to sail around the anything. I don’t want to move to Tuscany or Paris or Santa Fe. I don’t want to learn how to cook with truffles. 

I would still like to write a possibly readable novel. Or write magazine articles. Or write memoirs that will scandalize my children and grandchildren but will make my great-great-greats giggle and wish they knew me. 

I do think sometimes about going back to school. Not for a new career; just because I like taking classes. I like learning. I was looking at the paralegal program at LCC the other day. Just thinking. 

I’d still like a recumbent tricycle. I still want to go contra dancing in St. Croix. I drool over the travel catalogs that describe cruises to Alaska and tours to Costa Rica. I still want to be thin. I’ll settle for thinner. Really, I’ll settle for healthy and fit, whatever that is. 

I want to be a good daughter while I still am lucky enough to have my mom. I want to be a good mother, and oh my goodness, I want my daughters-in-law to never have to complain about me to their husbands! I want to cherish my grandkids and be cherished by them. I want the significant man in my life to continue to think I’m beautiful.  I want my kids to still ask for my advice now and then, and once in a while, I want them to actually follow that advice. 

I really want the life I have right now. I just want it to be even more, even fuller, even richer. I don’t want to just fill my time; I want fulfilling time. 

I guess I’ve gotten way off the original topic of my hip replacement.  It seems a natural seque to me, and I am opting to let my writing voice guide me. But in case a reader is still hungering for condition updates, I will just mention that today I did two separate walks of half a mile each. If I was limping, I couldn’t tell. The cane was left at home. 

DRIFTWOOD

And now, I find myself asking myself….what now? What comes next? 

When I retired 5 years ago (getting close to 6 years!), what I wanted was change from my working life. After so many years of regimentation, of living my working life according to the clock and the bell, of having to be a certain place at a certain time prepared to do a certain thing, I was relishing the prospect of no limits. No routines. Do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. 

Sounds good. I drifted through the first summer, which didn’t count anyway. It was in the fall, when everyone else in the world went back to school, that I finally felt retired. I kicked it off with a great traveling experience to the Pacific Northwest with a couple of friends.  And then I proceeded to create a routine for myself. I started a yoga class. I joined Curves. I started going to a regular Wednesday afternoon knitting group. I began working parttime at a yarn shop. I started a direct sales business in scrapbooking. 

I became a grandmother, and reveled in the occasional babysitting I could do. I did some more travel. 

It turned out that I’m no good at total freedom. Left with nothing planned, I do nothing. I was happiest on my scheduled days; totally at loose ends on loose days. 

Over the last year or so, I’ve kept to my routine of three weekly knitting groups….Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I added volunteer work at the hospital. I started a different direct sales business selling jewelry. I traveled to see children and grandchildren.  I worked around my increasing mobility issues by doing fewer things that required mobility.

It hasn’t been a bad retirement at all. Mostly I am happy. But there is some inner fulfillment not being met. I like to be useful. I like to be productive. I like to problem-solve. I like to feel in the middle of things that are happening.  I like to be around people. At the same time, I still don’t want to set a clock in the morning. I don’t want to make commitments that I can’t easily put off. I don’t want to be regimented.

 
In many ways, I feel like this is a second retirement beginning. When I am done healing,  I will be much freer to do as I please. Now I have to figure out what really pleases me. I am still drifting, and that doesn’t feel right anymore. 

AROUND THE CURVE

At my three week check up a few days ago, the PA said I was way ahead of the curve. Well, I know that and I’m glad of it, but it is a surprise to me that it worked out this way. I had high expectations, but I’ve completely surpassed many of them.

 
I imagined at three weeks, I would still have a lot of incision pain, and I would still be hitting the pain meds pretty heavily. In reality,  I have incision discomfort, and a small amount of pain meds keeps that under good control. I get some stiffness and soreness, and if I really overdo, I get an uncomfortable burning sensation.

 
I hoped at three weeks I could maybe start driving, although it seemed more realistic to assume four weeks. In reality, I started short distances at two weeks, and now I can bop all over town without difficulty.
I imagined that I would have finished my jigsaw puzzle during the first week home. In reality, I’ve barely touched the thing….don’t know why I bought it in the first place. 

I realized shortly after surgery, that even if I felt well enough, I would be limited in where I could go because of the need for a toilet lift. While some toilets are higher or lower than others, not everyplace has the really higher seat that I needed. I started devising a plan involving a large plastic bag and nonchalantly carrying mine with me. As it turned out, I didn’t need to. About the time I started driving,  I also started getting up from lower and lower surfaces. Only once did I encounter a toilet that was a bit of a strain to navigate off of. Please don’t tell my doctor any of this.

I didn’t know what to picture in terms of walking and whether I’d still have a limp or no limp; pain or no pain. In reality, when I’m well rested and properly medicated, I have almost no limp and no pain. Tired….stretching out the pain med cycle….it goes south accordingly. Every day, I get stronger and healing occurs, so I am now picturing that within a month or so, I will appear completely able-bodied, at least to the untrained eye. Full healing and recovery takes a full year, but for practical matters along the way, I’ll be completely functional. 

I thought by now I’d have reread the first two books of the Outlander series, and the following ones that I’ve never read. Instead….haven’t started them. I read a couple really bad awful political thrillers, and now I’m slogging my way through the next book club book. My attention span is about 4 pages long, which is why I should be reading the Outlanders series instead. Maybe it’s time to cave in and try the Twilight books...the series about vampires that makes intelligent grown women react with incoherent sighs. I have fought it off successfully up till now, but I really need a book to get lost in. So I should at least give it a try. I can’t believe I just said that. 

I thought I’d have a new spring/summer sweater just about ready to wear. Instead, that 4 page long attention span translates to a 4 row attention span when knitting. My brain is muddled. I started that new sweater four different times, and now the sweater is in time out. My fallback project is a repeat of the Basketweave sweater I already knit in red. This time it’s in purple. No matter…..either way I end up with a lovely new hand knit. 

I thought….I thought…I thought. The truth is, I keep thinking. I’m still mending; there’s no rush. There is so much happening under the surface that I can’t see, but it all seems to be good. I feel a need for a new sense of purposefulness, but I also feel a need to just enjoy the journey. Can’t these be mutually compatible goals? 

 

PUSHING BOUNDARIES

I’m 16 days post-op….not even three weeks. I had high expectations for my recovery, but I’ve surpassed them. I’m sure a lot of credit must go to my surgeon. His “minimally invasive” approach, whatever that actually means, left me quite functional since the day after surgery.

 
Today I went to my Thursday morning knitting group. Then I bagged an hour of physical therapy. I stopped in at the library. Came home and took a nap. This evening I went grocery shopping. It’s a normal full day…I could do something else right now if I wanted to.

 
I’m on minimal pain meds….a vicodin at night still mostly to make sure I sleep….and I do! One tramadol and a Celebrex in the morning to take the edge off. A couple of Tylenol in the afternoon and evening. That’s it. I’ll probably try dropping the vicodin next week.

 
I did a no-no today. I used the restroom at Biggbys, which is NOT a handicapped stall and doesn’t have a higher than usual toilet. Supposedly this breaks the 90 degree rule, which actually I’ve broken a number of times inadvertently. This is the first time I did it intentionally.  The earth did not open and swallow me up. Lightning bolts did not fly down from the sky. I did not dislocate my hip. 

I don’t know if my doctor would fire me for this. I don’t know if he would demand that I give back my new hip since I don’t deserve it. I will be seeing the PA on Monday for my three-week check-up, and I don’t know if I will even mention it. I’m not saying I was right to do this, but I’m not saying I was wrong either. The “restrictions” are generally given to all patients, regardless of individual circumstances. They make perfectly good sense, and in many cases are very necessary. I could not have done this the first week out, but it was becoming very clear during the second week that six weeks of these restrictions are probably not necessary in my case. 

I’m sure there are many people who need the restrictions even longer. Everyone is different. Doctors can’t observe us all daily, so some standardization is logical. And there is the CYA defense…..if I do dislocate my hip next week, it won’t be the surgeon’s fault, will it?

 
At any rate, here I am….using the best common sense I can muster up. I’m getting plenty of rest; nothing I do is causing me pain; if I break the rules it’s very sparingly. I seem to be blessed with a body that heals quickly and efficiently. Every day is a new day, and I can accomplish new things. How can this be wrong?

 

GETTING PHYSICAL

Today was a physical therapy day. It’s an interesting thing, physical therapy. When I first started researching hip replacements, it seemed like every article I read put a heavy emphasis on the importance of PT for a good recovery. When I was ready to see my surgeon and schedule a date, I already knew that he didn’t prescribe pt for his hip patients. 

I was concerned about this. Every medical professional who I spoke to for surgeon recommendations put this doctor at the top. I have an acquaintance who has had both hips done by this same doctor in the past year, and he has only good things to say. Did he get pt? No. Did it hurt him not to have it? Can’t see how it has. 

I decided that I would cross the pt bridge later. If necessary, I knew my osteopath would order it for me. If the exercises the surgeon sent me home with worked, then so much the better.

As it turned out, I never kept that appointment, for unrelated reasons. And then I went to a talk given by that surgeon’s partner. I was suitably impressed with what he had to say, and even better…he supported pt. So I scheduled with him and haven’t looked back. 

But I am seriously wondering about the whole pt debate, and I’m getting a better understanding of both sides.  Did you know that in England, pt is never routinely prescribed? Hip and knee patients go home with a set of exercises to do on their own. And they all recover just fine, unless there are totally unrelated problems that interfere with a successful replacement. 

Here in the United States, we have made pt an important and integral part of any movement disorder. I’m sure there are plenty of horror stories about how pt made things worse instead of better. What should help in theory is still dependent on the individual therapist to administer just the right way, in just the right amounts. It is hardly an exact science, but neither is it quackery or a waste of time. 

I wanted pt for this surgery. I knew that if I went home with a list of exercises, I would dutifully perform those exercises exactly the way my instructions told me too. Not a rep less. Not a rep more. If my form was off a little, I wouldn’t know. If something hurt, I would slack off on that exercise. I might skip a day here or there. And here. And there. 

Last week, I had pt three times. On Tuesday, they did an initial evaluation, and then ran through various exercises for me to do at home. On Thursday, I had a full session….50 minutes of my exercises; 30 reps each. Except the leg lifts….they are the hardest thing for me; I could only reach 15. I came home on Thursday feeling great. Energized. I woke up on Friday still feeling great. This recovery stuff was piece of cake. Then I went to pt again. 

Holy cow! Was it because I did it two days in a row? Was it because it was too much too soon? Was it too many reps? Was 50 minutes at a time too much? By Friday evening I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Both legs hurt. Muscles felt shredded. Pain was at the highest level since surgery. 

Saturday wasn’t much better. On Sunday, most of the pain had backed off, and I could at least take some longer walks. Monday was one of those lethargic, sluggish, sleepy days….I did a few of my exercises, without much enthusiasm.

However, today I woke feeling fine. Full of energy. Little pain. I went to pt, and let my therapist know how concerned I was, and that I felt we needed to back off the intensity a bit. He was very receptive, and then we did my session. I knocked off my 30 leg lifts even though I kept claiming I was not going to even try that many. Go figure. It’s now evening, and I still feel fine. 

So did pt last week hurt me? Set me back? I’m doing so well….would I be this far along if hadn’t been having outside pt? Unanswerable questions. But certainly important ones to stay attuned to.  

THE IMPATIENT PATIENT

Two weeks done. Time flies!

Done with the anti-coagulant injections. I’m glad to be done with them, but they were easy and painless to do. Ditto the compression stockings. 

I break my restrictions all the time, quite unintentionally. I will suddenly realize that my ankles are crossed. It feels very natural and comfortable. I reach across my body without thinking. Nothing hurts to remind me that I shouldn’t. I can’t bend down to pick something up from the floor, but I can bend over much further than I expected. I think I’m probably not supposed to do that either. Nothing bad has happened as a result, but I keep waiting for the boogy man to jump out at me. It does make me wonder if I could safely break a few more restrictions….like if I could use a regular toilet without a lift. 

I’d really like to know when I can start sleeping on my side (the non hr side). Being on my back hasn’t been too bad….but it just isn’t natural either. 

I had knitting friends over all weekend. I didn’t “do” anything. But I was deeply and profoundly tired. In bed for the night long before midnight...this is so not me!

I am up to walking one-quarter mile at a time.  No pain in the hip area at all. I still experience stiffness and soreness above the knee. I’ve been experimenting with Tylenol for daytime, but it doesn’t seem to help at all. So I take just one tramadol for the morning and one for the afternoon. Seems to work better, but I still have the sleepy factor. 

After a walk, I could nap for a long long time.  And I do. 

I decided to practice getting into and out of the car on the driver’s side. Well, that was easy. Once I was there, I decided to practice moving my foot from the gas pedal to the brake pedal. Well, that wasn’t too hard. So I decided to start the car and drive….just in the parking lot. Moved the car over to a spot near my door. Today I will drive myself less than a mile to physical therapy. Wheels = freedom. 

Overall, pain is minimal even when it’s bad. It’s still less than what I experienced before surgery. I do tire out very easily, even when I’m not doing anything. I have to keep reminding myself that it has only been two weeks; I could very easily overdo it and do some damage to myself.

 
Patience, Grasshopper. 

A WORD IN TIME

I hardly know what to do with myself. I planned for a worst-case scenario of six weeks of down-time, just in case it actually took that long to get sprung. Realistically, I figured 4 weeks was a very reasonable likelihood. I have a jigsaw puzzle started, and a quilted bag ready to sew, and of course, half a dozen knitting projects in various stages. I have a shelf of books to read, and if I get really ambitious I have seven years worth of knitting magazines to cull through. 

Mostly what I’ve done for the last ten days is play Scrabble online with various friends. I drop whatever I’m doing when the alert comes through, and I can get lost for long minutes trying out various unlikely combinations of letters that sometimes turn out to be real words. This has been my connection to the real world. Love it!

Mostly what I’ve done for the last ten days is play Scrabble and sleep. Loads of guilt-free napping. Pop a pain pill, get through PT, and sleep. And play Scrabble. 

It’s been working. My recovery is progressing super fast, and I think I might realistically be driving by the end of next week. Yay! The bigger problem is that I still can’t break the 90 degree rule, so I can’t use most bathrooms without a toilet lift. The one I’m using is plastic, and it’s bulky, but I have a big plastic bag to schlep it in, so I will. Tacky, but functional. I’m getting very bored with myself. But not with Scrabble.