Pix 'n Prose: Hip News

On Thursday July 17, at 8:40 am I had my original, factory-installed right hip replaced with a shiny new titanium/porcelain one. Well, I'm assuming it's shiny. I haven't actually seen it. But porcelain and titanium sound like they would be glossy and gleaming, yes? I guess I could've asked to see it while I was in the operating room waiting for the anesthesia to kick in.

But to be honest, while I was in the OR I was mostly obsessed with not looking at the tools they were going to use, and most definitely not looking for the rotisserie that Steve Carrel mentions when he talks about his hip replacement.

When Max picked me up from UBC Hospital the following afternoon, he wondered if I'd asked to keep my old one. As, like, a souvenir. For show and tell. Or for a crafty artsy thing; like windchimes? Or earrings.

It didn't occur to me.

Anyway, back to the beginning. I started having issues with my hip in 2010, but at the time I didn't know it was a hip thing. It felt like a groin pull. Which sounds like a cool injury caused by some aggressive athletic endeavor. So well-meaning friends offered non-medical advice (deep tissue laser treatment, massage therapy, physio etc) that was mostly unhelpful.

Finally, 14 years later, in Spring 2024, I asked my doctor if I could have xrays taken of the entire area. Turned out it wasn't a sexy groin pull.

My friend, Donna, was having her (second) hip replaced that June (2024) and highly recommended the surgeon who was doing hers. I assumed there would be a two or three year wait list, so I arranged for my GP to forward my xrays and files to the Complex Joint Clint at VGH/UBC. They called me a few days later and were ready to book my surgery for summer 2024.

With Daryl undergoing chemo for Stage 4 lymphoma and Jim booked for prostrate cancer surgery that summer it was absolutely not an option for me to get sliced and diced as well. So I paused the whole project.

I called the Joint Clinic again, in February 2025 and made an appointment to see the surgeon six weeks later. He (Dr. Greidanus) showed me how I was bone-on-bone in that joint and said was an excellent candidate for replacement. I wasn't wasting his time. Or being a baby about discomfort. I cried as he affirmed the amount of pain I'd been experiencing.

I got a call in May, asking if I'd like to have the surgery in June (but because of a weekend with my girls already planned for the first weekend in July, I asked for a mid-July date).

I'm only writing this all down, to let you know, IF YOU NEED YOUR HIP OR KNEE REPLACED, please get your GP to send your xrays to: The Complex Joint Clinic at UBC Hospital, Vancouver. These surgeons teach joint replacement to med students training to become doctors. And the wait time is not a year or two. It's quick like a fox.

I am currently three days post op and struggling with emotions and expectations. (Haha. Sounds like any other normal day in my life these past 18 months.) I didn't think about the pain levels in advance so sometimes the hurt just catches my breath, but not the fun 'he took my breath away' kind of situation. The incision itself burns like a branding rod has seared my skin (ice feels so good on my bum) and the rest of my leg feels swollen and dead. I look at it, (my leg) while lying on my bed, and will it to move, but on it's own it's pretty useless. Clint has been lifting and positioning it for me when I sit on the couch (he carefully lifts it onto the ottoman) or get into bed (he swings it up and over, very gently.) That's something you can't really prepare for... having an adult son tenderly maneuver your red-dyed, written on, bristly, 150 pound, 98 year old right leg. Wasn't he just 3 years old yesterday, happily weed whacking thistles along the side of Billie's Country with his Bups?

Nothing like physical trauma to get you thinking about your past. And your future. And reconsidering all the major life decisions you've ever made. Unless you've got a plan to keep you focused on something other than your owie, recovery is mostly 24 hours of being alone with your thoughts. I predicted I'd want to get lost in a TV series, but surprisingly, nope. Can't seem to care about any characters or their dilemmas. Cook-off shows are too shouty. These are usually my go to for time waste-ing ...But now? Too much fake pressure. (After 5 seasons of Master Chef, I don't think I'll watch the next 5 seasons. Sorry, Gordon Ramsey. I might go back to joining Ewan MacGregor as he travels around the world on his motorcycle. I need to watch kinder, gentler people being in awe of our world.

Right

Back to being three days post op. What can you expect when it's your turn? They'll send you home WAY before you think you're ready to. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, (after getting up for the first time and walking to the doorway of my hospital room and back again with a walker and a tiny perky cheerful young physiotherapist) sobbing. Seven minutes of physio and she deemed me 'ready for discharge'. A nurse came in right after that and asked how quickly my ride would arrive, it was time to go.

My backpack was on the windowsill behind me, how was I going to get it, move it? Underwear? How in the world would I get those on? Using the bathroom? I just felt so alone. It took a LONG while to get myself sorted. When I was dressed and exhausted, an Occupational Therapist came in to see me. "Do you have a shower and commode seat in your bathroom? I see you have a walker. You're all set. You seem to be very resourceful."

Then my nurse came in and gave me some Tylenol and Advil. Told me I was good to go. He could lend me a wheel chair to get to my ride, but someone would have to bring it back up to the ward. My pain had been managed effectively all day, so I probably wouldn't need anything stronger. I reminded him that until that 7 minute physio session, I had not moved my leg in 30 hours. Of course my pain was managed. Nothing hurts if you lie very, very still. Anyway, I asked for something stronger for the 3 hour drive home and the long walk down my condo's hallway. And requested a prescription for something to take the edge off if I needed it. He gave me three days worth of Tramadol but suggested I try not to use it.

I am using it.

Having a ten inch incision that goes through muscle and tendons and is spread wide open so that your old hip can be cut out with a saw before hammering and screwing in a new joint HURTS LIKE HELL. One member of the surgical team came in to sign off and said "hip replacement surgeons need the strength of Thor to hammer that new appliance into place. It's a good thing you're asleep when he pounded yours in. But good news, he didn't break your femur. You've got strong bones." "Also you probably shouldn't watch hip replacement surgeries on Youtube."

Noted.

I will not do that.

DAY 4

It's Monday morning, my new hip has been in my body for four days. I suppose we're getting used to each other, although I'm still a bit traumatized by the violent way it entered me. The incision site still burns, burns, burns, like a line of fire, like a line of fire... but in general, movement is marginally easier.

Clint left this morning, early, to go to work, then back to live his real life in Vancouver. So I managed to get my own breakfast (homemade bran muffin - thanks, Julie), glass of apple juice, a banana, pain pills and a couple vitamins. In a few minutes, when those meds kick in, I'll clean up, then do my physio exercises, find an icepack in the freezer, and lower myself onto the hard-as-rock extra cushion (thanks, Donna) onto my couch, (for elevation and to ensure I don't exceed a 90% angle on my body/hip). I'll use a long-handled shoe horn to roll my lowered office chair towards me, (to use as an ottoman) then use the sling to lift and swing my right leg onto it. I'll stuff pillows all around me and being physically exhausted, I'll close my eyes for awhile and think. Mostly about how uncomfortable I am, but thoughts about how blessed I am will percolate up to the surface.

I got out of bed at 9. It's almost 11. TWO hours to wash my face, brush my teeth, put on a dress, have breakfast. (I'm making a note of this now, so I can compare start times in a couple weeks.) It feels weird to have no purpose other than dressing, feeding and caring for one's self.

Feeling nervous about being alone tonight, I texted Max, asking him if he could come spend the night. He replied in three seconds, "yea, I can." (Insert emotional crying emoji.)

Will end this blog post, first one in 7 months, with a list of things I'm thankful for:

1. Not that I even worried about it for even a second, but I'm thankful the surgery was successful. I assumed it would be. I totally trusted that the surgeon knew what he was doing. He took science courses in school instead of marketing, so he was educated and experienced in all manner of hacksawing and hammering.

2. I'm grateful for the sacrificial way Clint and Max have been looking after me. From an early morning drop off (be at UBC admitting by 6 am) to a late Friday afternoon pick up (discharged at 4:30 pm to participate in a 3 hour rush-hour-traffic drive back to Langley), to preparing meals and having overnighters in my tiny condo with it's inadequate air conditioning ... I have felt loved and cared for in the most practical of ways.

3. I've noticed this about myself; when I'm in physical distress, I don't pray. It occurred to me yesterday that I hadn't prayed for myself since last Wednesday. Don't know why? Just haven't done it. I'm usually in constant conversation with God, but I guess pain/discomfort/fears override all normal activities. So I'm thankful, thankful, thankful, for all the messages from friends and family who let me know they've been praying for me. I am a lucky woman to be surrounded by so many people who care deeply.

4. My condo is overflowing with medical equipment and it all looks ugly. But I'm so glad it's here. Thank you to friends who've been mauled by surgeons before me and shared their walkers, commodes, ice machines, and handy doodads. I'll be so happy to give every single stinkin piece back.

5. Meals. The way to my heart. Haha. Thanks to friends who've dropped off frozen soups (my love language), stews, muffins, turkey pies, lasagna ... my fridge and heart are overflowing. And thanks, Wendy G for the Skip the Dishes coupon. I'm gonna use it on Thursday.

6. Neighbours. Condo lyfe is mighty fine. I hope no one moves away. It feels good to have someone right across the hall, or up a flight of stairs who can pop in a pinch. I predict it'll be very pinchy in the coming days.

7. Happy news. During this season of sadness (5 deaths in the past 6 weeks; people I care about lost someone they loved deeply. Plus a close friend's husband had a massive stroke, ending up being on life support for three weeks. And another friend's farm had a devastating fire that burnt their barns to the ground. Plus I had shingles (again!) and unrelated, I needed two shots of cortisone deep into the joints of my right shoulder...) May/June were not kind months. So I'm thankful for HAPPY NEWS... Drew and Mackenzie got engaged on Friday July 11 ! I am deliriously happy for them. Having had a glimpse into the tender way they love each other, I am a content momma bear, thrilled they're planning a life together.

8. Beata, the angel who cleans my bathrooms and washes my floors, was here today to ~~help with~~ do some tidying and tell me a story. Her sister-in-law just had joint replacement surgery on Friday in Poland. She went home on Sunday and her daughter said, "seeing you're home anyways, can you look after my son? I need a break fore a couple weeks. I'll drop him off in a few hours." I CAN'T EVEN. I will not complain about my situation ever again. I have it easy compared to others.

9. I am thankful for summer dresses. Can't imagine putting shorts on over this swollen hip.

10. Grateful for anesthesia. This is arguably the greatest invention of all time.

11. Glad that my place has a second bedroom.

12. Thrilled that it hasn't been stupidly hot these past few days.

13. Peace, knowing that I'm in my Creator's hands

14. Grateful that Day 4 is so much better than Day 3.

15. Thankful for refrigeration. Ice, too, is such a great invention.

16. Beds. I particularly love mine these days.

17. Wedge pillows. Whoa. Life changing if you have to sleep on your back.

18. Sons who have smiles on their faces when they cook.

19. Text messages

20. Gently scented hand cream