Almost Eight Months

On April 2, I moved from Chicago to St. Louis. How I managed to do a move of that magnitude - household and goods, etc. - still boggles my mind, especially as I still had some pain, difficulty negotiating steps, and with all the painkiller stuff still exiting my body, was not quite as sharp as I would have liked to have been. However: the packers packed us, the unpackers unpacked us, I managed to buy whatever we needed to make the house hospitable, and over the space of about 2 months, I managed to put EVERYTHING away.

Well, not quite. There's still a bunch of stuff on the bed in the second bedroom, and the kitchen is still not in the best organizational shape. But for the most part, the house works.

I even managed to find a new job - by the end of April I was employed, and by June 1, had started the job.

All these things are good. The one big downside? Living in a city with almost no public transportation, and having to go to work and other things by car, means a far more sedentary lifestyle. My walking has gotten better, as has my ability to go up and down stairs. But: I gained back ALL the weight I'd lost. Every last single solitary pound of it. And boy, I can feel it. The scar sometimes feels like it's straining for dear life. And I've begun to weeble again. It's rather gross. I didn't expect to gain more than 20 pounds in just a few months. But ... here I am.

An acquaintance who also had her hip replaced had a huge complication: her incision came apart, and she wound up having to go for more than a month's rehab in order to get the wound back together. I wake up every morning terrified that THIS will be the day my leg splits open. Oh, the horror.

So ... I've begun to do my hip exercises again. I'd completely stopped exercising, which surprised me - I'm generally a bear about rehab exercises. So, now I"m at them again. I can feel a difference - the legs are getting stronger. There's no place to walk near work, so I'm going to have to figure something out. Here, there's a treadmill, and if I can walk to do some of my chores, that might help.

Oh well. Good news and bad news. I hope there will be less of me to report in the next blog entry. I'm seeing a new doc this week - hope he doesn't collapse in shock at my obesity.

At the four month mark

Yeah, I know. I've been less than diligent about keeping up with this. A little thing called life got in the way: my husband's job in another state is necessitating a move. So I've been working on assembling the details. It's not easy to do when one's still at less than 100%! Hopefully, it will get done with a minimum of horror.

As for me: Several victories. The doc saw me two weeks ago, and said I don't have to come back until December. I'm walking without limping (except when I stand up after sitting for a while). I've given up the raised toilet seat (which REALLY made my husband happy!). I can put on my own socks, normally! Tying or strapping shoes, though, is still a bit of a trial. However, I do find I can bend somewhat, even though I'm not supposed to, so as long as I'm careful, I can generally get the shoes done.

Being able to take walks is an absolute and utter delight. I took a long walk along Lake Michigan, did some photography, and went shopping at a local outlet mall with a friend a few weeks ago. We power-shopped for four hours before my hip started to complain. The last hour was awful - walking back to the car, I had to sit three or four times - but I was delighted to feel like a normal person again!

Moving, though, as well as applying for jobs in my soon to be new home city, means that I have not had the chance to work out or take walks. I spent a lot of time either sitting and making lists, or standing and filing. I'm starting to lose some physical conditioning, which I hate. I force myself to do at least a minimum of the exercises, and that seems to help.

Once I get to my new city, I'm planning to start Bikram Yoga. Yes, some of the poses will be more than I can do, but the woman who answered the phone at the local studio assured me that they could adjust the practice to suit my level of fitness and my movement restrictions.

In the meantime - gotta get back to filing.

I'll check in some time next month.

For those readers who are either recent patients or soon to be patients, please feel free to write! I do check in and am happy to answer any and all questions. Also, it's fun to know I have readers. :)

At the six week mark

Recovery from this operation has been a crazy thing. As I've only got insurance coverage through the end of February, I had to make sure to get all my physical therapy appointments made. So, I've got all 18 booked through the middle of February. Health insurance reform can't come too fast for the likes of me.

Anyway, on to where I'm at: I've been doing my exercises pretty assiduously since the at-home physical therapy stopped the day before Xmas Eve. I've also continued to not use the cane at home, but only when I go out. A few victories: Yesterday, I climbed onto a bus, and managed to get off it. I've also been doing some solo outings: Two trips to my job-hunting support group, one shopping trip with a female friend, and today, a walk after PT up to a grocery store, where I picked up a shopping bag full and WALKED HOME. For the past year, I couldn't even conceive of not taking the bus home from that particular grocery. HUGE victory!

RIght now, I still have all the crazy movement protocols. No crossing the legs, at the ankles or the knees. No twisting the trunk. I keep forgetting about trunk twisting, but am becoming increasingly expert at turning my head all the way around without twisting my body. I showed the PT portions of my full-body stretch, to see what would be OK for me to do. He said that as long as I don't bend down to try to touch my toes, I can do the rest of the stretch. DANG. But I want to keep recovering.

The PT not only increased my reps for the exercises, he also gave me several new ones to do. I know they're good for me, etc., but lord they HURT, and they're BORING. Wish I could figure out a way to make them more interesting. I keep thinking about how I'll be able to clamber up and down stairs, ski down beginner slopes, do Pilates, and go to museums and spend some happy afternoons wandering around, in order to make those boring exercises more palatable. Now that I can take a bus, more of the city is opening up for me.

A discovery: I'm allowed to flop my right knee outward. So I'm practicing that, for the eventuality of being able to put my right foot on my left knee so that I can put on my right sock and shoe. Stairs and the right shoe are my next two big challenges. Occasionally I can get a sock on the right foot if I tuck the foot up behind me and blindly pull on the sock as best I can, using the rug. I did figure out a maneuver for the right sock that involved two spatulas and a pasta grabber, but it really has not worked well. And I'd rather just be able to do it right.

Small news flash: I have a follower! Thank you. I should find out more about the permanence of movement protocols on Monday, after I see the surgeon, and I'll blog about it then.

New Year's Hip

And here we are, on New Year's Day. Recovery continues at a nice clip. Today's Friday. This past Monday, I decided to go caneless in the house. So, to the tune of Pomp and Circumstance, I marched to the umbrella stand and popped the cane in, much to my husband's amusement.

A week earlier, I also got approval to sleep with a pillow between my legs, instead of the splint. So, Big Blue (the splint was a big blue foam rhombus) went down to the recycling room. Bye!

So far, I'm limping, but doing pretty well getting around the house, and doing basics. I can stand without pan and do my whole maquillage, and cook dinner. I've also mastered getting dressed. Getting a sock on my right foot, however, is still a challenge. Right now it takes a wok spatula, a pair of kitchen tongs, and a rug to get a sock on the foot, if the husband isn't around to help. I'd go sockless except for Chicago winters - temps are in the single digits these days, and if I want to go outside, I'd better be wearing socks if I don't want popsicle toes.

I got signed off of at home physical therapy last week. So far I've been procrastinating about starting offsite PT. I want to go to a facility that has a pool, whereas the husband wants me to go to one that's within walking distance. Since if it were him, he'd insist on the more chichi facility, I'm going to go to that one. It will cost the same, and the facility will refund cab fare, so it's no real biggie, financially.

I am still doing my morning exercises - I think they'll be a feature of my life for a long time. It's a good way to wake up, and my legs definitely feel better after doing the moves, isometrics and lifts.

Onward and upward!

Progress is being made

Just two weeks minus one day since surgery, and I think I'm a bleedin' miracle. I seem to be recovering at warp speed. As of last Friday, the physical therapist cleared me off the walker. Since then, I've been walking with a cane! Slowly, and with pain, of course, but WALKING. Taking actual steps. Yahoo!

The walker has been relegated to mealtime tabletop and work surface as needed. Makes me feel awful silly - the husband dishes out whatever he'd nabbed via takeout, or whatever I've managed to cook/prepare, and brings it to me. Brings back memories of being in a high chair, strangely enough (yes, I do remember), but it's much better than lying on my back and trying to eat from a plate balanced on my belly.

Being back home has definitely had its share of challenges so far. Exercising is difficult, as I don't really want to do it, but I know from past experience that if you don't do your PT, you'll pay for it big time later on. So I slog through all the isometrics before I get out of bed every morning, and work through the rest of the stuff as the day progresses. I forgive myself if I don't get to everything, but I'm realizing now that I've got to be harder on myself if I want to get my whole gait back. Last time I had African dance classes to help ... maybe I'll be able to find something helpful now, given than a choreographer I used to work with a lot now lives here in Chicago!

I've managed to sponge bathe, but so far have not been able to figure out how to wash my hair. It's two weeks now, and my hair looks dull and on the verge of snarling. Makes me unhappy to see it. I'm hoping that once the husband returns this PM, he'll help me tape saran wrap over my wound so that I can shower and wash my hair.

A plus so far, from what I can tell, is that my body fat seems to be reorganizing itself. I've definitely lost weight - I can feel when I lie down that most of my ass has hauled ass, my belly has receded, and the dewlaps over my hipbones are almost history. I don't know if that's all going to show up as weight loss, but it's definitely different! I can look at pix of fashion and feel as if maybe, just maybe, some of those clothes could be a possibility.

Too bad fashion is so ugly these days - all those baby doll dresses and Empire waists make me look even more like breasts on legs than I do generally. Being short-waisted is a fashion curse, and in this age, where good looking tunics are VERY hard to find, I feel even more cursed. Guess I'll have to wait for the cycle to turn yet again.

Overall? I can really see differences, day by day. When I first got home, I'd be up for an hour and then sleeping for three or four. Now, I'm up for a few hours, and then I lie down for a few and take care of stuff, like cleaning out my email boxes, chatting with friends, doing some research, etc. I'm planning to do actual client work today (yeah, I'm procrastinating by blogging right now), so I've got the notes and stuff piled up next to me, to guilt me until I actually nab them and start writing.

Yesterday, Anna, my physical therapist, took me outside for a walk. (Walkies ... walkies...!!!) I thought of my Aunt June, age 70 the first time I met her, with her elegant little toddle and her cane. Did she had a bad hip as well? I wonder if I could acquire a similarly elegant toddle. Right now, my gait feels like a slow, slow amble, with a lot of reliance on the cane. Fortunately, I was able to get to the local Thai restaurant, which is just a block away, and then back to the house. Wednesday, Anna's promised to double the length of the walk.

She also cleared me to lie on my left side and do leg lifts with the right leg. That will be nice - at least I'll be able to snuggle a bit with my husband. I miss that. I don't know why, but he won't snuggle with me right now. It's frustrating. I hope he evolves some more during this process.

I also see the difference in strength and balance, day by day. I've cooked dinner twice so far, have taken over making breakfast for myself, and today even did a bunch of dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. Yesterday the groceries were delivered, and I only needed the husband's help to get roughage into the veggie crisper drawer. The rest, I did on my own. I've also been unloading the dishwasher as needed. The husband is doing the laundry and putting it away (complaining all the while, of course), stacking dishes in the sink, running the dishwasher as needed, and taking out the garbage. Not many more chores than he had when I was able-bodied, but I'll take what I can get.

Across The Great Divide

Well, the deed's been done. I have a new hip.

I was in mondo discomfort for a good part of the week after the dental surgery, so didn't really get to post about the last bits of prep for surgery. Mostly, it consisted of getting off certain meds and supplements, and remembering to start other meds and supplements. I lost my appetite, so the weight loss, as of the morning of surgery, was 27 lbs since Passover.

Anyway, two days before the surgery I had to go off Diclofenac, the big-ass anti-inflammatory that made my anti-pain cocktail work. Without it? OWWW. I had two days of utter agony. I was ready, big time, to have Mr. Right Hip GONE. I managed to order the toilet seat for hip replacement patients (which is quite comfy, considering), and even started a project for a client. Not smart, but gotta keep the work flowing.

So, the surgery: I wound up deciding on a spinal block with a sedative. I was out like a light! Don't even remember the spinal puncture. Next thing I knew, I was in the recovery room, with people coming by and grabbing my feet and asking me to wiggle my toes. I had no feeling at all from the hips down, but they did say the toes were a-wigglin'. Sensation moved down the legs, though, so by that night, my feets were smiling.

The first night, like any first post-surgery night in a hospital, was ridiculous. I think I got awakened every 40 minutes for something: take pills, vital signs, breathing treatment, blood draws ... I don't even remember all the reasons! It got funny after a while. By the morning, I was ready to cover my face with my cpap mask and sleep. But all I had in my stomach was pills, and the nurses knew I needed to eat. So they got me to order food.

The hospital actually makes you order your meals! They don't come automatically. Yeesh. More things to think about. I wound up ordering meat loaf, veggies, lemonade, and orange Jell-O. Not too bad - definitely hospital food, but bland was really all I could deal with. And the restriction on dark leafy greens meant no broccoli. Phoo.

Then the physical therapist came, to help me out of bed and get me walking. Clearly, crutches were not going to do it, so the PT got a walker. I walked to the door, and then to the comfy chair, and I sat for an hour while I ate. Amazed a lot of people that I could stand and walk after less than 24 hours, but that's what it is these days. The hip clicked one, and then felt totally unmoored - completely flipped me out - but turned out all that was normal. Whew.

Next night, my breathing mask broke. The respiratory lady very kindly managed to find me one that will hold me until I got a new mask. In the morning, I called the company, and they arranged to send me a new mask and a new reservoir. Amazing what you can do with cell phones these days!

Two hours later, a new PT came - more the drill sergeant sort. She was not going to put up with any crying or begging from me. I was going to GET UP and WALK and SIT and EAT. Not even water until I was sitting up by myself. Sitting up was agony, but I made it. Much more stomach muscle work now. And I gotta be much more aware of where my limbs are. I even did a walk all the way down the hall and back. Not bad for a gimp!

The occupational therapist didn't show up till late on Friday, by which time it was too late to be discharged. Fortunately, she had some good advice for me, and she also said that I'm quite strong, which will make recovery quicker.

Friday night, I had the world's worst nurse's aide. Can you imagine a nurse's aide grossed out by bedpan work? That's what I wound up with. And she even had the nerve to carp that I was big, implying that it made it problematic to care for me. The nurse on the shift almost had a kitten when she heard, and I wound up being interviewed by the shift supervisor, who had the same reaction. There is some justice in the world for big girls.

Then came Saturday. Checking out. They got me a wheelchair, and I had to tell the guy how to load my legs. He found a cab, and it came to the right side of the street so that I could get in ... but there were no handholds in the back seat! So I had to somehow scoot myself all the way over, and make sure I could hang on tight for the ride home. I told the driver I'd just had my hip replaced, so don't drive fast, and don't take bumps, or I will feel them, and howl, and he won't be happy. Fortunately, he followed my dicta, so the ride back was basically uneventful.

Getting out the cab, though, was going to be my first test. I pulled myself to the door, braced my left foot, grabbed the walker, ducked my head, and ... STOOD UP!!! No falling against the door! No weebling until I had some sort of balance. Oh man ... what a relief!

Now I just have to work on getting all my strength, energy and mobility back.

More later ...

Dental Mess

Nothing like a bunch of unexpected extra puzzle pieces that have to be dropped into place. Monday, my dentist called. "I can't give you dental clearance till you get the root tips on the upper right taken out - you've got abcesses," he said. Ugh. NOW he tells me. So, I called the oral surgeon he recommended, who managed to squeeze me in the next morning at 8 am. I had a houseguest, so I told him to sleep in while I scooted off to root removal land.

First thing his office did, after doing all the intake paperwork, was plonk me inside a panarex - at least I think it's called that. Takes panoramic xrays. I stood there, biting down on a bit of plastic, while the xray machine whished its way around me in a circle. Felt like preparations for NASA or something.

Then, into the examining room. Again, no spit sink. Must be a Chicago thing. The oral surgeon said I had abcesses at the roots of THREE teeth, and I'd better hie over to my dentist and find out what in the bleep is going on, as he only was recommending one set of root tips be nabbed. So, they made me a print of the xray, which I trotted over to my dentist's office. He took a look, and said, yeah, you need three out. Turns out I've had the abcesses for over two years, but because no big surgery was forthcoming, there was no need to deal with them. Ugh and double ugh.

So ... back to the oral surgeon. And out came root tips for three back teeth - my pathetic excuse for a wisdom tooth, and the two top second molars. My mouth is tiny anyway, so I think I can do without them, but boy, it feels weird. The oral surgeon also said one abcess had moved into my sinuses, which explains the weird filled feeling I've had on one side of my head, and probably explains the leakage in my ear I was having earlier this year. I suspect all will improve, with the extractions and the antibiotic.

I spent most of yesterday with, of all things, tea bags in my mouth. Tannic acid is known to stanch bleeding (not staunch - that misusage drives me bonkers), so as the bleeding hadn't stopped after 2 hours, in went the tea bags. I think I was sounding like Marlon Brando in The Godfather, trying to talk around those things. My houseguest said I looked like a chipmunk. I'm glad he didn't try to take any pictures!