Class Dismissed

Had my 6 week check up with Dr. B today. As usual, I was the youngest person waiting for X-rays, but once into Dr. Buly's waiting area I saw a woman about my age on crutches. I wanted to flash her the secret hip dysplasia gang sign, but I'm not sure there is one. Someone needs to come up with that. (Lauren)

In any event, I am doing really, really well. It was a refreshing change to waltz into his office, high-five his assistant (ok not exactly, but we had a high-spirited exchange) put on the snazzy shorts, let him wiggle my leg around and get the surgeon's equivalent of the locker room "get outta here!" ass-smack. It felt like I aced the final of this crazy 2 year class in myself. Or to continue with my vaguely sporty theme, like I hit it out of the park with no outs left and the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth. (I like baseball.)

Of course there are no guarantees that other things won't come up, and as Dr. B reminded me, not everything wrong with my hip was addressed. However. Right now, I feel sound of mind and body, and take great pleasure in that.

Keep it Steppin'

Did 2 1/2 miles of the AIDS walk yesterday, with wonderful Lauren on hand in case I needed a fireman's lift, which as it turned out I did not. Feeling good today, not in any pain, and as always that feels like a gift, like stolen time. I have my 6 week check up with Dr. B next week, so we'll find out if the holes have filled in.

Mobile

Walked solo today. Hard, but good. First yoga class back tomorrow. We'll see how that goes. I'm sure there will be many complaints from various areas...

P.S.

[Because the scar pic was not yet at a scroll down spot, and I don't want to force people to inadvertently see something they're not expecting, especially over breakfast]

But also - heard today that Metal Plate, while still currently serving time at HSS, will shortly be up before the parole board. Fingers crossed she doesn't do anything stupid like yell, "Dammit, I'm Swiss! Let me out of here!" and mess it all up for the rest of us.

XXX Scar Pics Redux

As always, feel free to avert your eyes from this one.

It still looks a little gnarly, but overall is doing well.

One more week on the cane. Hallelujah.

OK, enough stalling:



Key:

Two white dots on upper left corner - arthroscopy from last year.

Big red blotch - site of former never-ending blister.

Long white scar - original incision.

And then you can see how starting slightly in from the left and extending about 2/3 of the way along the original incision is the latest one. For 3 weeks post-op, I think it looks pretty good.

Free

I've been thinking: maybe the reason Dr. Buly didn't prescribe any PT for me this time around is because I don't need any. Maybe? I've been at the gym three days now riding the bike and keeping my leg as strong as I can, and today for the first time I got back on my yoga mat. BLISS. I started laughing because it made me so happy to be there. It's a lot of rolling around on the floor and not much else, but I'll take what I can.

And Gentle Reader, lest you think I've forgotten you, fret not. I know I owe you a picture. I actually took some this morning, but it still looks like someone mugged my leg. You'll have to wait, because I can't bring myself to post it yet (although I am more than happy to drop trou for anyone that comes over, so...).

Overall it feels so good to have the metal out of me. I feel like my leg's been liberated. There's a freedom in it, an independence that I've been missing. Something about it coming out is a signal to my mind and my body that I don't need it anymore, that I'm strong enough without it.

Gym Haiku

Spring! Fifteen minutes
On the stationary bike.
Leg is glad. Then nap.

Yeah.

Mm hmm.

Post-post

Didn't mean to make so many people nervous with that last post. I am fine. Fever/chills are gone, although I'm still taking it easy. Mostly couch-surfing, eating brownies, and watching old episodes of Lost. Starting to get a little stir-crazy with inactivity, as well as itchy along the incision, which is a good sign. In addition, I ingested my last Vicodin yesterday morning and haven't felt the need for another. So meddling along as I should be, with just a brief trip down funk lane.

Headed Up the River With A Boat and No Paddle

(and they got me on lockdown)

Laying in bed last night, heart racing, face burning up, body shivering. Song lyrics on repeat in my head (WHY does that always happen when you're not feeling good? And it's never a song you really like).

Two possibilities:

1. Meds are doing a number on me. Highly possible. Vicodin's no joke. Also still working all the crap out of my system from the hospital.

2. I'm overdoing it. Also highly possible, since I've been both to the movies and the theater within a week of having surgery. Hey, I never said I was a role model.

So as a consequence, I'm on lockdown until the inmates stop rioting. I think their demands are better met when I stop trying to pretend like someone didn't just cut a hole in my leg last week.

Good - Bad - Ugly

Good:

- No more metal in me YAY!
- Supermom is back in full effect. I get so spoiled when she's here.
- I can walk around the block and a little more. (with crutches, obvi)
- Knee and hip both still bend a lot.
- Don't need a lot of Vicodin - taking 250mg three or four times a day (this time last year, 1500mg/3x day)
- Sun is shining
- Birds are singing
- Trees are treeing

Bad:

- Occasionally, I am super aware of the sensation of several large bags of rice tied around my upper thigh and pulling on my leg in a heavy and uncomfortable way.
- Other sensations include surface pain (sharp), deeper pain (throbbing) and midway pain (sharp throbbing). I could probably up the meds, but am wary of the detox factor to come. None of it is enough to cause alarm and all retreat soon after they rear up.

Ugly:

- Me, with pants off. The area looks like someone whacked me with a baseball bat and then covered it with steri strips.
- Me, with pants on. I have phenomenal, stop-you-in-your-tracks booty, but only on the one side.
- Both are temporary, and therefore more funny than ugly.

Metal:

- Has been formally requested via fax. However, I am slightly nervous that it may have been discarded already (apparently, you're supposed to request it ahead of time, FYI Laura et al). We shall see.

The Grand Unveiling

Will have to wait, because I took the big bandage off this morning, and it's a little gruesome under there. Nothing that my tough hip sisters would flinch at, but a little too much dried blood and blister action to take an actual picture of. Once the steri-strips 'fall' off (not that I would ever do anything like play with the edges or peel them off. What kind of person do you take me for?) I'll take a picture and post it.

Dr. Buly claimed he only went in about half of the original 7 inch scar, but the steri-strips cover at least 5 inches of it. So either the strips are covering more than the incision, or he manipulated the truth. Or the truth shifted. I'm not really complaining. I'm not complaining at all actually, because for day 3 after surgery I feel really freaking good. Yesterday I only took 2 Vicodin, and today I've yet to take any. Leg is weakish and the surrounding muscles feel really tight, but so much stronger than it was this time last time. I'm tired by the end of the day, but big deal. If I can get off the Vicodin completely, I can get my drink on again. That's some serious motivation.

Done and Done

Well, that was easy. I mean, relatively speaking.

In at 8.30am, scrubbed vigorously by the nurse and asked by the usual suspects what my name was and what I was having done, de-metaled (once again, no recollection past the anesthesiologist's "I'm giving you a sedative," in the OR) and in recovery by 1pm. Was pretty sleepy/wasted but told I could possibly go home that day if I felt up to it. Never one to back down from a challenge, I decided I would feel up to it, even though it made my mom's forehead crinkle. By 3pm I was much more alert, so a PT was summoned to go over crutch walking and stairs (just like James Brown, get up on the good foot). Nurse took the epidural out of my spine and the IV out of my hand and wheeled me out the door.

Was so glad to sleep in my own bed last night, although since I'm not a huge back-sleeper I rolled around a little too much and kept waking the beast. It's swollen back to shelf size, but only right where the incision is (which is still deep under wraps) and I have probably 75% range of motion in my leg and hip, which is really exciting (post first surgery, it was about 5%). Lord and Lady Nauseous McHeadache arrived early this morning (don't they know to call first? You'd think their manners would be better) but right now I feel pretty good. The less Vicodin I take, the better the rest of me feels, so finding the balance is my current job. That and eating rice pudding.

As for the metal, it went to pathology... for an autopsy? Don't really know why, but the deal is I call and request it, and it's sent to me. So don't worry, you'll see it soon enough. Once the bandages come off I'll show you my butt too, because I know that view never gets boring. Aw, yeah.

T Minus

Surgery scheduled for 11.30am tomorrow. One hour in recovery, then an overnight at HSS.

I feel blessed to be surrounded by so many angels and I'm so grateful for your calls and texts and well wishes and prayers. And trashy magazines. Won't be posting from the bedside this time as my surrogate poster is currently in Hawaii, but will take copious notes and fill you in on Friday.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Old Friends

Missed you guys!

Amazing

Completely inspiring and worth your 18 minutes:

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/229

Cleared For Takeoff

Had my pre-op day today, and compared to last year's, it was a piece of cake. If this is the trend for the entire experience this time, then hooray I say.

It always strikes me as somewhat ironic and hilarious that HSS is so far east that it's practically falling into the river, in a part of town that's not exactly easy to access by public transport, when the people that need to get there are generally limping or on crutches for various osteo-issues. Couldn't they relocate to midtown or something?

Anyway, saw Dr. Goodman, my internist, who last time proclaimed I was "healthy as a horse," and this time noted that I "was clearly a vegetable eater." I'm not sure exactly what that means, but the good news is no Coumadin (blood thinner), no 5.30am blood donations, no special diet this time. Hooray I say again! Just aspirin morning and night post-op, and I am good to go.

Then to the nurse for blood etc. Not a donation, just to test for... stuff. I don't know. General health stuff. And things. Got my little brown sponge for the special scrub the morning of surgery and sent on my merry way. I had some time so I walked through Central Park on this glorious spring day and looked at all the people and kids and dogs, and the man playing saxophone, and felt good.

Not Fair

I don't know about the rest of you, but sometimes this shit really kicks my ass.

Was practicing at home today, came into downward facing dog, took a deep breath and suddenly found myself on my hands and knees crying. Yoga hasn't made me cry in a long time, and in a way I'm grateful that it still holds the power to tap into something deeper than words. Yoga doesn't let me fake anything.

I had to write the sentence 'my surgery is next week' to someone today and it totally took me by surprise. Not fair, not fair, not fair!

Nope, not fair at all. But if I can let go right into that not-fairness, just settle into the sweet spot, cry when I need to and let it quiet me down, the not fair can be ok.

Remaining Neutral

Was just informed by another FO'er that the metal plate which has so dutifully held me in place for the past year is Swiss made.

So in case you had any doubt, I am a precision instrument with a delightful fondant center.

3 Weeks

It's a strange thing, knowing when you're going under the knife. Like knowing when you're going to be in a car accident. I get to wind down all the things that need winding down - students, classes, responsibilities. But it carries a strange air of ending, and at the same time within that ending the potential of all beginnings. It felt like this last time, like the life of the person before has to come to a close to allow for this new person to emerge. How much of me do I carry through each time? Maybe it seems melodramatic, but I think for anyone who's had something like this there is a deep shift. You're flung face first against the bottom of yourself, the limits of your personality. What are you going to do? I guess you can have this whole experience in a way that's shut off from your soul, and if that's the experience that you're having, more power to you. But I am deeply humbled by the fact that having had one surgery, I have a second in 3 weeks, and it's entirely possible that I may have more in my future. I am humbled by and grateful for this little body that's just doing its best to hold itself together as I fling more challenges at it (and of course, I'm not satisfied with just a body that can walk and talk - oh no - I have to be able to get my foot behind my head and balance on my hands). I am humbled by the fact that I get to have all these experiences at a relatively tender age - questions of breaking down that most don't have to deal with until later in life. I am deeply grateful for every time someone asks me how I'm feeling and really listens to the answer, even when it's not the answer they or I would like, and doesn't change the subject or try to look on the bright side. Let's all sit with this for a while, that there is no perfect solution, that we're all just working to get as good as we can, and let that be ok. I'm not trying to be depressing or morose, and I hope that comes through here. I'm trying to express what it feels like to me to allow exactly where I am to be ok, not to fight or cry about it, and to get quiet enough that it can teach me what it's supposed to be teaching me.