Walking - slowly - toward a new life

Three weeks ago today, very early in the morning, I checked into the hospital for hip replacement surgery. The surgery, which took about two and a half hours, was routine. I elected a spinal anaesthetic and was awake throughout. The surgical team was discussing the NFL playoffs as it went about its work. I thought about contributing, but decided against it. I couldn’t see or feel anything, but I could hear everything. It was pretty noisy. After awhile I was humming “John Henry” to myself.

The brute part of the surgery was all post-op. Four days in the hospital, a round of in-patient physical and occupational therapy, then home, where my headquarters became my recliner in the living room. I was prepared for prolonged and intense discomfort and was surprised when it was minimal.

Just going home was heaven. But I couldn’t do anything, other than sit, read, watch television, go on my walker to the bathroom, and do my exercises. I couldn’t carry anything. Karen had to wait on me hand, foot and hip.

I could feel myself getting better every day. The after-effects of the spinal block wore off much more quickly than with a general anaesthesia, which was exactly why I chose the spinal. I had at-home physical therapy, which became easier every day. What discomfort I had was managed easily with Darvocet.

It was progress, but it was just so slow. Four weeks, I had been told, before anything like normalcy might reappear. Last weekend, the end of my second week at home, I was ready for it to be over. But there were two weeks to go. It occurred to me that the prescribed recovery from hip replacement surgery is long enough to give the patient the idea: what if this were permanent? This might be the point where patients with a permanent injury – paralysis or loss of a leg – start to realize their lives are changed forever. Nothing will ever be the same.

It didn’t help that I felt like I had reached a plateau. The usual awareness of daily improvement was absent through the weekend. In fact I was at a plateau. It was time for me to leave the walker behind. The therapist arrived on Tuesday, gave me a couple of lessons with the cane, and commanded me to take a walk with him up the street and back. I was amazed how easy it was. This week I can carry my own coffee. I can sit comfortably in a chair at the computer. I can take a shower. Karen took me to the barbershop yesterday. I am thinking I will be ready to meet my classes next week.

As long as I pay attention to balance and don’t go too fast, I think it is all downhill from here. Hip surgery veterans all tell me it’s like stepping into a new life. I am starting to feel that happen.