A month ago, I limped into the hospital for a total hip replacement at 7:30 AM. At about 5 PM, a nice nurse pushed me to the car in a wheelchair and helped me get my “surgical” leg into the car. I felt okay considering the day I’d had.
The next day, however, was painful. I had opioids to dull the pain which also kept me sleeping a lot of the time. Twelve hours a night and three naps a day. But that week hurt in ways for which I wasn’t exactly prepared.
I know now that the surgery itself is pretty traumatic what with the cutting and prying and sawing and hammering and positioning the leg on a special table. I’ve learned that the muscles get moved aside, the nerve gets stretched and that contributes to the ache. My thigh, in fact, is numb and may forever be numb, though I won’t know for sure for another year.
Four weeks later, I’m walking with a cane nearly limp free and can walk without the cane, but with a limp. I’m gearing up to go back to work in two weeks and I’m dubious though my physical therapist thinks I’ll be (mostly) okay. I’m exercising like it’s my job and sleeping long nights, trying to give my body all it needs to recover. I’m on the cusp of being bored but happily able to drive again.
The daffodils are blossoming and I’ve seen pink trees in bloom. I feel like I missed all of February while recuperating but if you have to miss a month, February is not a bad one to choose.
So, I’m alive. Just in case you wondered.
