Broken surprises.

It has four years since I had the replacement and four months since the bone graft.

Recovery from the graft is proving to be interesting, more difficult than I thought and with a surprise that my surgeon has never seen from this already unusual surgery.

I had a check up six weeks ago and I am still processing the news, the x-ray showed that I have fractured the bone graft. Clear through middle, where the stem tip hits the bone. We are a bit of a loss as to how this has happened and what this means for the success of the operation. It is gutting.  The unknown of this is a bit tough.

The recovery has been difficult with stiffness and flexibility. I am finding it frustrating and depressing, having a toddler around has made extra hard and I am thankful he came along after the hip replacement! It may have been easier to put this off till Squeaky was in school but we have so many other unknowns this had to be sorted.

I had four Hydrotherapy sessions and they helped. I am finding being focused on the physio difficult and really need to be better. I find I can lift and carry Squeaky but a bit loathe to run after him and he is running! Everywhere!
I need to find some motivation and not let this fracture drag me down and hope that my bone merges in with the graft. I need this leg to be back to normal regardless. I have to this but am so worried it is has failed and all this pain and the lack of flexibility is for nought.to write this a few
I have tried to be sparkly about this but am failing a bit. I am still off work and trying to get myself and this damn leg. Then forward.

Held together with Zip ties.

I am currently propped in my bed with Wonder Woman playing on the TV. My right leg is sore, painful to the bone but slowly getting there. Would you like to know how I got here? Are you okay with slightly gory post operative pictures? Yes? Read on! No? Close the window and find something else to read!
Last Tuesday I was up before the household, quick shower and final pieces packed and off I went, early enough to catch a night bus to the station. Travelled on the tube with the retail workers and work boots and tool boxes. My mohawk sans produce tucked up in a turban and a totally comfy but weird slogan for the day hoodie and I arrived early to UCLH. (University London College Hospital)

In totally British fashion there was a queue at the door as the department did not open till right on the dot of 7am. Peed in a cup and was told I was the first on the list. Which was a surprise but good. Went thought the standard medical questions and the nurse went off to get my gown and assorted gubbins. She returned with the news there was no bed for me at the moment and I would have to wait. No idea how long that would be and that generally these things resolved themselves. I hoped so, having to rearrange all the arrangements we had made would be a pain. The Anaesthetist arrived and was very pleased that I would rather a spinal over a general anaesthetic.

I sat around for a while, and Mr Gin joined me after dropping Squeaky off at childcare. I met Mr Hutt’s Fellow (possibly Registrar) and we signed forms and again I was told they generally sorted the bed issues out. While we waited in the waiting room Mr Hutt dropped in to say everything was ready to go ahead, all the bits assembled. He thought there was a bed but the surgery wouldn’t happen till the afternoon.

I was taken up around 11:30, dressed in the hospital’s finest gowns. I walked to theatre, this something if found interesting, normally there is a wheel chair or bed involved. I left Mr Gin behind, he wouldn’t be there when I got out as he had to pick up Squeaky.

The spinal went smoothly, both Anaesthetist , Mr John Dick and Chris (missed the last name) were lovely, apparently I sat very still but to be honest I didn’t feel it at all. Good work. Mr Hutt was relived that I had selected to be sedated, personally I didn’t want to be awake, nerves would make me extra chatty.

The operation was a bone graft, a piece of donor bone was to be attached to my femur with wires. The medicine/science is that the donor bone should grow into my bone and make it thicker, hopefully this will take the pressure that I can feel and spread the load. Thus hopefully lessening the pain from the stem tip that is resting against the inside of my femur.

I woke in recovery, a bit fuzzy and sore. Lovely staff, as always, recovery nursing staff tend to be the most attentive, I am assuming that recovery is a place that you have to be on your toes. I call Mr Gin, because they realised there would be no one to meet me and I really wanted to let him know I was okay. I had a lovely chat with a Filipino nurse, we talked about being a long way from home and the British weather. Then I was very proactive and threw up my nice short bread biscuit in a vomit bowl. I was feeling a bit dissociative which was to be expected but this nausea was not something I have had with a spinal. I was given a drug to help and then a swift and slightly painful bed change because my bladder was not really there so to speak and throwing up set it off. My blood pressure was low as was my heart rate, this was little bit weird, it is not a rare side effect of a spinal but the heart rate was causing concern. I needed to drink more water. Another nurse came in, a fellow who obviously spent a lot of time in the gym. We had a conversation about my gym experience as a 40 tiny woman compared to his as a hefty nurse. He felt my lower heart rate may result in being fit. (I am not sure if he was being nice, it is odd being called fit by a medical professional.)

I was taken up to the tenth floor where I was looked after by an amazing Irish nursing assistant called Kathleen, she found my home so I could call Squeaky which made me cry. She decided that a slightly nauseous, weepy, Australian mum needed that phone quickly and located it for me. She also took away the sausages and mash that landed on my table that really didn’t help and found a sandwich. Small things that helped. I rewarded her by throwing up the sandwich but in bowls, sadly still required another bed change. Another anti – nausea drug and pain killers followed. My temperature was low, not sure why, the nurses covered me up in blankets and tried to get me warmed. I was surprisingly in a single room, I was warned I would be moved onto a bay, which was fine, but I was happy to be a in a single room for the first night, feeling as spaced as I was.

A friend, H, who worked locally came over after work and sat with me for a bit. We looked at the amazing view over London but I have very little memory of the conversation because the combination of three anti-nausea meds, painkillers and wearing off sedatives really made life interesting. My blankets began undulate on their on accord, looking like that they were breathing. It wasn’t a pleasant experience but I think H thought it slightly amusing!

She left and I dozed for a bit. The downside to low blood pressure is that nursing staff want you to drink water, that in turn means that you need to pee and then that means bed pans! Ack, and getting onto those bastards is hard with a very stiff and painful leg! I hate, loathe bed pans. End of subject.
In the morning, the Surgical Fellow I met before the surgery arrived, looked at the scar, which is lower than my replacement scar, and felt that as long as the physio team agreed and I got an x-ray and that looked good I could go home that day. That was a little bit of surprise, we were expecting a bit longer and if we could get out in the early afternoon it would be all fine. My temperature was higher but blood pressure a touch low.

The Physio arrived, a lively lady named Stacey, arrived with crutches. I had morphine before she arrived in anticipation of this being tough but I was so ready to walk to the toilet it wasn’t funny. We went through a refresher of crutch using and I gently stood up. I then swore, a lot, it fucking hurt but manageable. Mr Hutt had told me that it was likely to be more painful than replacement, he wasn’t wrong. So, up I got, I was going to pee. I turned and my ears began to ring, my head felt tight and I felt really hot. I realised that I was going to faint. I told Stacey that I had to sit down, rapidly and she told me to lie down. She then harassed the bed to get my head lower than my feet. She was quite concerned and checked my blood pressure, which was low, not very low but a bit of concern and my colour was extremely pale. More goth than goth.  The Physio decided that I wasn’t going to be discharged the day with low enough blood pressure.  It took a while for my colour to return.

Stacey decided she would come back in the after lunch to see how I was going and do walking and stairs then. Annoyingly I was to stay in bed until she came back and that meant bed pans.

Mr Gin visited with snacks and I perfected some origami as we waited for the x-ray and physio. The Pharmacist dropped by and discussed drugs, including one that I had not tried before.
Dihydrocodeine, first test to see if it made me throw up and if it works.  During the day I ended up doubling it up with morphine as the pain was pretty full on. In an attempt to feel more human I changed into a nightie of my own which helped.

Stacey the Physio returned and I was fine with the crutches, although the leg was sore, I was happy to give it a go. We did not do the stairs as there was no wheelchair but I wasn’t going home anyway because the x-ray had not happened. But I did not have to use a bed pan so I did not care!
So, Mr Gin went off to pick up Squeaky and H dropped in before she went off a meeting. I was nice to have her company, we admired the view again and I wandered around a bit on my crutches. She headed off on to her meeting and I settled in for the night after saying good night to Squeaky. By 9:30 I was struggling to remain awake so I went to sleep.

The morning was an early start with the Physio turning up before the joy of the pain med cart. I walked on my crutches to the stairs, the leg was very sore but I was going to do this, I miss Squeaky and my bed. (I missed Mr Gin too, but I was seeing him.) There was two Physios and we went up and down a flight of stairs. Oh boy, it hurt, my leg is so stiff, the femur hurt a lot and the incision was tight. I did it though. I got back to my room and Stacey was a gem and located a some morphine, I was very pleased to see it. It takes a fair bit to put me in tears but there was I lying on the bed sobbing but after a while it settled.

Stacey was happy to discharge me, now it was only an x-ray and we were golden but considering they had ordered it yesterday, I was a little worried. I had a pain free nap and an entertaining time doing origami feeling floaty.

The x-ray happened and I got to see the hardware, I have five metal zip ties attaching someone else’s bone to my femur. No wonder it hurt! The x-ray technician thought I was brave, which not what I would call it.  There was a dressing change and the unveiling of the incision, it joins my replacement scar which means it that is one very long scar! The nurse said it was very neat.

The time was slipping away and Mr Gin had to go and pick up Squeaky. Thankfully the lovely R was pleased to duck out of work and wait with me while I butted my head against the wall of hospital policy about not prescribing oramorph. I was not happy with the pain management of the codeine, ibuprofen and paracetamol combo. It removed some of the pain but I wasn’t overly comfortable. The doctors suggested that I stay another night but I wanted to come home and hug Squeaky.
In the end I left with R and we had a bit of a tough time getting a cab due to being officially discharged at 5 pm. Getting discharged from hospital is unbelievably complicated and time consuming.

Home was lovely, Squeaky was lovely and it was good to see Mr Gin and eat real food. All in all it was a very different experience to Epsom and I felt it was odd that I only saw Mr Hutt once.

12 month review - Could do better

Yesterday was the 12 month anniversary of the hip replacement and I am nursing a stonker of a hangover today.

A lot and nothing has happened since I last blogged.  I went to Australia, relaxed, showed my tattoo of my implant to my mother and drove 1500 km in 10 days with surprisingly no ill effects! I also have managed to swim a full 1 km in the pool. All in all, the joint is wonderful, it sometimes grates or vibrates when I stretch which an odd sensation.

I have have very sore feet, I have developed plantar fasciitis which is makes my heels and arches very tender, I went to the GP when they got unbearable, not long before headed to Australia in November. She gave me some exercises that seemed to be okay and my sports masseur released my rock hard calves and stretched the soles of my feet. The reason for the developing of the feet is because of my pretty sudden change from no activity to wanting to walk everywhere!

There was not much improvement but I stuck with the exercises and they settled whilst in Australia only to flair again when back walking in London. I had organised some more Physio on the suggestion of Mr Hutt earlier and we were looking at my walk which is still very limp like and he had done a pretty good job on the skeletal stuff and I shouldn't be limping.  So the Physios have started building my glutes in an effort to stop me dropping into the joint. This seems to be working, very slowly. They also rejigged my exercises for my feet to accommodate my hypermobility. This seems to be helping but I still get days where the feet burn as I sit in the tube which is very uncomfortable. I am finding that I want to limit the amount of walking and that is frustrating, so I am heading back to the GP to see if I can get some steroid injections so I can continue with the exercises but not be in as much pain.

The feet have been frustrating but the fact the thigh pain has not disappeared has been very difficult. We were hoping it would go over time and it wasn’t obvious in Australia except when I tried running on the beach (soft landings there).  Coming back into the cold it became apparent that the pain was still there, some days very bad, sharp pain, when I walk. Going up stairs I can feel the implant every step. Getting up off the floor, that downward pressure is very evident.

I went for my 12 month check up with Mr Hutt, he was very pleased with my progress, the bone is growing into the replacement and overall he is very happy besides the ruddy thigh pain. We talked about what was causing it, the shape of the stem, which is a documented issue but fairly rare. The tip rests on the bone of the femur, which is causing the pain, we think.  Hutt feels it is a pressure differential between the metal and bone. Hence when there is pressure put on the joint moving there is pain flairs.

He has suggested we leave it for another six months, to see if it rights itself. If not we will have to have a CT scan and isolate if it is the whole stem or the just the tip of the stem causing the issue. If it is the whole stem the option will be replacing just the stem.  If it is the tip, it would be putting in a plate to spread the pressure and possibly some bone grafts. Of course the third option will be to leave it and live with it.

In the meantime I am going to try to lose some weight and strengthen the muscles around the hip. This may help and frankly I am ready to grasp at those straws.  I am overweight and the muscles are weak so there are improvements to be made there regardless.

Needless to say the thought of more surgery and revising the implant has made me quite upset and my mental health has taken a bit of a tumble with this newish development. I am really disappointed about it and finding it difficult not to worry big time. It will not be an easy decision if I have to make it. Thankfully Mr Gin is being wonderful and supportive as always.

So Hippy Birthday to me and hopefully this will pass.

Pills and Potions

When I left the hospital there was an enormous amount of pills and potions to take. From anti- inflammatories to hard core opiates. (Pictured above.)

But as many people have said this is major surgery and when you have had some of the largest and hardworking muscles cut, it is going to hurt!

And I have spoken about blood clots and the needles.

Yesterday we reached a milestone, the end of the needles. Mr Gin, my hero, is just as pleased as me to see the end of these! 30 days of the ‘stabby’ alarm, of the stabby dance and injections that hurt to tears and ones that were prefect. As time moved on the time for the injection was later in the evening and sometimes we were out. We did injections in disabled toilets, sitting at pub tables and at dinner table.  So goodbye needles!

The other thing is a lot of the pain meds are being cut down. I started with tramadol at least three times a day and oral morphine at night and the full does of Naproxen. I have cut back the morphine to a point it is a very rare occasion it is needed. I have two Tramadol free days! I am heading out today and may need one but I am now taking it on a needs basis. (The huge plus side to the drop in opiates is my digestive system is slowly getting back on track!)

I do throw paracetamol in to the mix as paracetamol is a wonder drug as far as I'm concerned. It gives a kick to everything, especially opiates. Tramadol has a longer life span when paracetamol is added (and same with morphine).
So, frankly I am pleased with this. The next goal will be giving the Naproxen a kick but the muscles get too heavy and stiff without them.
Goodbye needles! Now waiting to see the surgeon to see what he thinks, roll on the 1st of March.

7:15pm Stab my girlfriend

Epidural Bruise

Deep vein thrombus. Not just preserve of long haul flights.

It is also a big risk with major surgery, the surgery itself can produce clots and the blood gets sticky. Avoiding blood clots was one of the reasoning behind the epidural, apparently they cause less clots than general anaesthetic. 

 So, it is something that nursing staff drum into you. Drink a lot, keep that blood flowing.  Wear your TEDS, a stocking designed to keep the blood flowing through your lower limbs. My feet and calved have swollen somewhat but not as much as my thigh and bum!  

Getting the TEDS on and off is an entertaining experience as they are quite tight; I discovered each nurse has a technique that works for them.  Mainly this centres around a plastic bag over the foot, the TEDs being folded in half, slid onto the foot and when a half on you unfold it up the calf to below the knee. Then you roll the bottom up the foot a little using the inception hole and pull the plastic bag out.  It is nigh on impossible putting them on yourself. My mother is doing them at the moment as she had experience of them with my Dad after heart surgery and when he does long haul flights (he has had DVT).

The other thing is Dalteparin soduim, a blood thinning medicine. This has proved to be an interesting thing for Mr Gin. As we know, Mr Gin does not like hospitals and a little bit phobic about them. He was not best pleased with sitting with me in the pre-surgery suite, as I rattled away with nervousness and they took blood and stuck me full of needles. I was beyond surprised when Nurse Susan asked who was going to administer the Dalteparin soduim, he offered. Why was I surprised? Dalteparin soduim is a subcutaneous injection. Yep, my partner offered to stab me with a needle on my belly every evening for 30 days!  He is very good at because they do hurt a bit even though they are a thin needle. They go into the belly fat and they hurt, for me, for some time as the liquid spreads through and is absorbed into my belly fat.

The main side effect of this, besides a smug Mr Gin brandishing a needle at my tummy when his phone alarm goes off (labelled stab my girlfriend), is the bruising. I have a tummy with an assortment of small round puncture bruises from the needles. Also the deep bruising of the operation is coming up in a myriad of colours. And any small knock bruises and they are taking forever to heal. 

For now I am doing a lot of feet wiggling when sitting or lying down and not stay in the one position too much but this does mean I want to walk a lot more and that is causing more swelling. It is bloody, swelly tightrope.

Time flies when working hard

So, I am sitting here, planning to be heading home tomorrow. They wanted to discharge me today, but frankly I was still feeling wobbly and I had not attempted stairs and the stairs at home give me the heebies.
Saturday was similar to Friday but a much better night’s sleep but still feeling pain in my knee. Breakfast but the lovely nurse Susan said I was to shower as I had my catheter out the night before. Oh, my lord, it was bliss even though I needed all the help and it was exhausting. I felt knackered but so much cleaner than the day before. I found I have lovely biro (ballpoint pen) marks from the planning on my leg and the bruises are turning the most amazing colours.
Then came physio. I was moved off the zimmer frame of doom and onto crutches. A lot of one foot catching up with the other and trying to adjust my gait to take in the new leg length and general appalling walk from years of favouriting the right hip. There were standing exercises, one that I do beautifully because of all that sock yoga.
The crutches needed practice which I duly did. We did have a bit of excitement with M, one of my ward mates passing out, and causing a great flurry of people coming from all corners of the ward. It was frightening and I was quite concerned that M was going to die, she looked so bad.
Things settled down and I tried to practice my bed exercises and talk to Mr Gin and M did it again, this time I noticed her starting to roll her eyes back in her head and alerted the nurse. Again battle stations were called and she ended up in bed, resting. By the afternoon she was looking much better and brightened when her visitors arrived later in the afternoon.
Mum, Mr Gin and I played dominoes and discussed the revelation I might be discharged tomorrow (Sunday), I expressed my concern with the lack of stair preparation and given the massively steep stairs at home Mr Gin was inclined to agree with me.
He had been a trooper coming out to visit me when his back was sore and enduring the 5 hours of public transport to see me for a few hours. It was lovely to see him, I miss his company terribly and he rocks as a partner!
He helped make sure my bed was flat which was causing the pain in my knee, which meant I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Buoyed by being able to get changed myself from day clothes into jammies!
Alas, that was not to happen as the other lady with a hip replacement, E began to throw up and be in enormous amounts of pain. Infection had set in and she was not comfortable. A nurse sat with her most of the night as they juggled drugs, bought the night time consultant to check her, and waited for the antibiotics to kick in. She slept sitting up some of the night and in the morning, this morning looked much better. But neither I nor M got great sleep.
Today was the dreaded stairs day, I really was nervous and not keen. The lovely physio, Karina, was caring and gentle and not that fussed about my tears. We went through steps and then hit the stairs. That was hard work and I really did not feel confident with them. She agreed that I could stay and give them a red hot go tomorrow. We also went through the height of the bed at home and the toilet and practised getting up, down, on and off those heights.
I also had a shower, stood in the shower and managed to give myself and even better wash. AND get my own trousers on, which was great. I still cannot believe I can put my full weight onto my new hip, I can stand unaided but should not do that too often.
I have also started working normally with the crutches, not one foot catching up to the other. Mum came for a visit and we coloured together and chatted as Mr Gin stayed home and rested his back.
As long as nothing happens during the night and stairs go well, I am set for heading home tomorrow. Monday, after a complete hip replacement surgery on Thursday. Amazing.

And it is done!

There has been some eventful few days, a little recap of Thursday and Friday.

We were all up at 5:30 am and out of the house at 6:45 am to be lead along a meticulously planned journey by Mr Gin. My mother and I sort of sailed along in his wake and we embarked on the 2 hour public transport trek to Epsom.

We got there in plenty of time and played in the star trek chairs before Mr Gin and I headed up to the Pre surgery unit. There we had to answer all the questions and then meet the anaesthetist, the registrar and finally Mr Jonathan Hutt, the man of the moment.  The anaesthetist, Mr Singh was lovely, very through and then explained that they generally do an epidural instead of a General Anaesthetic.  This was a bit of a new one for me, it is not something I have done before and was feeling a little apprehensive about, I had no experience of them and frankly major surgery is not something I want to listen to. In the end he convinced me and I opted for it with heavy sedation.

There was an x-ray of the CAD program that Mr Hutt had used to plan the drawing. When Jenny the registrar came in to mark my leg, I added the smiley face to add good luck to the surgery.  Mr Hutt explained what he was going to do and that we were looking at two to three hours of surgery and possibly a blood transfusion.  The words complex and difficult were bandied about but Mr Hutt was confident and everyone I spoke to, nurses and other staff said he was very good.  When speaking with medical staff I have learnt they don’t give high praise unless it is deserved, they are more likely to say just good or okay if they are not that impressive.

I was wheeled into surgery after saying good bye to Mr Gin. In the theatre there was an array of cloth covered trolleys and a bed for me. On my side and bent into an uncomfortable position I exposed my spine (and bum) and once in position sedated. And that is it.

I woke in recovery feeling pretty good in the grand scheme of things, not the normal heavy nasty feeling after a general. The leg felt pretty good too. Very numb as they inject the area with local anaesthetic and touching your own leg and not feeling it is very strange. Mr Hutt and Jenny checked in on me. He was pleased with the outcome and there was one minor hiccup . I have a piece of wire around the femur because a crack developed. My femur is not as big as he expected.  He was very pleased with the outcome and felt it should last me 20 years!  That is great news.

The other big surprise was that he did manage to take the screws out in one piece! And I have them, my companions for thirty years and they will continue, I think the form of earrings! (Need to get my ears pierced first.)

Once I had something to eat I was taken down (or up) to the ward. I was still feeling fine, very unusual, legs a bit tingly and the dead wood feel of the local still happening. I had chosen to have a catheter for avoiding the dreaded bed pan. This is also a weird experience and one I am not sure I want to repeat again.
My Mum and Mr Gin met me on the ward, a three bed with two older ladies, E, 80 having a hip done and M, 72 having her knee done. I was given morphine and unsurprisingly that made me a little spaced and chatty. All in all I felt okay, not completely comfortable but not as uncomfortable as I thought. My leg was a remarkable red colour from the disinfectant. The wound site is covered in a water proof bandage and stuck together with glue! The bruises are amazing and continue to be so, high lighting the old scars running through them.

They left and I was exhausted and ready to settle for the night. The lights were bright and I could not get comfortable. My right knee became more and more sore. Once the lights finally did go out I desperately tried to go to sleep but just could not settle.

I rang the bell and the night nurse gave me some morphine which helped a little and I waited an hour and was almost in tears by this stage. She hooked up a paracetamol drip and I finally got some sleep, about 3 hours worth!

The day started early as they do with hospitals.  All three of us started the same routine, breakfast, and the bed baths. The amazing red disinfectant was removed and the bandage checked. The sexy TEDS (dark green stockings for stopping my legs swelling and halt blood clots forming) were applied with a bit of wrestling.  Then the physiotherapy team came in and there was in bed exercises and then there was Zimmer frames! Walking! You read that right. Up walking in about 16 hours of surgery. Not that painful as there was still local anaesthetic rattling the joint.  Although very awkward with the catheter.

The oddest bit for me is it felt all cock-eyed when I stood up. Mr Hutt had almost made me completely level. A very surreal and distinctly odd feeling. It has taken my brain a little time to catch up.
There was more physio after lunch, walking with a Zimmer frame and generally a bit of exercising and drinking all water because if you filled it enough you could get it out.

I was taken to x-ray which proved to be a difficult, I felt very much pushed around and put into an EXTREMELY uncomfortable position that upset me a bit. But I did get to see the x-ray and it looks amazing. A nurse came in and told me that Mr Hutt was pleased with the x-ray.

By Friday dinner time I was pretty over the catheter, uncomfortable and annoying and I was drinking heaps and filling it up. The Physio was happy I could walk myself to the toilet. I asked the nurse if I could get it out and she said I had to wait till morning. I was a little disappointed with that and willing to wait morning but it was driving me bonkers. The head nurse then decided to do it then and there because she felt that I would be okay. Not the most comfortable experience but very thankful for the nurse to get it out quickly and understand that I was over it.

My visitors went and I collapsed for the night it had been a long couple of days.

Heading out and staying healthy

Well, it is 7 days to go, this time next week it should be all over besides the fat lady groaning.

It was drummed into me when I at the health check, if I had a cold the operation would be off!

So I have spent the last few weeks looking like a Casualty extra who has wandered off set or I 'm auditioning for a star wars role wearing my face mask on the tube and generally out in London.

Also I'm obsessive with hand wash, and anti-bacterial things, this is not really me, at all. I am in the what does not kill you will just make you stronger camp.

I am also avoiding parties and gigs, which is depressing and wearing the mask at the cinema. Very sexy! Pictured above is my going out kit. Drugs and anti-bacterial stuff abounds.

So far so good, no sniffles or cuts or scratches. Fingers crossed for the next week.

Two weeks to go and I can not wait.

So, it is two weeks today till surgery and I can not wait. I am over the pain and in the grand scheme of things I have little to belly ache about it.
I am in the privileged position that my pain should disappear within month of the operation.  It may hurt from time to time but it has always been manageable. I was born broken and although my mother did the best she could in a small country town, I was not fixed. In the end a very good surgeon did the best he could with a bad situation. We knew that it was all going to pear shaped at some point and it was just a matter of time. Having always being broken, I don't really know different and it is just a way of life, frustrating at times and down right depressing at others but on the whole fairly happy and my normal.
Recently, someone on the Internet suggested I had more right to complain about pain and illness than others, because they felt I had an identifiable issue. ie mashed up hip. And I was 'allowed' to whinge. This rankles quite a lot.  Not only because that sort of statement is pretty ridiculous but also because it touched on something that I have been thinking about for a long time. The privilege of pain and that I am in the white straight man zone.
First, I just want to talk a little about pain. Up until recently I have had bouts of being pain free, if I sat for a while or was in bed it was pretty good. I know can feel the joint in bed and some day there is little I  can do to ignore it and have taken all the pain killers. I hobble about and swear a lot and rest a lot but I can get stuff done. Not as much as I would like but I am pretty good at working out what I can get done on a given day. But I have had to adjust everything in my life. I am not out as much, when I am out, I am packing heavy pain killers so I can walk, socialise or generally try and live life, within a hip that is rubbing bone on bone allows.
It is isolating because being at home is the best, less distance to walk, no pesky public transport and comfy couch and amazing bed. Our couch also allows me to lie down and there is a big arse telly with Netflix and a the Skybox. So, home is safe and cosy but we do live a fair way away from most of our social life when you are on a cane and restricted with distance.
That isolation plays havoc with your mental health, social media shows people out and about doing things, some that you have had to turn down. As time wears on getting people to come to you and getting to things becomes harder and it is easier to curl up at home. At home I have one person to complain to. Mr Gin is lovely but he does not need to hear that, me being in pain is tough for him too. He is doing more around the house and in general being the rock for my crazy. And crazy is the operative word. I have a couple outlets, social media, taking photos and sewing. Sewing is becoming difficult as the standing and the physical action of using the sewing machine foot is getting harder. So, the outlets are becoming smaller and social media is the best place to feel less like you are alone, driving the love of your life nuts. Facebook is a pub and twitter a huge nightclub.  Inevitably you end up being that person who has a one update. Or a couple, that revolve around how shitty you feel and you are cancelling again. But it is an outlet and an important one.
But I am very privileged. I have a light at the end of my tunnel, I have juggled and am on a road that should lead to new and possibly a better normal. As long as it does not go wrong relatively pain free, able to dance all night and then walk home. Why is this privilege? Because there is an end.
I have a number of friends with chronic conditions there is no end, there are less pain options but you have to give up something in some cases or there is simply nothing that can be done but managing life and expectations. And that isolation I have only had to deal with a short period is their life. And justifiably they have to have outlets because life is bed of roses and roses have big bloody thorns.  One friend, who has Ehlers-Danlos, a rare joint disorder was on the receiving end of some nasty stuff because she vented on Facebook. I was once briefly was misdiagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos, I am just overly bendy, nothing that causes the issues she has. And has no way to get away from them. Personally, I would be complaining a lot more than she does. And hell, more than most friends with issues.
Mainly because I have walked in their shoes for a mile and I don't like it, not one freaking bit. I am prevailed and acknowledge it. Next time you see that whiney sick mate complaining on Facebook, don't tell them to pull their socks up. Offer to take the party to them or just listen. And don't be a dick.
Bring on Thursday two weeks away.

Have Cape Will Travel!

I have just spent a week in the Lake District.

Travelling with a dodgy hip makes for an interesting time when going into an area of natural beauty with mountains and mud. In nature there are hills, stones, steps and not many bust stops which can make it tough to make it an enjoyable time. But we had a plan!

We had a car and a lot of tramadol. We had a small list of things we wanted to do and as it is late November in the UK the days are short. This meant we could keep our days at manageable length by trying to returning back to our holiday home before dark.

The other part of the plan was to take strong pain killers and hope I did not buy all the shiny things and also  not do too much and make sure what we did was accessible. Mr Gin said he would rather a slightly drugged me than me being in pain. I took this on board , I don’t like the feeling of being on tramadol and there was one point I felt like my brain had shrunk and I could feel a breeze  between my brain and skull, not very nice. It did mean I could walk further and we did something every day. And most of it involved some walking, generally I rested in the evening and in the mornings not too much pain to deal with! Mr Gin was a trooper and had to explain to some shop keepers as I lost track of my thought’s and found money a little tricky at time. Oddly I found dealing with my camera generally fine. I used my cane outside all the time and found most people aware off it and got out of my way which helped too.

A couple of places that deserve mention for their amazing accessibility and views as, for me, most of the views were out of my reach with the walking.  The first was  Force , an amazing water fall in the Pennines. The walk was a wide gravelled path, a little steep at the beginning that would be a challenge for wheel chairs coming back. For me it was very comfortable, and it was only at the falls I skipped the short flight if steps to the river side. The views all the way were stunning and not going down the stair did not mean I felt I was missing out!  Brilliant.

The old railway line walk in Keswick was also lovely, it was a little muddy and stout boots would be advisable. The bridges were well constructed and had anti slip bits. It is part of a bike trail to the coast there were no steps. The general feel was tranquil and well used with lots tourists and visitors using it, from bike riders, joggers, older walkers and lots of dogs using the trail. We were assured there was good coffee at the end.

We visited Beatrix Potter’s Cottage, the house is generally not open and I suspect would be very much an old building with the standard issue winding stairs and narrow doorways and tight interiors. The original cobbled path was a challenge but we did find an asphalt path which was much easier to navigate.  There were some steps into the main building but I think there was a way around this. The cottage is run by the National trust and the staff were super helpful.

Castlerigg stone circle was amazing to visit, located in a field there was a little bit of a sort ground issue and if you were on your own the self-closing gated could be a challenge. We parked right outside and just crossed the road to get in. At the entrance there was a bronze plate with the relief casting of the circle for those with vision loss. The hill was a little steep and the grass deep but I got up the hill to be greeted with the most magnificent view. Just breath taking. The circle was lovely and the view stunning. Had it been any wetter I figure the grass would be mud but certainly accessible.

A lot of the Lake District towns are old and therefore have the standard issues of steps and generally getting into places. In general we did not find many places with toilets down stairs or upstairs like you do in London. Most of the pavements were well cared for but of course there were places there was no pavement and you had to go onto the road. Most of the curbs were low and dropped in many places.

Finally the most wonderful thing was it was possible to get to parts of the lakes and drink in the views and even driving around in the car the views were stunning.

With the all the planning and work arounds we had a great time, but so will be back when I can climb some mountains. 

Chasing my tail

The two week deadline has passed for contact from the Elective Orthopedic Centre , no word, not a peep. I'm not surprised but slightly peeved that I'm not surprised.

So, today it will be chasing, chasing the health check date and hopefully a surgery date. Making sure it is Jonathan Hutt doing the cutting. Then chasing my doctor's surgery for a prescription of Naproxen, the drug that seems to be making life much more easier to deal with.

I will also be chasing work, re working from home, as the start date is looming for that. I'm glad that work have finally realised how bad it all is. It took a while, I'm not sure if they thought I should be in tears or something. I've formed the opinion my perception of pain is quite different to the rest of the world. I blame film for this, not all of us go around screaming and wailing. I go ofph, that is it, a small sound as the pain sharpens up. The same pain that reduced me to tears six months ago. The body is amazing. I do get relief, there are times it doesn't hurt but they are getting rarer. The drugs reduce it to a dull ache and the big drug, tramadol, can make the pain go completely.

 I have been helping my women's institute branch organise an early Halloween party.  To get through the evening I took some tramadol, I wore cool boots and divided my time between sitting and standing. It was a good time and I felt great besides the bottom of the barrel feeling of dislocation. My Halloween team and Mr Gin were aware of this and were great in making sure the barrel was not too deep. The evening was a success and I felt as close to the old me as I can get. I am hoping the new hip does this without the bottom of the barrel feeling.
 
My hat goes off to those who have much more pain and manage life.

I hope today I catch my tail.

Our hero battles a panther, Hutt and official old lady status.

Panther.

My morning began with a dropped Naproxen pill and trying to convince our forever hungry black cat that the white pill was not a treat and not fall over picking the damn thing up!

Hutt.

The main job today was to get to St George hospital in Tooting, an hour and half journey of bus, tube, tube and a bit of a walk.
Finding the department was a challenge because I had no letter due to the short notice. I knew who it was to be with and after directions from a helpful volunteer I found my way to the orthopaedic and trauma department. Filled with young people with busted limbs, older people with sticks and a lot of sets of crutches, it was a busy place and I registered my presence via the electronic do hickey instead of queuing and settled in for a long wait.  Ten minutes and my name was called!  Win!
The lovely nurse informed me I had to take myself off to x-ray. I had already sent one in but they wanted more. I walked past the same volunteer and presented my slip to the lady. At that point I was told there would be a two hour wait!  I may not of worn my yoga pants that are helpful for x-rays but I did bring a book. I checked in with Mr Gin, having to leave as there was no signal and then came back in and settled down to read the book.  This was a much better plan that shopping like my first though as I got into four pages in and my name was called. I was about to introduce crunchy the hip to a trainee radiographer and have to wear a hospital gown! Joy!
The x-ray was quite uncomfortable, really odd pose in one of the shots. The radiographer did have a fun time finding bits of pelvis, as they feel peculiar due to bone graft donor sites.
Back to the delightfully named Orthopaedics and Trauma clinic. Again ready for a wait. Again, not much of one.
The person who called me was not Phillip Mitchell, he introduced himself as Mr Hutt. No a good start. It turns out Mr Hutt has a special interest in younger hip issue patients with a focus on people like myself with complications of childhood surgery.  He seemed very interested and was surprised that I had early x-rays with me.We did a history. Then moved to why I made sure I wore sensible underwear. He called for a hospital gown, I know from experience that this is a fiddly way to do these exams. Clear view of the legs and pelvis helps the doctor and I have done it so much of this, I am not fussed about gowns. So, I walked the hobbly walk. Scored my hyper-mobility, 8/9. Then the pulling, twisting and bending and making me go ouch. He also checked the scar on the side of my thigh, he said they could excise the scar and extend it.
Trousers on and a long talk about the complications that could occur. One of the more worrying ones is a possibility of doing damage to my sciatic nerve.  Apparently with the amount of surgery I have had there is a possibility the nerve is not in the normal location and could be close to the surgery site, and permanent damage done. A surprising thing is my right leg could end up longer than my left!
The short outcome is the hip is full of arthritis and there is no joint space left in the hip, it is worn out. I could either leave it and carry on or get a hip replacement.

And this is the metal:  https://www.depuysynthes.com/hcp/hip/products/qs/S-ROM-Modular-Hip-System

I have said yes to this, it is needful, I am not going to be able to live like this much longer, I want my life back.  It will take 6 to 12 months to recover. Younger hip replacement recipients struggle with recovery because of the lack of feedback through the joint. I am not sure I have had much feedback besides pain!  So, 2016 is the year of the new hip. No marathons but still good.

And it will be done by Jonathan Hutt, because as a younger surgeon, he will be around to do the left and right revision.  Also, he was not offended when I was very hesitant about him and said I could swap surgeons if I wanted. I also had a good vibe from him, he is my age and understands why I'm all about wanting my life back. And with some luck, I won't call him Jabba.

Old Lady Status.

I now own slip on Sketcher shoes, Old lady shoes but ones I can put on myself!

Thank you Mr Gin for helping me through today.

Almost complete obliteration

The, the past month, five weeks has been tough.

No movement on a consultant appointment, three weeks off sick, read the x-ray report and played with lots of medication. Time for a catch up!

Things have been going down hill for a while, stress migraines popping up, lots of pain killers, still just paracetamol and ibuprofen and curtailing life in general. Jobs taking longer, rests are longer and I generally have felt pretty low. We had the Victoria tube line interrupted because of engineering work, this meant a longer, more crowded commute and having to use my cane a lot more than I would like. Work knew but really, the understanding of my commute and the knock on effects were not there. This was frustrating. The pain levels increased with the commute and my mood plummeted. Even when the commute went back it, the body didn't bounce back.

Exhausted, in pain and depressed, I took some sick leave, citing hip pain but also out of cope. I figured some better painkillers were needed. A phone call to the doctors to sort that out and in that conversation I was told the xray report. That there is almost complete obliteration of the joint space. Obliteration, not a word you want attached to your body.

That was a gut blow, I cried a lot, I cried at my supportive boyfriend, I cried into my cat's fur as they lay in a cat puddle, twisted together. The brave face cracked. I realised work was a part that had to be taken out of the equation. It was not helping in the physical management and I desperately needed head space.

After a week, I physically saw a doctor and he signed me off work for two weeks. Also told me to up my new medication,naproxen and prescribed tramadol. He also said chase the consultant appointment, because over a month was certainly enough waiting.

I did that, and spoke with two people at St George's who said they would call me back, but didn't, I did give them a week each to do this.

So, the third try it was recommended I contact PALS, which I did.  More on that outcome later.

I returned to work and had a meeting with my line manager and his manager, I explained the drugs and generally that sitting all day and the commute is killing me.  I have said the same thing to Occupational Health and they have backed me up with a report suggesting one day a week working from home.  This would break up the tube travel which I am finding increasingly difficult to deal with, it hurts to sit and stand on the tube and the sheer amount of people is nuts and they knock into you!  I have a meeting next week to see if the team can do that, if they can't I am not sure what to do.

One positive has been a sports massage that seemed to loose a lot of the muscles around the hip and in my back that has reduced my pain, a lot!  Swimming is still helping but currently shopping for slip on shoes! Such an old lady!