Recovery

Oh, hi.

I decided I’d start a new blog for my recovery. If you missed the memo, I had a total hip replacement earlier this month.

So. How am I?

Rough. I’m rough. It’s a painful thing! I know it’s temporary. I know I will be better than OK when I have recovered but I’m still working on it. I’m getting used to a new structure. I’ve never had a healthy joint. How one of my surgeons explained it to me at my 2 week check-up:

“With arthritis, the joint forms as a T. With a healthy hip, the joint is more of a ⊢.” The doctor also went on to explain that the reason my leg feels a bit foreign (and sore) is because three muscles were interfered with during the operation and all of them were stretched to accommodate a proper, healthy joint structure.

Leg length discrepancy is a potential complication with a total hip replacement and I was initially worried about that. Now that I’m three weeks into my recovery, my worries are fading. I know my legs are a similar length and there is no complication there. It is a sensory trick my mind is playing on me because my muscles have been stretched.

It’s a weird feeling, feeling like I’ve been doing yoga or working out all day when I have literally been a slug! Why do my muscles feel like they’ve had a good workout? Because they have. They’ve been pulled. They’re getting used to this new, healthy structure the same way the rest of my body (including my brain) is!

I am very happy with the care I received at the Ottawa Hospital (General). I am grateful for the support I’ve received from my community! I am learning (always learning) that a total hip replacement in a hip like mine with 35 years of arthritis (OA and RA) and dysplasia means a harder recovery; a different path.

Everyone’s body is different and our abilities range. I’m thankful for all that my body has been able to do over the years, in spite of some difficult circumstances. This new hip takes away my extreme pain caused by the disease so what I have to deal with now, in the relatively ‘short term’, is recovering from the procedure. I will adapt to this new structure and I’m so excited to have a healthy joint!

I shared the image (above) recently to show off my scar. This was taken after my 2 week post op check-up where I had my staples removed. This bandage hides a large scar, where the joint went in. I shared it because I want people to see and understand that joint replacement surgeries happen to everyone at all points of life. The overrepresentation of my disease as something that only affects seniors is a huge disservice to all those who are diagnosed at a young age. I was 18 months old, so perhaps I was even born with it? I grew up with the disease AND learning how to navigate peoples ignorance.

Today, I am honoured to share my story with anyone who will listen. There are young people out there wondering what arthritis looks like OR how medical intervention can help OR what to expect with a total joint replacement. I want to be here for you and I hope sharing my experience(s) helps.

An Update on my Troublesome Hip

Today is the six week anniversary of my (cortisone) hip injection. Dr. Jessica Curran at the Carleton Sport Medicine Clinic walked me through the process and was very pleasant, even though I was pretty tense. Dr. Curran went over my X-rays with me and told me what to expect and I told her that I was probably going to exercise my fight or flight response by laughing. Whenever I’m in pain or nervous, I laugh. It’s a good thing to warn your doctor about if you experience this type of response, too, I’ve learned. The needle to numb the area (lidocaine) was a bit of a pinch, then I started to sweat and chose to ignore the ultrasound screen which the doctor used to guide the needle directly into my hip joint (which entered through my thigh). I hate veins. I get nervous with deep, probing needles even though I’ve had a lot of them.

The whole thing was over in a flash and I couldn’t believe it. I was allowed to stay in the room until my wooziness subsided (less than 10 mins.) and when it came time to walk out, I couldn’t believe how my legs felt: no pain. No pain at all and because I wasn’t in any pain, I didn’t have to limp.

The thing about limping, in my case, is that I do it innately to avoid my hip giving out and to accommodate the pain that I have been living with for the last seven or eight years.

I had previously tried to treat this pain with regular chiro/acupuncture appointments during pregnancy. My chiropractor and I were both under the impression that the source of the pain was my SI joint. This pain often flares during pregnancy. Long story short: it was my hip. My SI joint is fine.

Now, the no pain thing in this instance was thanks to the lidocaine, or as I like to call it (because I’m hilarious), “bone cocaine”.

I walked from the clinic to my motorcycle without limping. Well, I probably still walked with a limp but I really focused on my gate and tried to walk in a “normal” fashion, just to see if I could. It was incredible! Of course, an hour later when the numbing agent wore off, I regretted that. I felt pretty awful and went to bed early.

I didn’t sleep a lot that night. I was very worried that maybe the cortisone wouldn’t work. This hip injection is a precursor to my total hip replacement surgery which I am now in the cue for, for sure this time! The surgeon and I filled the paperwork out together on September 7th. Before my surgeon sent me on my way, he said he’d arrange for this hip injection and cautioned: “If the injection relieves your pain, the hip surgery will be a success. If it doesn’t, we need to find the source of the pain.”

All signs pointed to the hip… so why did I feel like garbage once the lidocaine wore off? I couldn’t fall asleep because I was scared that the cortisone wasn’t going to work. It can take a couple days to kick in, but I have been in such intense pain, constantly, without relief, for nearly 10 years (in my right hip. My RA is also terrible but it comes and goes in terms of how debilitating it can be).

More and more, I read stories about disabled people who choose assisted death because they aren’t really living. They are worn out from the pain. While I don’t see that as an option for me at this time, the prospect of not getting relief from this pain or losing my ability to walk and having hope of meaningful medical intervention and recovery slip away really spooked me. I’m only 36 and I’m more able bodied now than I’ve ever been thanks to my medical team and drug therapies. I have a full time job that I enjoy doing, own a house and a cottage with my husband and we’ve got two awesome, healthy children. I can’t give up hope, you know?

Somehow amidst all of those worrisome thoughts, I was able to fall asleep*, and when I woke up, my pain was gone.

The thing about me is that my lived medical experiences have taught me to never be anything more than “cautiously optimistic”. Surely it’s too soon for the cortisone to be working? Now, I’ve had many cortisone shots back in my CHEO days. They used to put me to sleep to do them because they would inject all of my problem joints in one go. I figured my folks might remember if cortisone was always this immediately effective (providing relief within 24 hours) and, sure enough, my mom tells me, “Amy, you were always like that.”

Be optimistic. Be scared. Be willing to go the distance and be ready to accept limitations. When the time comes to embrace relief, in its many forms: be whatever that is, too.

*The pain I experience is so bad that I do not sleep very well at the best of times. Laying down hurts. I’ve been living like this for at least seven years. The pain creates its own form of fatigue due to my body constantly fighting to “keep going”. Then I have the regular fatigue of someone who can’t get any quality sleep.