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Hello Betty!

Today is one week post op from having total hip replacement surgery and I swear it feels more like a month from my point of view.  There have been good days and bad days, a little depression, a few tears but every day gets a little bit better.

I’ve started physical therapy and that is making a difference, I can tell because I’m so sore on the nights of PT and the next day my hip is stiff and it’s a little hard to move.  I’m sure that will get easier over time and I want to give Betty the best possible chance to be the very best she can be so I’ll continue to do my exercises and not cuss out my PT team.

I know I’m an independent Boss Babe over here, but it’s becoming more evident that I’m also just plain stubborn.  I woke up early this morning, 4am, in blistering-white-hot pain that steals your breath and makes you cry.  I just needed an ice pack and a pain pill.  The pills were next to me but the ice pack was across the apartment in the freezer. My adult daughter was in the next bedroom and it would have taken one phone call for me to get her up to help me.  She would have been there in a second.  Did I call her?  No.  I struggled, breathed, panted, cried, cussed, cried some more, then forced myself to sit up. I dragged my walker over to me and stood up and was back in bed with my ice pack moments later.  I went on to sleep five more uninterrupted REM sleep hours.  The whole event could have been avoided or lessened by just asking for help, but I didn’t.

I’ve had so many people tell me to ask them for help if I need anything.  I walk through my apartment and notice things that I’d like to do but are a little out of my ability right now and think for a brief moment of who I could call to help me with this and that but I never call.  It’s completely outside of my ability to reach out and ask.  Complete stubbornness and bullheadedness.  I think my Dad is the only one who barges through my stubbornness and doesn’t give me a choice, he tells me he’s coming over and I basically don’t have a say so.  He comes and brings me dinner or picks me up and takes me to Physical Therapy.  He gets the same way with asking for and accepting help.  I suspect we speak the same language on the subject so he just doesn’t give me an opportunity to object.  I can respect that.

I’m anxious to get my bandages off and staples out.  The hardest part of walking is the pull on the incision when my quad muscle engages.  There’s no pain in the hip joint generally, but the incision screams like white hot fire.  I’m hoping once those staples are out and the space aged bandage is removed we’ll be cooking with gas in the walking department. The best part is, I have no more limp!  My legs are the same length for the first time in years and I have a pretty epic range of motion for one week out of surgery.  The bandage that’s on my incision is called a Pico dressing and it’s got a seal around the dressing and a pump that pumps any moisture away from the incision into the bandage and keeps a steady level of pressure on the wound.  It’s a pretty cool device that I can detach for showering and it just hooks to whatever I’m wearing.  I’ve been advised to cut it off when the battery runs out in the coming days and then it will be completely removed next week when I see the surgeon again.

The support I received pre-surgery was amazing.  My friends and work family lined me up with magazines, gift certificates for my favorite Chinese restaurant and they all signed my shoes and drew silly pictures on them.  My nurses at the hospital loved them and so do the Physical Therapists, as I wear them to every appointment.  These shoes will go down in history as my Betty Shoes. Why do I feel the need to name everything?  I don’t know, but it’s probably intermingled with why I never wanted to hurt my stuffed animals feelings by not putting them on the bed in the mornings.  Can’t have Fuzzy-Wuzzy Bear angry with me.

One thing that has become evident in this post surgical week is that sleep is the sweetest thing ever.  I knew I wasn’t sleeping well before surgery but the ability to fall asleep in one position and not experience any pain, only to wake up five hours later in the same position, completely refreshed, completely rested is something I hope I never take for granted again.  Nighttime had become my least favorite time of day because I knew it was going to be a struggle of me vs. Hazel as to who was going to be the most needy. Now it’s a welcome time of recuperation and relaxation again.  I have fallen back in love with sleep look forward to our time together every night.

I’m so glad I have this Blog to remember times like this as life changes and certain things end, new things begin and I continue to grow.  I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had moments of feeling really alone and vulnerable, that’s part of this Independent Chick Gig I think. Times when you feel so alone and need someone but you’ve successfully painted yourself into an independence corner and are too stubborn to get yourself out of it.  I know if anything really major came along, I’d swallow my pride and ask for help.  As for today, I have what I need and my lovely adult daughter is always there and shook her head at me, as I described last nights pain debacle and told me in no uncertain terms to call her next time.  As my TC Newman tweeted me as I turned to Twitter with my pain (because that’s problem solving, right?) and my resistance to call the Spawn because she has to work late tonight and needed her rest, “She’s young and resilient! They bounce back quick….not to say you’re not young….I mean…it’s” Queue Homer Simpson meme of him sliding back into hedges. He’s right.  She’s right.  I should have called her in the next room and asked her for help.  Baby steps.  Acknowledging is the first one, right?

I’m a work in progress.  Very fast healing progress.  Until the next update, thank you for the prayers and the well wishes, and for those who have checked up on me.  I so appreciate you.  Cheers!

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2 thoughts on “Hello Betty!

  1. Best wishes for a continued speedy recovery!! Asking for help is always so tough for us independent, feisty women, but do it. Think of the 5 Languages of Love – Acts of Service. Allow people to love you with Acts of Service. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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