Tag Archives: Birmingham Hip Resurfacing

Choosing a different Street

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Street

It has been some time since I last wrote, and much has happened in that time. I felt quite low after the dislocations in October 2015 and was waiting for some surgery to revise the failed hip and make life better again. Sadly this was not to be.

At the end of February 2016, almost a year to the day, and once my blood pressure reduced to an acceptable level, I had revision surgery on my left hip. Unfortunately the wound did not heal and 10 days later I was taken to hospital with a serious joint infection. I was in hospital almost a month with e coli mutations and on IV antibiotics through a PICC line. Low Hb meant doing further surgery was difficult.

It was April, and after a month of IV antibiotics at home and daily dressing changes for a copiously weeping wound with 4 sinuses, I went back into hospital for a Girdlestone procedure where the hip joint was removed completely. My surgeon put in a spacer to still give me a joint, but unfortunately this dislocated before I even got out of bed post x ray 48 hours later. Also, there were Gentomycin beads to try to target the infection. We looked forward to three months later when, hopefully, all would be well and a new joint put in.

In this time I kept quite optimistic and we even went as far as to book a holiday cottage which was wheelchair friendly. My bedroom had been moved downstairs to my office (The Growlery) and I had the company of my husband and mother-in-law for much of the late spring and early summer.

This also did not turn out as planned. Another sinus resurfaced and at the end of August I returned to hospital with a whole new set of infections in the joint – Klebsiela and Strep B. and another lengthy stay following surgery to remove the dislocated spacer and remaining beads – those that had not exploded all over our hall floor the night before, resulting in yet another trip in an ambulance. This time we had to cancel our holiday and I fell back into the black hole.

We hoped for three months of infection free and antibiotic free from the end of November, when the IV antibiotics finally stopped again and a promised date for surgery to put another new hip in and get mobile again. This is also not to be. I have little bone, tissue and no adductor muscle left after the many surgeries to clean out this joint. My surgeon is cautious at this stage about the increased risks of infection with no muscle protection, the difficulties of surgery and the possibilities of things going wrong at my (tender!!) age. He wants to do a biopsy to find out why fluid is yet again building up in that space, but won’t attempt a new joint again for at least another three months. This is the fourth lot of three months we are waiting.

Perhaps three months seems a sensible time for him to think we can wait. However, this time we are holding out little hope for anything being done anytime soon. Hopes being dashed so many times have left us all drained. So, with that in mind there are two choices. Go back down the same road and risk falling into the same black hole again, or choose a different road.

I think a new street, with different views is in order. Maybe it is a road I continue to take in a wheelchair. If so, then we need to find a house I can access on my own and not be confined to bedroom, living room and kitchen. I can’t even get in a shower without my husband – and that is in the downstairs guest room – and haven’t seen the upstairs of my own house since April last year. I need to live somewhere where I can get out on my own, with no steps and no need to be lifted in and out, so completely reliant again on my husband. He is at work 27 miles away full time, so a lot of time is spent alone. I have businesses I can partly run online, so will concentrate on those parts. I will try to write every day and maybe one day have the courage to write the books that I have thought of for so long. I will look for holiday cottages that have wheelchair access so we can go away together this year. It may not be Italy as we hoped and it may be booked the weekend we go – just in case! – but it is part of the plan.

So this new street has estate agent windows to look into, travel agents, books to read and research, people to talk to online and anything else that will help me lift my mood and look forward to my life as it is now.

The black hole

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I came across this poem the other day.

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

By Portia Nelson

I

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place
but, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.

Copyright (c) 1993, by Portia Nelson from the book There’s A Hole in My Sidewalk. Reproduced with kind permission from Beyond Words Publishing, Hillsboro, Oregon.

I’ve been walking down other streets for a while now. Cheerfulness Street; Hope Street; Gratitude Street; It Is What It Is Street – always finding myself at this crossroads and choosing a different way. It’s always been there lurking though. A few days ago I suddenly found myself back here though. I would have chosen to walk around the hole perhaps, but last night I fell in. 

I’m not inexperienced – I have steps in my hole – I can climb out usually, but it feels too enticing to just stay here in the dark, and the steps to get out are slippery.

It didn’t take much to tip the balance either. A couple of weeks of not getting out at all (on top of four months of being stuck in the same house, same room, same chair day in day out), my husband away at the weekend so extra time on my own, a reminder that my weekend might have been broken up by visitors – except I don’t know anyone here and so don’t see anyone, and my husband announcing he both was going to be spending time indefinitely further away from the work site we expected and that he had to be there for an earlier meeting today. Just 1/2 hour extra time alone – but that’s all it took. The little jab that lost me my balance and pulled me in. The realisation – the truth of the situation I am in – I am housebound, alone and isolated. The only people I have are my husband at work, who could do without this, my son who I am supposed to be carer for, and the cat who only  really cares for whoever can bend down and feed her. I was even shouting at her yesterday for running in and out of the house, making me get up and open and close doors. The truth is perhaps that I was envious that she could run in and out of doors and visit different places.

It’s not a good week. On Monday I was supposed, finally four months after dislocations, to have the first of my surgery and have the hip that repeatedly dislocated revised. The metal levels in my blood, the damage to both hips seen on MRI, the repeated dislocations, all added up to getting it, then the other hip, out as soon as possible. Except my blood pressure is unexpectedly dangerously high. No amount of – but it could be the metal causing this, you could do a spinal so my BP drops – was going to sway the surgeon and the anaesthetist.

So here I still am – still waiting, still on my own, still not able to complete an entire task on my own, still on hippy rules, still waiting for that next misstep that dislocates one or other hip. Still in my black hole looking for the energy and motivation again to get out.

Or even just a friendly helping hand.

Dislocation nightmare

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Our parents were here for a fortnight. We went out visiting places and all was fine. They went home on the morning of the 16th just before I saw a client – all well so far. I took my son to the gym in the afternoon and decided to do my Pilates and physio exercises on the mats instead of walking. My left hip has always felt weaker than my right and so I try to keep the exercises up to strengthen it, even though they never seemed to be progressing much. That hip has always been a bit clunky too, and a few weeks ago I bent down to feed the cat and said to my husband there was something wrong – it felt as though it was popping in and out of the joint. Anyway, it clucked quite a lot during the exercise, but felt better once I’d finished. We drove home (in the mini!!) I went up to change out of gym clothes, bent down to take off my socks – and my hip dislocated.
It was quite a farce really. My son, who has autism, went next door to get my neighbour who is a nurse and she phoned for an ambulance. My quite small bedroom, with me on my side in 18 inches between the bed and the wardrobes and 2 ambulance personel and 2 paramedics in my room trying to give me morphine and work out how to get me downstairs, with my son carrying on as normal and getting his tea and the cat popping in to see what was going on. The concern was that, instead of 5 minutes away that day, my husband was 50 miles away and uncontactable until at least 4pm. As it turned out my son wasn’t able to get him until after 6pm. The neighbours took it in turns to come and check on him until he got home.
I had surgery on Saturday morning to put it back in and then found I had ‘bed rest’ but no explanation scrawled across my notes. I had been hoping once it was back in I was going home! Especially as I was on a general surgery ward and not orthopaedics, so no one knew what to do with me. Sunday morning I was visited finally by the surgeon who gave me the ‘good news’. Firstly because it had come out once, it would be more likely to do it again and secondly when they tested it in theatre in 2 particular positions it popped back out every time. I have an unstable hip. I saw a physio, they decided I was fine to go home but would need follow up. I was told if it came out again it would need to be a complete revision (replacement) of the hip.
Monday, we’d had supper, my husband took off my boots for me, I moved myself back on the settee – and it came out again. Almost a repeat of Friday as we don’t have a great deal of space in our living room either – too much ‘stuff’!! The ambulance crew eventually got me out and back to hospital where I spent the next 3 hours or so on a trolley in the corridor and the following 10 hours on the same trolley in a cubical. They certainly have some issues! I saw a doctor who was saying that late hip dislocation was usually down to soft tissue areas and I rather took offence (must have been the morphine!!) as I took it that he thought I hadn’t been doing any exercise with it and had allowed it to become weak (as it happens it may be the complete opposite – more of that in a minute), and they were just going to put it back in again and send me home. Not being great with pain I was rather afraid of this as it felt that it was just going home to wait for it to happen again – and in many ways it is. 
Tuesday, after an hour and a half wait for morphine, I was taken to a ward and told that I was not having surgery after all that day. I promptly burst into tears – I’d certainly lost my sense of humour by then. It did mean I could be consoled with a baked potato – until Sister turned up ranting because another Sister had a go at her – I was supposed to be in theatre and couldn’t go now. A doctor had quiet clearly written in my notes ‘no surgery – can eat and drink’ (I saw the notes) but had misunderstood when I had been talking with the senior surgeon that morning and thought they weren’t doing the manipulation after all but waiting for a replacement. I finally got to theatre on Wednesday and had it put back in. The up side, if there is one, is that there was a hip specialist able to pop in and I am now under his care. Trouble is, he wanted me in hospital until MRI scans and blood tests were done and I had supervised mobilisation, and possibly a brace.
None of that was possible. On Thursday everything went wrong on the ward and they desperately needed the beds. Two hours before my 24 hour bed rest was up I was dressed and sitting in the corridor waiting for my husband to pick me up while they prepped my bed for someone else. Physio said – walk unaided, yes you can swim, do your exercises, I guess you’re fine with stairs. Consultant said – crutches, no swimming, we’ll take blood, try to keep the hip in and I’ll see you in my clinic next week. As an outpatient rather than an inpatient I’ll have to wait considerably longer for the MRI. Mmmm!
The issue it seems is indeed probably soft tissue. I had a metal on metal Birmingham Hip Resurfacing (BHR) as these were being done for younger people who were still going to be able to be fully mobile. There now seems to be some evidence that the are failing in women. The metal when used is rubbing together and producing ionisation, found in the blood and causing toxicity issues (I had other problems with nerve pain and shakiness in my arms, which may now it seems be linked) and erosion of the soft tissues around the joint. This means the hip will not stay in and I am on extra strict hippy rules – no bending, twisting, allowing less than 90 degrees between my legs and torso, allowing my left leg to drift anywhere close to the centre of my body – or it will come out. Other issues involved might be my hyper mobility in my joints and also the way it was put in in the first place. Any and all of these might contribute and my husband has written to the surgeon who did the replacements in the first place.
So my husband is doing limited hours at work. My son can’t get out except for their photography course together. I’m in a chair trying not to move and doing as much of my work as possible by e mail. The joys of the hippy journey!




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Hippy 1st Birthday

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It was the first birthday of my right hip yesterday – 48 and a bit years behind the rest of me. birthday cakeThe celebrations started with 60 lengths of the swimming pool followed by dragging my hoola hoop, not used for some time, out of the garage and into the sunny garden where I at first tentatively tried it out to see if I could still do it. 100 rotations both clockwise and anti clockwise later I reckon those hips are up to it again! After supper there was an extra walk around the football field, mapped by map my walk – although unfortunately by this time I was already very tired and it was a rather painful walk back, a sleepless night and a very stiff me who got up this morning.

I had thought we might go out last night to celebrate. I suggested to my husband the night before that we might go out and reminded him that it was my hip’s first birthday. I guess either he didn’t take me or the life changing thing for me that is my hip replacements and arthritis seriously because he conveniently forgot. I was a bit – ok a lot – upset at this, but I was certainly not going to remind him again if he couldn’t be bothered to hear me the first time. This happens a lot. Work seems to take priority and while it pays the bills and I contribute very little, it does appear to be on his mind considerably more than we are.

The thing is I don’t really know how to explain to him, or anyone else, what this is like. As I’ve said before, my mother has just decided I’m like her and she just had to put up with it so so do I, so she rarely asks about me and if she does mention it she tells me what I am like and doesn’t stop to listen to me. I accept I may shut people out and so they don’t ask me, but to tell them how I feel makes me vulnerable, and if I’m vulnerable then I’m hurt when they don’t hear me, and so rather than risk that I hide when what I would really like is someone, my husband for example, to say – yes I know this is hard, let’s do this or that to help you.

Cooking for example in the evenings. It hurts to stand for long, so usually I prepare a meal throughout the day just to finish later. I work from home and rarely go out anywhere. He goes out to work and will also have nights out with work occasionally, so to go out for me is a huge treat, but not for him. So a night where I have thought we might go out and then don’t not only is disappointing in him forgetting or not wanting to go, but I then have to prepare a meal and clear up all in one go and am in pain.

I never really understood previously that I was in pain. It is a strange thing. I read about others talking about agony, but it’s not like that for me. In some ways it is more insidious. I wondered for years if I had chronic fatigue or a constant flu, because that is what it is like. The ache in my bones is just like a really bad dose of flu. The fatigue that comes with it makes it difficult to concentrate and is trying to my patience. My husband would ask why I was huffing and complaining and I would say something hurt and he didn’t understand. I didn’t really understand myself – I was just exhausted. The diagnoses I have had have been a revaluation in understanding what is wrong – that there is something wrong in fact – and for my husband to realise that there may be a reason for my not wanting to or being able to do all the things I used to other than me just being unsociable or difficult. Now a bit less is expected of me. Less of a label and more of a signpost.

This has made my husband sound awful, and that’s not true, but he puts a lot of pressure on himself over work and money and rather takes me for granted because I’m always here. The pressure on him and my inability to look forward any more and see a way of seriously contributing makes me feel guilty. He also has a knack of talking now about not being able to do things anymore as though somehow with my diagnoses my life is over instead of just coming up with different things and ways around it. But that’s another story – even though this is the one that kept me awake all night. 

So I would have liked to celebrate a bit more than I did. For me having my joints replaced and having a chronic pain condition that is getting worse is a huge thing. But I guess that’s just me! cat_animal

Doing the best I can.

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I read a blog today by a lady called Toni Bernhard. I’m not intending to copy as we all have our own stories, but her headings made such a lot of sense – and so I hope she  won’t mind if I use them. Chronic pain, chronic illness – there are hundreds and hundreds – and many more people who suffer day and year in and out. Mine is specifically arthritis – and a severe and chronic mobility and pain issue that seems to have crept up on me so fast I still can’t quite believe it.

We mostly all have people who do a lot for us – my amazing people are my husband and my son, and also people I have met through forums or friends on Facebook, who know what is happening and always comment positively to lift my spirits, and to those people I am endlessly grateful.

However, Toni is right – there are things you really wish you could say, but don’t.

1. The grief I feel over the life I’ve lost.

It is one of those major life stressors, like death, loss, separation, moving away – endings of  all kinds.

There is a lot to grieve over, yet I didn’t really know that until now. My parents had many chronic health issues between them. I thought I’d avoided them all. And I certainly never considered grief. Surely getting to retire early is a bonus!

Now I know that there is a lot to grieve over — I’m pleased I trained to work online, because if I’d still been a teacher, for example, I would have had to leave work altogether. There is the loss of income, not being able to go out alone, the loss of independence, saying goodbye to any real activity – I’ll probably never get back up a mountain, manage the boat, join in runs or hikes or activities that others write or speak about and take for granted, and it’s lonely. My life is changed forever. There is a big dark hole where ‘I’ used to be.

Mostly I’m fine. It’s not like losing a partner or a child to death. At least I have a life and I intend to make the best I can of it. Most days are good and I can laugh and joke and be upbeat about this. If someone asks how I am of course “I’m fine” – the most widely told lie. But sometimes it just comes out of the blue. Something is said, or read, or seen, or thought and suddenly there are tears – where did they come from?! And it can be terribly intense.

It’s the whole process – and we’ll go with the Kubler-Ross 5-stage model here.

Denial – this isn’t happening to me. It’s a mistake. The scans are wrong. It’s not as bad for me as for others. Anything to shut out the magnitude of what has just been dropped on us.

Anger – “why me?”, “This just isn’t fair!”. Why not? It has to be someone – ok that doesn’t help, but that’s what I’ve been telling myself. I don’t know who I’m angry with. Actually there’s only me – there isn’t anyone else I can be angry with.

Bargaining – anything to extend things. Having replacements can fall into this category – I have new hips and am about to have a new knee – but whenever I have something replaced something else seems to be wrong.

Depression – “What’s the point?” I can’t do things, why bother trying? This is when I start to avoid people and things.

Acceptance – looking forward to this one!

And there is always someone worse of isn’t there? Well of course there is – but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. 

2. I feel as if I’m letting you down.

My husband is great. However, I do wonder why he would want to be with me – especially now. I’m more trouble than I’m worth like this. My son – I try to do what I can with him but I feel guilty when he needs attention, wants to go out and do things – it’s so rare! – that I feel terrible if I just can’t do the things I used to not so very long ago.

I feel I need to apologise for not being able to join in, for being in pain, for being too tired (and arthritis and pain make you unbelievably tired!) 

I feel as though my pain and limited mobility, and that it is getting worse, has ended their lives too. I was there for them, and now the tables have turned.

I can no longer even pretend my prospects for contributing to the household income are going to get any better. Sometimes it feels as though hope has gone too.

As my mum says, well you just have to get on with it don’t you – you have no choice – everyone else needs looking after – I had to do it – I can do anything I put my mind to …. yes – that’s guaranteed to make me feel worse. Especially as she never asks how I am (because I’m just like her apparently so should just accept it as she does!), but will ask about my family (great 🙂 ) or tell me about my brothers whose lives are falling apart as a result of their own behaviour and attitudes (not so great 😦 )

3. A chronic condition can be embarrassing.

I  always set unrealistically high expectations for myself and then judge myself negatively when I can’t meet those standards. I’m a perfectionist. But I’m trying to get better 🙂 

We live in a culture that repeatedly tells us we need not be sick or in pain. Also, we have this British stiff upper lip – we pull ourselves up and just get on with things and don’t complain. 

Guilt creeps in too – as though I did this to myself and it’s my fault I can no longer be the person others expect me to be. Do they expect it? – or is that another unrealistic expectation of my own?

When I am asked to do something I have to now think about whether I can. I have always wanted to go to Italy, among other places. I’ve never been abroad beyond 4 days in Paris where i was pregnant and ill, and 4 days in Disneyland Paris where my son was ill. The opportunity was finally raised and I’m having to say no. There are all sorts of places I would like to go and see, but I can’t walk there or around them. To do it my husband would have to take me in a wheelchair – not fair on him. We’d be in the way of others – not fair on them. I’d slow everyone down.

And in a future where we try to keep our private lives private, I’d have to declare to the world my most inner secrets of my health – that I am in pain, I am stiff and sore and can’t move or stand or walk. It’s like saying I’m old, fat, unhealthy – but it’s my own fault – I should be young, slim, fit and up for anything.

Now I feel guilty because I have someone else to clean my house, touching my things, being in my space – because I can’t do it myself, but in telling others I feel it makes me sound snobby – as though cleaning my own house is beneath me. I can’t go out to work any more. Online work is limited and I will never earn a great deal of money. The pressure is on my husband to work, look after us, look after me! – and also earn enough somehow to get us a home of our own and keep the household going. I feel helpless in the pressure he has on him because of me. However, if I had a choice, I would certainly be independent. Being dependent is not something I would wish on anyone – that feeling of not being entitled and having to ask for things when you don’t earn or have the ability to do it for yourself.

So to my husband and son – I love you – I don’t want to be like this and I am grateful for all you do for me. But it sad, and embarrassing and lonely here. I feel I should be better for you – and I’m doing the best I can.

 

Letting the light in.

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Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.

Leonard Cohen

This quote was at the end of an email I received today and it just fits so nicely with so many things in my life just now.

One thing is a course I’m doing in supervision. I know I can do it, but I’m struggling regardless. Unless everything is perfect and I’m meeting every learning objective I’m finding it impossible to write at all, and so prevaricating. I may be doing a bit of that with these blog posts too. Unless everything is perfect I’m just now doing it – and of course things are not perfect. One of the things I have been doing to counteract this perfectionist streak in myself is to work through Overcoming Perfectionism by Sarah Egan and Roz Shafran. Of course by reading the book I’m also avoiding doing the things I have to do, but just starting it and getting an idea of why I am like this is a help.

Then I came across this quote by Leonard Cohen this morning and thought it was about time that I did something, and if it’s not writing an essay and a case study then it should at least be catching up on some e mails and writing up this blog!

I go quiet when things are not right. When it sounds as though I am whinging and complaining, because this does not make me the nice, calm and easy going person I want to be. When I am admitting to problems because then I am not perfect – I am vulnerable and people can see my cracks.

Since getting the diagnosis on my spine from the MRI I have been to the GP and am being referred to a spinal specialist. It seems thought that there is a very long waiting list as the usual person for referral is in Birmingham but just comes down here to do some work, where there is no specialist at all. What I have received is an appointment for ICAT. I have absolutely no idea what that means. I also found when I received the letter I couldn’t get through to change the appointment – it was set at precisely the time I will be in theatre having my knee replaced. That’s going to make it rather tricky to get there! I did get through this morning though, and a rather pleasant young man explained that it is something between physio and specialist. They do examinations and exercises (that’s going to be interesting 1 week after a knee replacement), x rays and MRIs if necessary. he seemed a bit surprised that his had happened already, so I get the impression that this is an appointment to prioritise people and get the actual list for the specialist down.

My left knee replacement is 3 weeks today. My knee was damaged in 1983, so I suppose it has been a long time coming. I remember having back ache from quite some time ago, although yoga always helped, and later when I had a bit more money, massage. However, it does feel as though, even when it clearly has been on the downward slope for a very long time, that the deterioration of my joints has speeded up considerably. I wonder if it is so quick sometimes, or whether it is because I am now aware that I notice other things. The pain in my neck to left shoulder I saw physio for a couple of years back and still comes and goes – is this actually linked to spinal problems? If so, is there also a problem further up my spine or is it down to the canal stenosis? Would my back hurt so much if I didn’t know there was something wrong with it? r would it hurt but I would still be blaming my hip surgery? Am I noticing the pain in my right knee now because I low that my left needs to be replaced? Is it going to be worse when I no longer have the ever present pain in my left knee?

And pain anyway. My neighbour broke her leg recently and had to have it pinned. She has been non weight bearing for weeks and is in pain. She is managing on paracetamol though. Is she in so much pain because it is sudden and recent? Is it worse than mine? Or am I just used to my pain because it has gradually got worse over a number of years? My mum has a morphine patch. She says she has no pain now, only stiffness. Am I just in pain because I know something is wrong? Would I disregard it if I didn’t have diagnoses or if I had been told there was nothing wrong with me? Of course – then I guess I wouldn’t have pain! Sometimes I think it isn’t too bad. Btu when the GP told me that the government were going to make Tramadol a controlled drug, she would not be able to give me so much and could I manage on paracetamol I burst into tears. I always thought I had a high pain threshold. I had my son with only gas and air and deep breathing. Is my pain as bad as others? Or should I be managing better than this? So many questions!

I have had some days over the past few weeks that have been tearful ‘why me?’ days. It does seem unfair that all these things should be so bad at my age. I am worried and afraid about the future – especially as I am my son’s carer and now my husband is probably always going to be the only ‘breadwinner’. I feel I can no longer look forward to holidays abroad, climbing mountains, walking – all things I wanted to or enjoyed doing. Perhaps if my replacements had gone well then I would be looking up and not seeing the next thing to have to deal with but the light at the end of the tunnel.

Which was why I latched onto that quote this morning. Maybe I don’t have t wait until the end of the tunnel for the light at all. I’m not perfect unfortunately. I seem to have ever more cracks. But then, if that is the way the light will get in quicker, then perhaps that’s not so bad.

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The first year

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It’s a year today since my first blog post. At that time I had just learned that I had severe bone on bone osteoarthritis in both hips and my left knee. My surgeon said replacements were the only way forwards.

Since then there have been ups and downs as re reading through any of my blogs shows. Ultimately mostly it is ups.

How have things been since I last wrote here a month ago? Well, I’m still waiting for my MRI results on my spine as the appointment keeps being cancelled and changed. I haven’t decided what to do with my knee yet, and am waiting for this result to make a more informed decision, though we’ll probably wait until next spring. I have a 2 week holiday in Devon in August (yippee!), my 50 birthday in October (I have a 100 year plan, so just hitting middle age now!!) and my 25th wedding anniversary at Christmas, so lots of things to celebrate.

My hips are, I think getting better. I am walking about 2.5km a day or swimming almost a mile. Admittedly the walking is with poles to try to keep my back upright. It wants to bend and if I straighten my back my knees bend instead. I can lie for a short time on my left side, and a bit longer on my right, though this I guess is more a feature of whatever is wrong with my spine rather than my hips. The pain in my back and knee does wake me regularly. I sleep with a pillow under my knees, which my physio didn’t like at all, but I do take it out and spend at least 30 minutes x 2 in 24 hours lying completely flat and also still do my knee exercises.

I can sit with my legs crossed now, but still not cross legged on the floor. I’m working on that one, though each time I do I expect to pop my hips out. I can reach my feet if I bend but I can’t lift my legs any more to, for example, wash my feet.

I think some of my back problem may be due to putting the hips in their correct orientation. Maybe I should have stayed crooked! If I think about it, I have had problems with my back for years, but it was ok and yoga or a massage usually fixed it for a while. I’m still doing my plank, but I can’t get over a minute 😦

Being in pain is tiring, but it’s mostly under control now. I still have pain but it is manageable with 3 tramadol and 3 ibuprofen a day, with an extra tramadol on bad days.

I can still mostly only go up and down stairs one at a time, though sometimes with support on both sides I can do it continuously. The problem here though is mostly my knee, not my hips any longer.

On the other hand, a couple of weeks ago we decided we were going to go out on our canal boat for a long weekend. We hadn’t thought I would ever manage again and put it up for sale, though it hasn’t yet sold. However, we developed a system. Getting on and off and down the steps was really not any different to getting in and out of the swimming pool. At locks my husband got off and held the boat until my son came to take over. He did the lock gates and when almost ready my son pushed me off the bank and I did the steering in while my son went to help his dad. It was like I’d never been away. Not a single bump! Everything went smoothly. After the lock was full or empty I held the boat still while they closed the gates and hopped on. The only accident in the whole weekend? Falling over in the bath. A nice new set of bruises to highlight the scars 🙂

So many changes. Would I do it all again if I knew last year what I know now? There have been times when I would have said no, but overall the answer is yes.

Still plenty of changes to go yet though! thinking