Oh yes indeedy! Lately I've been weighing the relative merits of going in blind to this type of undertaking versus knowing what to expect. I think the distinction is really that between fear and dread. I'm not particularly scared this time around, but I am really really really not looking forward to going through it all again. Poop. But! Meanwhile my post-op hip is treating me fantastically, which is a good motivator for RPAO as well. Until recently my right hip has remained relatively asymptomatic, save for some incessant popping that only started after my LPAO. The past few days, though, have slayed me with sciatic pain on the right side, something I also experienced early on after diagnosis when I was just sorting out all the weird ways my left side had been coping. (Even then it was only on the right side, which I guess is fairly common for sciatica.)
I saw Dr. Hoo yesterday in so much pain I wasn't sure I could get up off the table, but of course she picked up immediately on the source of the discomfort and went to work. When I finally did get up the pain was somehow even worse and I could barely get back into my car. An evening's relaxing with three Lidoderm patches and a good night's sleep seem to have allowed the NSA voodoo to work its magic, though, as I woke up this morning with nothing but a dull ache remaining. Great success! Also a fine reminder of what it's going to be like when I can't bend on the right side - nearly busted out my hip kit grabber, but I think I'll save that for when I'm back on crutches for real. :)
Showing posts with label PAO. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PAO. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
8 weeks pre-op
Really? Really. I just counted on my calendar! Sort of feel a bit like slamming my head in a door, but there you have it - RPAO, here I come!
My principal has been kind enough to grant me permission (or, as I just typed, "persimmon") to take the month of March off for the next chapter in my medical odyssey. As such, I will likely be on crutches for John & Ali's wedding, but decidedly NOT on crutches for the summer, which makes me OH-so-happy. Hopefully the timing will also coincide with a dramatic decrease in snowcover on the sidewalks - this is, at least, my master plan.
Unfortunately Dr. Kim is traveling a good deal these days, so the only pre-op appointment available to me is less than a week before my surgery date. Annette, his wonderful scheduler, said "Well, what if there's some reason why you can't have the procedure?" and I went "Errr...", thinking simultaneously "Well, then I won't have it?" and "What the hell reason could there possibly be?!" I can't think of one, but then I'm not, you know, a doctor.
Regardless, I am equal parts dreading going through all this again and elated to be getting it over with so soon. By the time I'm off crutches from this surgery I'll have spent 6 months of a year on the bastards. Truly worth it, though, I'm sure. Now that I've passed the 6 month post-LPAO mark I'm beginning to appreciate just how big an impact it's had. My leg is solid, stable - the joint is fluid and pain-free (aside from the continued nerve-regeneration pain, but that's GOOD pain!). I have a good leg! A leg to stand on! It is, in a word, awesome.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a bit pariah-esque because of all this - having to take a break from the bulk of my physical life for years now - but the alternative is a notion I can't begin to entertain. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to get better, no matter the cost. Let's DO this! :)
My principal has been kind enough to grant me permission (or, as I just typed, "persimmon") to take the month of March off for the next chapter in my medical odyssey. As such, I will likely be on crutches for John & Ali's wedding, but decidedly NOT on crutches for the summer, which makes me OH-so-happy. Hopefully the timing will also coincide with a dramatic decrease in snowcover on the sidewalks - this is, at least, my master plan.
Unfortunately Dr. Kim is traveling a good deal these days, so the only pre-op appointment available to me is less than a week before my surgery date. Annette, his wonderful scheduler, said "Well, what if there's some reason why you can't have the procedure?" and I went "Errr...", thinking simultaneously "Well, then I won't have it?" and "What the hell reason could there possibly be?!" I can't think of one, but then I'm not, you know, a doctor.
Regardless, I am equal parts dreading going through all this again and elated to be getting it over with so soon. By the time I'm off crutches from this surgery I'll have spent 6 months of a year on the bastards. Truly worth it, though, I'm sure. Now that I've passed the 6 month post-LPAO mark I'm beginning to appreciate just how big an impact it's had. My leg is solid, stable - the joint is fluid and pain-free (aside from the continued nerve-regeneration pain, but that's GOOD pain!). I have a good leg! A leg to stand on! It is, in a word, awesome.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a bit pariah-esque because of all this - having to take a break from the bulk of my physical life for years now - but the alternative is a notion I can't begin to entertain. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to get better, no matter the cost. Let's DO this! :)
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
3 weeks post-PAO
You'd think I'd forgotten about this place lately, but really I've just forgotten what day/week/month it is. Seriously, I have no sense of time. But even so I'm aware that 3 weeks ago this afternoon I was waking up in recovery, putting my tongue stud back in, and feeling comfortably numb (if a bit woozy). Hard to believe that the hospital stay that at first moved so slowly from my static position in bed actually lasted a mere 5 days before I was back in Vermont, eating maple creemees with my folks.
Hospital living was so outside my realm of experience that it's only in retrospect that I realize how completely strange it was. At most I had the same nurses for 2 shifts, so it was a revolving door of new faces endlessly taking my vitals, bringing me pills, refilling my water. The first two nights I was lucky enough to have Nadine, who not only appreciated my sense of humor (thankfully unmarred by surgery) but had one of her own, and called me "sweetpea", which is what I call Augustus when he's not chewing cords or running laps while I try to sleep. This is helpful when one's job is to wake up an exhausted person every 2 hours to lay a bag of ice at intervals down both sides of their body and make them say "cold", "cool", or "nothing" as appropriate.
I was also lucky enough to have a room of my own, and the window view to boot (most of what I could see being relatively parkish) and flowers from friends and a teddy bear (Cowbell, as in "I've got a fever [which I did] and the only cure is more") that I quickly became very attached to. I learned to account for lag time in asking for vital equipment like a trapeze or a walker early to allow for the inevitable half-day bureaucratic delay in delivery. This lesson was driven home waiting for the toilet riser to arrive once my catheter came out. I learned not to order the fish (kind of a "duh" moment, in hindsight) but that the veggie burgers were enormous and you won't get ketchup unless you ask for it. Life skills, I tell you what! :)
The epidural was perfect (kudos skilled anesthesiologist whose name I don't remember!) and kept me well insulted from pain for as long as it was supposed to. I hadn't taken into account how difficult sitting up would be with a numb midsection, most of the reason why I nearly pulled my epidural out in all my scootings and squirmings before the trapeze arrived. I learned the power of the boost, when a nurse takes either side of the pad you're laying on and slides you right up to the top of the bed - THAT was awesome. I learned that without it your feet end up resting on the metal bar across the end of the bed, and that that, coupled with the epidural's numbness, will lead to bedsores (which thankfully I was spared) if you're not careful. I learned that having a drain pulled out and having a catheter pulled out are equally bizarre sensations, but the drain actually hurts, whereas the catheter is only uncomfortable. And that you should ask for the commode chair well before committing to catheter removal. I may have mentioned this before - it's a lesson I've learned well! :)
Going to the bathroom (as in physically getting myself in there and sitting down) was by far the most painful aspect (aside from rolling over to change the sheets under me - NOT for the faint of heart!) and complicated by the fact that my equilibrium was totally screwy. I'm glad the bathroom door was about 6 inches from my knees so that when I stood up I just bounced my head off of it instead of toppling to the floor. I can't quite explain the joy of being able to go in there, shut the door and just be ALONE after feeling like I was living in a glorified hallway for days on end. Oh, the simple pleasures!
I can't say enough about the BI staff and the care I received there - I always felt well looked-after and everyone I encountered was very kind. I can't thank my mother enough for staying with me for the duration, even though she commented more than once that she might as well have stayed home for all I "needed" from her. Just having her sitting there reading a book was enough most days, though the burrito she brought me for dinner halfway through my stay made her presence invaluable.
Since I've been home (or at least in my former home), I've been doing dandily - my bandage and steristrips have all been off for about a week now and, though it's considerably more gruesome than I'd anticipated (not to mention long as hell), my incision seems to be healing nicely. The tenderness along it is subsiding, along with the numbness in my upper thigh and the side of my hip, though that's receding slower than I'd thought/hoped it would. Last Friday I was able to sleep on my (right) side for the first time and it was VERY strange - the whole balance of my midsection is completely different (don't make me waste one of my duh's, as Bev would say) but it's comfortable, though rolling back over onto my back is a little difficult. Oooh and last night for the first time I lifted my op leg onto the bed without using my hands! Woohoo! I did it without even thinking and then went "Hey! My leg's on the bed! Sweeeeet."
My parents leave for 2 weeks at our place on PEI tomorrow and in anticipation I've been cooking more and more for myself without too many problems, though I did drop a bucket of raspberry sorbet (sing it like Prince!) on the floor the other day and ended up laughing hysterically as I tried (and failed) to pick it back up again and again with my crutches. I've learned that having my grabber with me (and a chair in the room) is key for safe and effective meal preparation.
And, though my mom is insanely restrictive in her assessment(s) of what I can and cannot do, I've been out on the town three times in the last week (not counting last night's long-awaited trip to the pharmacy) and have fared very well. This weekend I hope to make my triumphant return to civil society with some parade-and-fireworks action at John & Ali's in Hinesburg - we'll see how long I last without having to take a nap. :)
All in all the experience has been FAR less horrendous, painful, and frustrating than I ever thought it would be. Good thing I was consumed with it for 9+ months, right?! In two weeks I return to Childrens in Waltham for my post-op and get to see if the ol' pelvis is healing according to plan. I'm no expert (on anything, really), but I do suspect the results will be favorable!
And now, back to my It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia marathon, already in progress. I'm gonna rise up, gonna kick a little ass, gonna kick some ass in the USA. Gonna climb a mountain, gonna sew a flag, gonna fly on an eagle. I'm gonna kick some butt, I'm gonna drive a big truck, I'm gonna rule this world, I'm gonna kick some ass, I'm gonna rise up, I'm gonna kick a little ass, ROCK, FLAG, AND EAGLE!!
Hospital living was so outside my realm of experience that it's only in retrospect that I realize how completely strange it was. At most I had the same nurses for 2 shifts, so it was a revolving door of new faces endlessly taking my vitals, bringing me pills, refilling my water. The first two nights I was lucky enough to have Nadine, who not only appreciated my sense of humor (thankfully unmarred by surgery) but had one of her own, and called me "sweetpea", which is what I call Augustus when he's not chewing cords or running laps while I try to sleep. This is helpful when one's job is to wake up an exhausted person every 2 hours to lay a bag of ice at intervals down both sides of their body and make them say "cold", "cool", or "nothing" as appropriate.
I was also lucky enough to have a room of my own, and the window view to boot (most of what I could see being relatively parkish) and flowers from friends and a teddy bear (Cowbell, as in "I've got a fever [which I did] and the only cure is more") that I quickly became very attached to. I learned to account for lag time in asking for vital equipment like a trapeze or a walker early to allow for the inevitable half-day bureaucratic delay in delivery. This lesson was driven home waiting for the toilet riser to arrive once my catheter came out. I learned not to order the fish (kind of a "duh" moment, in hindsight) but that the veggie burgers were enormous and you won't get ketchup unless you ask for it. Life skills, I tell you what! :)
The epidural was perfect (kudos skilled anesthesiologist whose name I don't remember!) and kept me well insulted from pain for as long as it was supposed to. I hadn't taken into account how difficult sitting up would be with a numb midsection, most of the reason why I nearly pulled my epidural out in all my scootings and squirmings before the trapeze arrived. I learned the power of the boost, when a nurse takes either side of the pad you're laying on and slides you right up to the top of the bed - THAT was awesome. I learned that without it your feet end up resting on the metal bar across the end of the bed, and that that, coupled with the epidural's numbness, will lead to bedsores (which thankfully I was spared) if you're not careful. I learned that having a drain pulled out and having a catheter pulled out are equally bizarre sensations, but the drain actually hurts, whereas the catheter is only uncomfortable. And that you should ask for the commode chair well before committing to catheter removal. I may have mentioned this before - it's a lesson I've learned well! :)
Going to the bathroom (as in physically getting myself in there and sitting down) was by far the most painful aspect (aside from rolling over to change the sheets under me - NOT for the faint of heart!) and complicated by the fact that my equilibrium was totally screwy. I'm glad the bathroom door was about 6 inches from my knees so that when I stood up I just bounced my head off of it instead of toppling to the floor. I can't quite explain the joy of being able to go in there, shut the door and just be ALONE after feeling like I was living in a glorified hallway for days on end. Oh, the simple pleasures!
I can't say enough about the BI staff and the care I received there - I always felt well looked-after and everyone I encountered was very kind. I can't thank my mother enough for staying with me for the duration, even though she commented more than once that she might as well have stayed home for all I "needed" from her. Just having her sitting there reading a book was enough most days, though the burrito she brought me for dinner halfway through my stay made her presence invaluable.
Since I've been home (or at least in my former home), I've been doing dandily - my bandage and steristrips have all been off for about a week now and, though it's considerably more gruesome than I'd anticipated (not to mention long as hell), my incision seems to be healing nicely. The tenderness along it is subsiding, along with the numbness in my upper thigh and the side of my hip, though that's receding slower than I'd thought/hoped it would. Last Friday I was able to sleep on my (right) side for the first time and it was VERY strange - the whole balance of my midsection is completely different (don't make me waste one of my duh's, as Bev would say) but it's comfortable, though rolling back over onto my back is a little difficult. Oooh and last night for the first time I lifted my op leg onto the bed without using my hands! Woohoo! I did it without even thinking and then went "Hey! My leg's on the bed! Sweeeeet."
My parents leave for 2 weeks at our place on PEI tomorrow and in anticipation I've been cooking more and more for myself without too many problems, though I did drop a bucket of raspberry sorbet (sing it like Prince!) on the floor the other day and ended up laughing hysterically as I tried (and failed) to pick it back up again and again with my crutches. I've learned that having my grabber with me (and a chair in the room) is key for safe and effective meal preparation.
And, though my mom is insanely restrictive in her assessment(s) of what I can and cannot do, I've been out on the town three times in the last week (not counting last night's long-awaited trip to the pharmacy) and have fared very well. This weekend I hope to make my triumphant return to civil society with some parade-and-fireworks action at John & Ali's in Hinesburg - we'll see how long I last without having to take a nap. :)
All in all the experience has been FAR less horrendous, painful, and frustrating than I ever thought it would be. Good thing I was consumed with it for 9+ months, right?! In two weeks I return to Childrens in Waltham for my post-op and get to see if the ol' pelvis is healing according to plan. I'm no expert (on anything, really), but I do suspect the results will be favorable!
And now, back to my It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia marathon, already in progress. I'm gonna rise up, gonna kick a little ass, gonna kick some ass in the USA. Gonna climb a mountain, gonna sew a flag, gonna fly on an eagle. I'm gonna kick some butt, I'm gonna drive a big truck, I'm gonna rule this world, I'm gonna kick some ass, I'm gonna rise up, I'm gonna kick a little ass, ROCK, FLAG, AND EAGLE!!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
1 week post-PAO
First off let me say that my sense of time is pretty much nonexistent at this point, so please forgive any continuity errors in my narrative. But I'm certain I've been out of the hospital since Monday afternoon, and sleeping pretty much nonstop (when not watching The Sopranos) since. Geez, where to begin?!
I guess Monday morning I saw another PT who made it her goal to get me away from my toe-scrunching method of moving my left foot while on crutches. To start, she had to physically pick up my left heel and advance the foot for me, but about halfway down the hall I started being able to do it on my own and by the time we were headed back to the room (2 chair breaks and 5 stairs later) I was picking the whole foot up in as close a semblance of a normal step as I was able to muster. It's really incredible what the body's able to do - muscle memory and whatnot. To clarify, in order to perform the PAO the surgeons had to sever all the muscles, nerves and tendons across the front of my thigh to get to the bone and reattach them - understandably there's a bit of a lag in them becoming fully (or even partially) functional again. The biggest hurdle is the tendon that runs along the back of your leg, and right across the biggest cut made in the pelvis - it's the one that allows you to lift your leg up (something I'm still doing manually, despite other improvements) and because of the new bone ledge created by moving the piece of my pelvis that was removed, the thing that pops over and over again deep inside the joint (I'm reassured that's normal body mechanics!).
The time when the non-functionality of said tendon is most evident is getting back into bed. I pretty quickly mastered the art of using my good leg to move my bad, but getting the full weight of that left thigh up onto the mattress, even using both hands and extra support, was by far the most painful movement post-op. Ehm... along with, you know, sitting up, moving, etc. :) Days later, it still hurts, for sure, but nowhere near as badly and I don't need 5 minutes rest to recover once I've successfully repositioned myself. Thankfully, after several nights of mind-blowingly confusing and detailed dreams, followed by soaking sweat and pounding headache, I've figured my pain meds regimen out to where things are a bit more normal, though I still have by far the strangest dreams of my life - the other night actually involving pink elephants. hahaha I told my mom about it and she again warned about abusing my meds lest they have to deal with a "hop-head" on their hands. :)
That said, my ease of mobility, though still very limited and tiring, is worlds away from just a couple of days ago and my folks are duly impressed, though my mom is daily telling me that I'm "doing too much" - yesterday she said this to me when I'd literally been awake for a sum total of 3 hours (or, as I like to count them, episodes of Sopranos) and moved from bed only to go to the bathroom... TWICE! The setup here at my folks (in addition to the marvel of having them here to make me food) is pretty much perfect - they've got a hospital bed set up for me in the old living room with a view out the atrium door looking right at the ever-busy hummingbird feeder, I've got wireless (which thankfully just started working again!) and a bathroom just far enough away to make it a good leg-stretching distance but with a toilet high enough that I haven't needed the extender seat thing on it conveniently located in an alcove for easy leveraging into and out of. Plus Augustus has access to perpetually-full water and dry food, so he's certainly not complaining!
Yesterday the dressing on my wound came off and nobody wants to see it! I think it's pretty badass (slash cringe-inducing) but both my parents have taken a pass on a peek. The incision itself is still covered in steristrips but fairly gruesome nonetheless at this stage of the game. Alas the amazing tape stuff they use basically pulled up my skin along one side, so I've got a couple actual bleedy spots in addition to the general itchiness of the exposed skin, but it's good to have it all open to the air finally. I gather the steristrips will come off over time, and then the real long-term cosmetic effects can be assessed. Not that I really give a hoot about the cosmetic effects on a part of my body that's almost never seen by anyone but me - the locomotive effects will be readily apparent to all and sundry!
Oooh, and let me tell you the coolest thing! Back when I started on this business several medical folks commented on how my left foot had a noticeable external rotation, most evident when I was lying down. When my first PT in the hospital met with me she pointed out how important it was to avoid that rotation (and any internal rotation) while healing, not least of all because it hurt like hell - she said I'd just need to put a towel or something along the outside of my leg to keep it straight on. Well, I did that for maybe three days and now my foot's straight as an arrow! Oh it's quite magical!
Hm... I'm sure I've missed something, but now that the internets are back to being my full-time friend, I'm sure I'll be back sooner rather than later. It's funny - I've been outside for a sum total of about 10 minutes in 2 weeks and it's not really bothering me yet - helps that it's raining today and my folks' house is pretty open. Just weird to not care AT ALL about the weather forecast for once. No offense Eye in the Sky Guys. :)
I guess Monday morning I saw another PT who made it her goal to get me away from my toe-scrunching method of moving my left foot while on crutches. To start, she had to physically pick up my left heel and advance the foot for me, but about halfway down the hall I started being able to do it on my own and by the time we were headed back to the room (2 chair breaks and 5 stairs later) I was picking the whole foot up in as close a semblance of a normal step as I was able to muster. It's really incredible what the body's able to do - muscle memory and whatnot. To clarify, in order to perform the PAO the surgeons had to sever all the muscles, nerves and tendons across the front of my thigh to get to the bone and reattach them - understandably there's a bit of a lag in them becoming fully (or even partially) functional again. The biggest hurdle is the tendon that runs along the back of your leg, and right across the biggest cut made in the pelvis - it's the one that allows you to lift your leg up (something I'm still doing manually, despite other improvements) and because of the new bone ledge created by moving the piece of my pelvis that was removed, the thing that pops over and over again deep inside the joint (I'm reassured that's normal body mechanics!).
The time when the non-functionality of said tendon is most evident is getting back into bed. I pretty quickly mastered the art of using my good leg to move my bad, but getting the full weight of that left thigh up onto the mattress, even using both hands and extra support, was by far the most painful movement post-op. Ehm... along with, you know, sitting up, moving, etc. :) Days later, it still hurts, for sure, but nowhere near as badly and I don't need 5 minutes rest to recover once I've successfully repositioned myself. Thankfully, after several nights of mind-blowingly confusing and detailed dreams, followed by soaking sweat and pounding headache, I've figured my pain meds regimen out to where things are a bit more normal, though I still have by far the strangest dreams of my life - the other night actually involving pink elephants. hahaha I told my mom about it and she again warned about abusing my meds lest they have to deal with a "hop-head" on their hands. :)
That said, my ease of mobility, though still very limited and tiring, is worlds away from just a couple of days ago and my folks are duly impressed, though my mom is daily telling me that I'm "doing too much" - yesterday she said this to me when I'd literally been awake for a sum total of 3 hours (or, as I like to count them, episodes of Sopranos) and moved from bed only to go to the bathroom... TWICE! The setup here at my folks (in addition to the marvel of having them here to make me food) is pretty much perfect - they've got a hospital bed set up for me in the old living room with a view out the atrium door looking right at the ever-busy hummingbird feeder, I've got wireless (which thankfully just started working again!) and a bathroom just far enough away to make it a good leg-stretching distance but with a toilet high enough that I haven't needed the extender seat thing on it conveniently located in an alcove for easy leveraging into and out of. Plus Augustus has access to perpetually-full water and dry food, so he's certainly not complaining!
Yesterday the dressing on my wound came off and nobody wants to see it! I think it's pretty badass (slash cringe-inducing) but both my parents have taken a pass on a peek. The incision itself is still covered in steristrips but fairly gruesome nonetheless at this stage of the game. Alas the amazing tape stuff they use basically pulled up my skin along one side, so I've got a couple actual bleedy spots in addition to the general itchiness of the exposed skin, but it's good to have it all open to the air finally. I gather the steristrips will come off over time, and then the real long-term cosmetic effects can be assessed. Not that I really give a hoot about the cosmetic effects on a part of my body that's almost never seen by anyone but me - the locomotive effects will be readily apparent to all and sundry!
Oooh, and let me tell you the coolest thing! Back when I started on this business several medical folks commented on how my left foot had a noticeable external rotation, most evident when I was lying down. When my first PT in the hospital met with me she pointed out how important it was to avoid that rotation (and any internal rotation) while healing, not least of all because it hurt like hell - she said I'd just need to put a towel or something along the outside of my leg to keep it straight on. Well, I did that for maybe three days and now my foot's straight as an arrow! Oh it's quite magical!
Hm... I'm sure I've missed something, but now that the internets are back to being my full-time friend, I'm sure I'll be back sooner rather than later. It's funny - I've been outside for a sum total of about 10 minutes in 2 weeks and it's not really bothering me yet - helps that it's raining today and my folks' house is pretty open. Just weird to not care AT ALL about the weather forecast for once. No offense Eye in the Sky Guys. :)
Thursday, June 11, 2009
It's ALLLIIIVE!!!
Well, I did it! Or, more to the point, Dr. Kim did. LPAO went off yesterday without a hitch, except that my sense of time is totally screwy, such that this morning I thought "I can't eat anything before surgery"... the surgery I had 24 hours ago, that is!
Anesthesia and meds don't seem to be messing me up too bad, though I did lose some of my water last night due to drinking a little too enthusiastically (story of my life!). I'm pretty out of it, though, thanks in no small part to being woken up every 2 hours last night to do "ice tests", basically seeing how much of my body the epidural is affecting. Seems to really be doing the trick, though, as I'm in absolutely no pain and only minor discomfort when I shift around or try to sit up more. Ah, except for the INCESSANT ITCHING, that is, which I guess is standard for epidurals - man it's annoying! Ooops and it's a good thing a coupla doctor-types just checked on me, because apparently my epidural bandage was coming off and the epidural was about to fall out! Good catch!
Otherwise I'm feeling pretty dandy, aside from not having eaten anything but my "clear liquid tray" since Tuesday night. I'll pretty much be coasting through the next couple days, then my epidural comes out probably Saturday, at which point the REAL fun begins! I'll be getting my unit of donated blood back before then, though, so hopefully it'll increase my stamina, if not my pain endurance! I'll surely be updating here as best I can, but for now signing off from Room 1278 in scenic BIDMC!
Anesthesia and meds don't seem to be messing me up too bad, though I did lose some of my water last night due to drinking a little too enthusiastically (story of my life!). I'm pretty out of it, though, thanks in no small part to being woken up every 2 hours last night to do "ice tests", basically seeing how much of my body the epidural is affecting. Seems to really be doing the trick, though, as I'm in absolutely no pain and only minor discomfort when I shift around or try to sit up more. Ah, except for the INCESSANT ITCHING, that is, which I guess is standard for epidurals - man it's annoying! Ooops and it's a good thing a coupla doctor-types just checked on me, because apparently my epidural bandage was coming off and the epidural was about to fall out! Good catch!
Otherwise I'm feeling pretty dandy, aside from not having eaten anything but my "clear liquid tray" since Tuesday night. I'll pretty much be coasting through the next couple days, then my epidural comes out probably Saturday, at which point the REAL fun begins! I'll be getting my unit of donated blood back before then, though, so hopefully it'll increase my stamina, if not my pain endurance! I'll surely be updating here as best I can, but for now signing off from Room 1278 in scenic BIDMC!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Ugh.
Well, my 4am jaunt down to Boston yesterday was very successful, though I discovered that traffic on 93 is just as bad at 7:15 in the morning as it is at 4:15 in the afternoon, when I left the city. The good news is that I had a little navigational mishap on the way out and still managed to get back on track by my wits alone (Garmin be damned!). The bad news is... yeah, I need another PAO. Dangitall! Somehow lo these many months I've been laboring under the false impression (slash hope) that since the right hip has been largely asymptomatic, I might get away with just the one PAO. But it is not to be so!
After my pre-op check-in business and blood donation (which went very well, if somewhat bruisingly), I had some more x-rays before seeing Erin, Dr. Kim's trusty PA. After initial pleasantries, she asked "So! Which hip do you want us to operate on?" and I felt like I'd been doused with icewater. "Uh... the left? The left's the one that bothers me." A moment passes and I say "So... the right? Is it your opinion that a PAO on the right is inevitable?" *holds breath* I even tried to get Dr. Kim to disagree with her when he came in, but no such luck. Honestly I was too exhausted yesterday to even begin to process the information, but getting up this morning was a bit of a stunner. Not that I don't have much more pressing matters to attend to at the moment!
The x-rays allowed Erin to calculate the coverage angles of each hip (how much of the femoral head [ball] is covered by the acetabulum [socket]). Ideally, these angles should be in the 20-degree range - my right is about 15 and my left a whopping NINE. Which explains why the left's been such an issue, and also why the right is a bit twingey, though still far behind the left in terms of discomfort. I asked Erin what degree of dysplasia I had and she said "I'd say... pretty bad." On a scale, of course, of Zero to Bad!
Meanwhile, the list of things I need to do before surgery isn't getting any shorter - at this point, I'm really looking forward to being sedated!
After my pre-op check-in business and blood donation (which went very well, if somewhat bruisingly), I had some more x-rays before seeing Erin, Dr. Kim's trusty PA. After initial pleasantries, she asked "So! Which hip do you want us to operate on?" and I felt like I'd been doused with icewater. "Uh... the left? The left's the one that bothers me." A moment passes and I say "So... the right? Is it your opinion that a PAO on the right is inevitable?" *holds breath* I even tried to get Dr. Kim to disagree with her when he came in, but no such luck. Honestly I was too exhausted yesterday to even begin to process the information, but getting up this morning was a bit of a stunner. Not that I don't have much more pressing matters to attend to at the moment!
The x-rays allowed Erin to calculate the coverage angles of each hip (how much of the femoral head [ball] is covered by the acetabulum [socket]). Ideally, these angles should be in the 20-degree range - my right is about 15 and my left a whopping NINE. Which explains why the left's been such an issue, and also why the right is a bit twingey, though still far behind the left in terms of discomfort. I asked Erin what degree of dysplasia I had and she said "I'd say... pretty bad." On a scale, of course, of Zero to Bad!
Meanwhile, the list of things I need to do before surgery isn't getting any shorter - at this point, I'm really looking forward to being sedated!
Friday, May 1, 2009
Well, glad I asked!
So I called Blue Cross today because I still haven't heard back about my request for prior approval, which is supposed to take 3 business days and has taken more like a month - extreme even by insurance company delay standards. Annnddddd... they have no record of my request! Called the office of Dr. Bean, the orthopedist I initially consulted with at Central Vermont who made the referral to Boston, and their very kind medical records lady has a confirmation from Blue Cross that they received the fax of the necessary documentation. Apparently, though, it's disappeared into the hazy blue beyond and needs to be sent again. Long story short, I should be hearing next week about whether they approve this business or not. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I will not be accepting a denial without a fight!
Meanwhile, I've been reading AKM's account of her PAO experience over at What's the Hip Fix? For those of you looking for some sense of what the hospital experience is going to be like for me, her account starts here and has really helped me understand more what to expect. Also a helpful primer for those of you considering visiting me in the hospital! :)
Happy May Day!
Meanwhile, I've been reading AKM's account of her PAO experience over at What's the Hip Fix? For those of you looking for some sense of what the hospital experience is going to be like for me, her account starts here and has really helped me understand more what to expect. Also a helpful primer for those of you considering visiting me in the hospital! :)
Happy May Day!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
8 weeks from today
*GULP!* Oh, it seems like just yesterday I was bitching about how long 9 months was! :) Still waiting for word from Blue Cross about whether I'm actually approved to go through with the thing, or whether I'll be paying out of pocket for this happy fun time elective procedure. Fingers crossed!
I have to say that lopsided Hip Hip Hooray cake really cracks me up - how appropriate! And you have to laugh, truly. Hoo spent much of my adjustment yesterday patting my neck with great concern, finally asking "Do you have some family stuff going on right now?" Why yes, yes I do! "Stuff" being "trying to determine if recuperating at my parents' house will actually drive me insane (even while heavily medicated)". At this point, to be honest, I'm leaning towards "it most certainly will", but am at a loss as to what my other options might be. *LE sigh*
Only 2 1/2 more school days til break! OHM shanti shanti shanti...
I have to say that lopsided Hip Hip Hooray cake really cracks me up - how appropriate! And you have to laugh, truly. Hoo spent much of my adjustment yesterday patting my neck with great concern, finally asking "Do you have some family stuff going on right now?" Why yes, yes I do! "Stuff" being "trying to determine if recuperating at my parents' house will actually drive me insane (even while heavily medicated)". At this point, to be honest, I'm leaning towards "it most certainly will", but am at a loss as to what my other options might be. *LE sigh*
Only 2 1/2 more school days til break! OHM shanti shanti shanti...
Friday, April 10, 2009
My Diagnosis is 1!
For. Real. 365 days ago this afternoon I'd never even heard of hip dysplasia, and by the evening I was googling like a fiend, trying to figure out what the heck I was actually up against. Oh, how far I've come since then, jeez, just in anatomical knowledge alone!
For once I am somewhat at a loss as to how to sum up the past year's transformation... suffice to say that today also marks 2 months until my periacetabular osteotomy (say it three times fast!) and I am equal parts confident in my assiduous preparation therefor and terrified of the consquences thereof that I can't possibly predict. Okay, maybe more parts terrified, depending on the day. :) But I know I'm in good hands, and I know that all the work I've done this year can only help improve my chances for a speedy recovery. I'm hoping I'll come out of it all thinking it wasn't nearly as big of a deal as I thought it would be!
I surely would not have made it this far without the support of my ever-expanding team of trusty medical professionals, the blogs of my fellow hipwomen and, most importantly, my friends who have endured 12 solid months of my rollercoaster obsession and all the compulsive information-sharing, shaky sanity, and occasional cane-wielding it has entailed. This summer is sure to be a tough one, but if you bear with me I promise to be much less of a stick in the mud thereafter. Much much MUCH love to you all!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Hurdler
Well, I've cleared the tiniest of hurdles by scheduling my pre-op appointment at Beth Israel, one round of blood donation, and my x-rays and appointment with Dr. Kim - May 28th is going to be a LONG day! Still need to figure out my other autologous (that means for me and me alone!) blood donation, though, since I'll either need to make another trip to BI or pay for the Red Cross to ship it down for me, which insurance may or may not cover. The lady at the BI blood place said it cost "a pretty penny" but had no idea of a ballpark figure. We'll see - much as I don't mind driving to Boston, there's the issue of timing the donation as well (and that pesky "also going to work" problem) to contend with.
Meanwhile, I've begun the joy of dealing with Blue Cross on the matter, and spent a good 15 minutes doing battle with the damnable Request for Prior Approval pdf. Jeez! Talk about user hostile! Absolutely no rhyme or reason to when it would and wouldn't let me fill in a box. And the whole point of the thing is to fill in boxes! Grrr. I was also reminded yet again of the value of calling customer service at least twice, so you can get at least 2 different answers to your question! It's always been that way, and this instance was no different - one told me I needed a form for both my pre-op and surgery, and the other said I just needed one. The marvelous Annette told me, however, that I'd only need one, and that woman knows her stuff! Dealing with out-of-network insurance from at least 3 states on a regular basis - I don't envy her, but I'm sure glad to have her as a resource!
Ew, and my blood donation is supposed to take 90 MINUTES! Jiminy! Add to that the fact that the last time I donated blood the tech told me she'd never seen anyone's blood flow so slowly. Oh man, I am not looking forward to it!
Meanwhile, I've begun the joy of dealing with Blue Cross on the matter, and spent a good 15 minutes doing battle with the damnable Request for Prior Approval pdf. Jeez! Talk about user hostile! Absolutely no rhyme or reason to when it would and wouldn't let me fill in a box. And the whole point of the thing is to fill in boxes! Grrr. I was also reminded yet again of the value of calling customer service at least twice, so you can get at least 2 different answers to your question! It's always been that way, and this instance was no different - one told me I needed a form for both my pre-op and surgery, and the other said I just needed one. The marvelous Annette told me, however, that I'd only need one, and that woman knows her stuff! Dealing with out-of-network insurance from at least 3 states on a regular basis - I don't envy her, but I'm sure glad to have her as a resource!
Ew, and my blood donation is supposed to take 90 MINUTES! Jiminy! Add to that the fact that the last time I donated blood the tech told me she'd never seen anyone's blood flow so slowly. Oh man, I am not looking forward to it!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
It's 3 months from today
I try to refrain from too much swearing on here, but FUCK! That's some scary shit!
Left a message for the darling Annette today to schedule my pre-op, hung up and actually shuddered, going "Bluh-agh!" But I need to talk to her before I can talk to Blue Cross and then schedule at least a couple more massages with Jennifer and have put it off long enough already. Also have a note in to Yoga Mountain in town about getting into some Kripalu (the Moon Salutation of which Jennifer recommended for hip troubles) classes, so I'm looking forward to that, as well as to their monthly Restorative Yoga Sunday session, which I hope to catch soon.
Meanwhile, I've had some wicked anxiety dreams lately and have had a hard time sleeping in general (Augustus and his 5:30 breakfast wake up mewl is of no help there) - something I need to get a handle on sooner rather than later. Lousy overthinking brain!
Left a message for the darling Annette today to schedule my pre-op, hung up and actually shuddered, going "Bluh-agh!" But I need to talk to her before I can talk to Blue Cross and then schedule at least a couple more massages with Jennifer and have put it off long enough already. Also have a note in to Yoga Mountain in town about getting into some Kripalu (the Moon Salutation of which Jennifer recommended for hip troubles) classes, so I'm looking forward to that, as well as to their monthly Restorative Yoga Sunday session, which I hope to catch soon.
Meanwhile, I've had some wicked anxiety dreams lately and have had a hard time sleeping in general (Augustus and his 5:30 breakfast wake up mewl is of no help there) - something I need to get a handle on sooner rather than later. Lousy overthinking brain!
Friday, January 9, 2009
THR v. PAO: A Tutorial
AKA What part of Periacetabular Osteotomy do you not understand? :D
I'm not having a hip replacement - let me just get that out of the way. It's a distinction I fear I'm going to be making fairly frequently, though perhaps less thanks to this handy dandy post!
This (in case you didn't know) is your hip (or, one's hip - you may have a hip of an entirely different stripe in your body and just not know it yet!):
A Total Hip Replacement (THR to its friends) replaces both the femoral head and the lining of the acetabular (socket) with prosthetics, whereas my own beloved/befeared PAO uses my own bits to correct the acetabular misalignment. I can do a killer fist-in-cupped-hand demonstration of this correction for those of you who are interested. :)
Basically my socket doesn't cover enough of the ball to prevent my hip from wobbling around all willy-nilly like an inebriated penguin, so Dr. Kim will make 3 cuts (probably with some scary saw, but let's not think about that!) thusly (full disclosure: I've never seen that pic before and it caused me to make a bad frowny face and go "Oh. My. God." *shudder*) and realign the piece such that it provides full coverage for the ball. It's called a joint preserving technique because it uses my own bone, cartilage, tissues and whatnot (I believe that's the medical term) to essentially recreate the joint. As such, I'll likely have as much, if not more, time left on the joint as I would with a THR, but without the restrictions a THR poses and without the need to replace the replacement as it wears out. Of course, my own joint very probably will wear out over time anyway, but it seems much more reasonable to have a hip replacement at 50 or 60 than at 29. Not to mention that by that time who knows what joint replacement technology will look like. *sings Kool Keith "mechanical legs, mechanical legs"!*
Of course, because the PAO slices right through bone and all the muscles I've been working so hard at building up, the recovery time is pretty astronomical, especially compared to the THR. As such, I'll be hospitalized for up to a week, then home and fairly low-functioning for at least a few more, all the while (ideally) on crutches, which I'll have probably up to my 12-week post-op check-up (yeah triple dash!) before getting down to a cane, recovery permitting. And, to be honest, there's a lot of shit that can go wrong, my biggest fears being nerve damage and blood clots. Oh, and it not working. ha! THAT would suck!
But so it's good I have all this time to prep, to get in better shape and deal with my Vitamin D deficiency and my slightly high cholesterol and my... uh... lack of an iPod? I'm better prepared for my surgery (5 months from tomorrow!) with each passing day!
And now so are you. :)
I'm not having a hip replacement - let me just get that out of the way. It's a distinction I fear I'm going to be making fairly frequently, though perhaps less thanks to this handy dandy post!
This (in case you didn't know) is your hip (or, one's hip - you may have a hip of an entirely different stripe in your body and just not know it yet!):
A Total Hip Replacement (THR to its friends) replaces both the femoral head and the lining of the acetabular (socket) with prosthetics, whereas my own beloved/befeared PAO uses my own bits to correct the acetabular misalignment. I can do a killer fist-in-cupped-hand demonstration of this correction for those of you who are interested. :)
Basically my socket doesn't cover enough of the ball to prevent my hip from wobbling around all willy-nilly like an inebriated penguin, so Dr. Kim will make 3 cuts (probably with some scary saw, but let's not think about that!) thusly (full disclosure: I've never seen that pic before and it caused me to make a bad frowny face and go "Oh. My. God." *shudder*) and realign the piece such that it provides full coverage for the ball. It's called a joint preserving technique because it uses my own bone, cartilage, tissues and whatnot (I believe that's the medical term) to essentially recreate the joint. As such, I'll likely have as much, if not more, time left on the joint as I would with a THR, but without the restrictions a THR poses and without the need to replace the replacement as it wears out. Of course, my own joint very probably will wear out over time anyway, but it seems much more reasonable to have a hip replacement at 50 or 60 than at 29. Not to mention that by that time who knows what joint replacement technology will look like. *sings Kool Keith "mechanical legs, mechanical legs"!*
Of course, because the PAO slices right through bone and all the muscles I've been working so hard at building up, the recovery time is pretty astronomical, especially compared to the THR. As such, I'll be hospitalized for up to a week, then home and fairly low-functioning for at least a few more, all the while (ideally) on crutches, which I'll have probably up to my 12-week post-op check-up (yeah triple dash!) before getting down to a cane, recovery permitting. And, to be honest, there's a lot of shit that can go wrong, my biggest fears being nerve damage and blood clots. Oh, and it not working. ha! THAT would suck!
But so it's good I have all this time to prep, to get in better shape and deal with my Vitamin D deficiency and my slightly high cholesterol and my... uh... lack of an iPod? I'm better prepared for my surgery (5 months from tomorrow!) with each passing day!
And now so are you. :)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I'm getting the fear...
...though thus far I've been able to stave off the bulk of the loathing!
My right hip hurts. There, I said it. The front of my left hip is panging and the side of my right hip is sore, sore, sore. I don't know if you've ever tried to limp BOTH legs, but it ain't easy. The pool yesterday was phenomenal as always (though somehow the water was colder than it's ever been), and I didn't feel any strange strains, so maybe it's just the cold that's doing it. I hope. Except that if it's the cold, I've got at least 5 more months of this. :/
Without getting too far ahead of myself, I'm considering what the next year+ of my life will look like if (when?) I need a PAO on my right side. There are plenty of women who've had both, and I've seen them scheduled as close as 6 months apart from one another, which would put me, in a best case scenario, right around winter break (slash my 30th birthday - yipes!) next year as a possibility. Initially I had said I would do summer of 2010 RPAO but at this point I can't even fathom going through another year and a half of pain and waiting. Of course, an RPAO also means I won't be able to drive even an automatic for maybe 2 months, which would complicate matters considerably. I'm going to give the whole thing a big HARRUMPH!
Today in my as yet futile quest for winter parking, I uttered for the first time the words "I'm handicapped" and felt pretty damn weird. It's not at all accurate... but then it is? Depending on the day? I think the word I've used here before is "limited", but "limited" doesn't get you a snow-free parking spot in downtown Montpelier, now does it?! :) *grumble*grumble*grumble*
My right hip hurts. There, I said it. The front of my left hip is panging and the side of my right hip is sore, sore, sore. I don't know if you've ever tried to limp BOTH legs, but it ain't easy. The pool yesterday was phenomenal as always (though somehow the water was colder than it's ever been), and I didn't feel any strange strains, so maybe it's just the cold that's doing it. I hope. Except that if it's the cold, I've got at least 5 more months of this. :/
Without getting too far ahead of myself, I'm considering what the next year+ of my life will look like if (when?) I need a PAO on my right side. There are plenty of women who've had both, and I've seen them scheduled as close as 6 months apart from one another, which would put me, in a best case scenario, right around winter break (slash my 30th birthday - yipes!) next year as a possibility. Initially I had said I would do summer of 2010 RPAO but at this point I can't even fathom going through another year and a half of pain and waiting. Of course, an RPAO also means I won't be able to drive even an automatic for maybe 2 months, which would complicate matters considerably. I'm going to give the whole thing a big HARRUMPH!
Today in my as yet futile quest for winter parking, I uttered for the first time the words "I'm handicapped" and felt pretty damn weird. It's not at all accurate... but then it is? Depending on the day? I think the word I've used here before is "limited", but "limited" doesn't get you a snow-free parking spot in downtown Montpelier, now does it?! :) *grumble*grumble*grumble*
Friday, September 12, 2008
6 months ago this would have meant something so very different...
I HAVE A DATE WITH A SURGEON!
Who: me & my man Dr. Kim
What: LPAO
When: Wednesday, June 17th, 2009
Where: Beth Israel Deaconness Medical Center in Boston
Why: to get drugs- I mean better
And now... the REAL panic sets in. :)
Who: me & my man Dr. Kim
What: LPAO
When: Wednesday, June 17th, 2009
Where: Beth Israel Deaconness Medical Center in Boston
Why: to get drugs- I mean better
And now... the REAL panic sets in. :)
*th-th-thump*th-th-thump*th-th-thump*
(An impression of the sound my fingers make as I compulsively tap them on my desk in anxious anticipation.) I'm waiting to hear back from Annette, the scheduling woman in Dr. Kim's office, about actually setting the date for my PAO. I don't have an emoticon suitable for this feeling...
So in the meantime... let's talk about SHOES! I have to give a big shout-out to Earth Shoes, which have saved me so much discomfort over the summer (my favorite shoes EVER), during the school year (though mine are an older version of these), and in general. These last ones, which are called ROCKET (\m/) I bought for walking (it was so nice to be able to tell my mom, ever the spendthrift, "I have a prescription for new shoes!") soon after my diagnosis and Susan, my dry land PT, just adores them. They're supercomfy, insanely supportive (though you do feel kind of like you're going to topple over on the stairs) and vegan, if you care about such things. I've rocked the Rockets for the past couple of days and they've really helped me get back on track from my weekend strain(s).
Shoes are tough for me lately because I have so many pairs I love that I really shouldn't wear anymore. Thankfully Eric's beautiful pup Bella helped me out some the other night by chewing the end off of one of my beloved Reefs, which I REALLY shouldn't wear but can't bear to give up... well, couldn't bear to give up before they had a serrated heel, that is.
Hmmm... yes... stiiilllll waiting... going to sing some Talking Heads to myself now, I suppose. :)
So in the meantime... let's talk about SHOES! I have to give a big shout-out to Earth Shoes, which have saved me so much discomfort over the summer (my favorite shoes EVER), during the school year (though mine are an older version of these), and in general. These last ones, which are called ROCKET (\m/) I bought for walking (it was so nice to be able to tell my mom, ever the spendthrift, "I have a prescription for new shoes!") soon after my diagnosis and Susan, my dry land PT, just adores them. They're supercomfy, insanely supportive (though you do feel kind of like you're going to topple over on the stairs) and vegan, if you care about such things. I've rocked the Rockets for the past couple of days and they've really helped me get back on track from my weekend strain(s).
Shoes are tough for me lately because I have so many pairs I love that I really shouldn't wear anymore. Thankfully Eric's beautiful pup Bella helped me out some the other night by chewing the end off of one of my beloved Reefs, which I REALLY shouldn't wear but can't bear to give up... well, couldn't bear to give up before they had a serrated heel, that is.
Hmmm... yes... stiiilllll waiting... going to sing some Talking Heads to myself now, I suppose. :)
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
And so it begins...
Yeah, so I know in the song the girl dies, but hip-puns seem de riguer in this business and I love the Roots, so fuck it, The Hipnotic it is!
Oh and hi, welcome to my blog. :) I never really thought I'd have such a thing, but with all the craziness of this year it seemed to make sense. Following several months of increasingly persistent pain in my left hip, I was diagnosed in April 2008 (at the age of 28) with bilateral hip dysplasia. If you google this you will learn lots about dogs and babies, neither of which I, you know, am. But essentially the socket of my hip joint is too shallow, which leads to easy dislocation and the aforementioned pain. By April I was to the point where I was unable to walk without a limp on the left side, especially after getting up from sitting for more than half an hour or so, and waking up in the morning was excruciating.
Thankfully my diagnosis came quickly, after only one set of x-rays, and Dr. Crose, my excellent primary physician, hooked me right up with a physical therapist, Susan Stephen, who is phenomenal. Susan started me with simple exercises to do with a couple balls and therapy bands. From the very first time I did them I felt a huge difference, especially on my left side, where I had lost an incredible range of motion without even realizing it. Weeks of twinges, pangs and pins & needles ensued as I worked to regain even semi-normal function, though all this was nothing compared to the searing lower back pain I began to experience from basically realigning my entire midsection.
Here enter ultrasound massage and Kinesio Tape, my new best friends (along with Susan, my trusty PT), which somehow got me through to pool therapy, which I started in June. The pool... oh, the pool is an experience wholly unto itself. I have seen more, bigger and older boobs in the past 3 months than I'd seen in my entire life previously. I've also experienced the strange sensation of sweating in a pool, which is to be expected when the air temperature is 90 degrees and the water temperature is... 90 degrees! I shudder to think of the toxins I've sweat out onto the poor unsuspecting octagenarians, though I'm pretty sure the (literally) stinking chlorine's killed them off right quick. Uhhh... right, but all that aside the pool is amazing - I'd be miles away from where I am now in terms of strength and endurance without it.
So I've been chugging along well with everything I'm supposed to be doing - taking my piddly daily ibuprofen (since my condition is constantly deteriorating, they don't like to put you on pain meds until they absolutely have to), being mindful of my movements, rocking PT and continuing to lose weight (25 pounds and counting!) - but I'm not getting better. And I've come to terms (sort of!) with the fact that, regardless of how strong or stable I feel, I won't really get "better" without surgery. Here enter Dr. Young-Jo Kim of Boston Children's Hospital, one of only a handful of surgeons on the Eastern Seaboard that performs Periacetabular Osteotomies, the surgery recommended to me by Dr. Bean, the orthopedist at Central Vermont Medical Center responsible for my initial diagnosis. When I saw him he said "I don't know of anyone who does this surgery, but you may be able to talk someone at Dartmouth into giving it a try." Ah, thanks but no thanks dude! And off to Boston I went (4 months later - Dr. Kim's a busy man!).
This past Friday was my first trip to Boston Children's in Waltham, a mere three miles (or 25 driving minutes) from my dear friend Jon Kemp. After some last-minute roadside finagling with insurance (which I could author quite the rant on, given the chance) I went in for my very first MRI. Let me begin by saying that, like many people, I'm terrified of hospitals, mostly because I think of them as a place people go to die, not to get well, but it hadn't occurred to me that, because of its target population, Boston Children's would be a very different hospital experience. More colorful, more friendly, more cutie babies (occassionally screaming) out and about, and sweet fish tanks in the waiting area! Of course it also didn't occur to me that I'd be the oldest "kid" in the place (reading my Harper's with Dora the Explorer on the giant flatscreen), but because they have such a prestigious hip team, everybody pretty much knew what my problem was (at least medically! [haha]) as soon as I walked in the door.
The MRI... well, I was completely freaked out by the prospect of it, but I was totally wrong. Probably the worst part was the injection of the contrast, which produces a very bizarre vein-expanding sensation in one's arm. Here I am today, 5 days later, and my arm STILL hurts! The tech didn't mention that, but I'm assuming it's normal, or at least normal for someone as hypersensitive as I am. I chose earplugs over music for the MRI experience, figuring it'd be more zen, and that the noise of the machine would overpower the music anyhow, which I'm sure it would have. They got me to the point where my nose was in line with the edge of the machine and I could see the cool skylight above me and said "Are you okay there? That's where you're going to be." and I'm thinking "Oh, cool, I'm cool!" as my heart goes "THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP!" And of course they lied to me because 10 minutes later the machine goes "CA-CHUNK-CHUNK!" (it does a lot of that sort of thing) and I slide another 6 inches into the damn thing. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at the inside of the tube. Then I closed my eyes. :)
I can't really explain the sensation of lying perfectly still for 40 minutes while your body feels like it's being pulled through a vibrating microwave. I went on some sort of Internal Fantastic Voyage (probably good prep for my upcoming days in a morphine-induced haze) and felt SO bizarre when I finally got off the table. It wasn't as claustrophobic, nor as uncomfortable as I'd anticipated, and it had an odd brainwipe aftereffect I still find puzzling. I volunteered for a research study on PAOs that will necessitate at least another couple MRIs, though, so I'll have plenty of time for further reflection on the experience.
After a long long wait for my appointment with Dr. Kim (note to self: schedule for Monday mornings, NOT Friday afternoons!) I was taken into the exam room and met Erin Dawicki, Dr. Kim's kind and capable Physician's Assitant. We did the usual intake chat-and-evaluate (which is usually when I realize how truly fucked my left hip is - 10 stinking degrees of rotation!) before being joined by the big man, Dr. Kim. I definitely appreciate his friendly approach to this not-so-friendly procedure, and he laughs when I make a funny, so he's already cool in my book. He confirms for me (then Erin re-confirms) what I've secretly known all along: that I've got a "choice" between a) having this crazy invasive LONNNG-recovery surgery that will likely give me 20 years of normal hip function or b) waiting until the pain is too great to bear, which may happen as soon as 3-5 years from now and also means the cartilage is shot for a PAO and my only option is a total hip replacement (THR - so many acronyms!), which will reduce my mobility and need to be RE-replaced at least once or twice in my lifetime. So... kind of a no-brainer there.
This handy link gives you a good clear cringe-inducing overview of the PAO procedure. Blegh - gives me the willies just looking at it! But that's what I'm doing, dammit, come the end of school. Not that I relish the thought of limping along at this pace for the next 9 months, but I even LESS relish (there's some good grammar for ya) being on crutches for 3 months of the Vermont winter. So I wait, and in the meantime will likely drive everyone (or at least my mom) completely insane with my obsessive preparations. Last night she said "Don't be so worried about it!" and I said "I'm not worried about it, I'm organizing!" which is like maybe 65% true. She told me she could organize it in 5 minutes, which is like maybe 85% true. :)
There are a whole bunch of blogs of ladies who've been PAOed, all of which I've been reading voraciously to try to get a sense of what to expect in terms of recovery. It ain't pretty. After a 5-7 day stay in the hospital post-op I'll likely come home on a walker while working my damndest to get on crutches. I'll be crutching for... 2 months maybe? before downgrading to one crutch and then a cane. So be on the lookout for sweet canes! Oh, and "home" post-op will be my folks' house, which can be made relatively handicapped-accessible, unlike my apartment. So, yeah, I'll be at the mercy of my mom, for better or worse. And, at least at first, for going to the bathroom and showers. :( When I was telling Andrew and Jon about it (and many thanks for letting me vent, boys!) Jon said "So wait, you want us to come up to Vermont in June and kill you?" hahaha It's funny... because it's true. At this point I'm not even freaked about the pain (because what's the point?) but I'm very anxious about the complete and utter loss of independence.
Oh, and my right leg developed a new pain after I saw Dr. Kim, which is just great. Though also dysplastic, rightie's been largely asymptomatic (aside from mad sciatica issues) and Dr. Kim doesn't feel it will worsen significantly even with bearing the brunt of my weight throughout next summer or that it will need to be PAOed as well. As he said "We only operate on the hip that hurts", which sounded great to me... until my right hip started hurting. Still, I know I pushed myself too far Sunday at the ENORMOUS Brimfield Flea Market with the Kemp boys, and I'm hoping this is just an aftereffect. We shall see.
Dear lord this is a lengthy ramble. The first of many to come, I'm sure!
Oh and hi, welcome to my blog. :) I never really thought I'd have such a thing, but with all the craziness of this year it seemed to make sense. Following several months of increasingly persistent pain in my left hip, I was diagnosed in April 2008 (at the age of 28) with bilateral hip dysplasia. If you google this you will learn lots about dogs and babies, neither of which I, you know, am. But essentially the socket of my hip joint is too shallow, which leads to easy dislocation and the aforementioned pain. By April I was to the point where I was unable to walk without a limp on the left side, especially after getting up from sitting for more than half an hour or so, and waking up in the morning was excruciating.
Thankfully my diagnosis came quickly, after only one set of x-rays, and Dr. Crose, my excellent primary physician, hooked me right up with a physical therapist, Susan Stephen, who is phenomenal. Susan started me with simple exercises to do with a couple balls and therapy bands. From the very first time I did them I felt a huge difference, especially on my left side, where I had lost an incredible range of motion without even realizing it. Weeks of twinges, pangs and pins & needles ensued as I worked to regain even semi-normal function, though all this was nothing compared to the searing lower back pain I began to experience from basically realigning my entire midsection.
Here enter ultrasound massage and Kinesio Tape, my new best friends (along with Susan, my trusty PT), which somehow got me through to pool therapy, which I started in June. The pool... oh, the pool is an experience wholly unto itself. I have seen more, bigger and older boobs in the past 3 months than I'd seen in my entire life previously. I've also experienced the strange sensation of sweating in a pool, which is to be expected when the air temperature is 90 degrees and the water temperature is... 90 degrees! I shudder to think of the toxins I've sweat out onto the poor unsuspecting octagenarians, though I'm pretty sure the (literally) stinking chlorine's killed them off right quick. Uhhh... right, but all that aside the pool is amazing - I'd be miles away from where I am now in terms of strength and endurance without it.
So I've been chugging along well with everything I'm supposed to be doing - taking my piddly daily ibuprofen (since my condition is constantly deteriorating, they don't like to put you on pain meds until they absolutely have to), being mindful of my movements, rocking PT and continuing to lose weight (25 pounds and counting!) - but I'm not getting better. And I've come to terms (sort of!) with the fact that, regardless of how strong or stable I feel, I won't really get "better" without surgery. Here enter Dr. Young-Jo Kim of Boston Children's Hospital, one of only a handful of surgeons on the Eastern Seaboard that performs Periacetabular Osteotomies, the surgery recommended to me by Dr. Bean, the orthopedist at Central Vermont Medical Center responsible for my initial diagnosis. When I saw him he said "I don't know of anyone who does this surgery, but you may be able to talk someone at Dartmouth into giving it a try." Ah, thanks but no thanks dude! And off to Boston I went (4 months later - Dr. Kim's a busy man!).
This past Friday was my first trip to Boston Children's in Waltham, a mere three miles (or 25 driving minutes) from my dear friend Jon Kemp. After some last-minute roadside finagling with insurance (which I could author quite the rant on, given the chance) I went in for my very first MRI. Let me begin by saying that, like many people, I'm terrified of hospitals, mostly because I think of them as a place people go to die, not to get well, but it hadn't occurred to me that, because of its target population, Boston Children's would be a very different hospital experience. More colorful, more friendly, more cutie babies (occassionally screaming) out and about, and sweet fish tanks in the waiting area! Of course it also didn't occur to me that I'd be the oldest "kid" in the place (reading my Harper's with Dora the Explorer on the giant flatscreen), but because they have such a prestigious hip team, everybody pretty much knew what my problem was (at least medically! [haha]) as soon as I walked in the door.
The MRI... well, I was completely freaked out by the prospect of it, but I was totally wrong. Probably the worst part was the injection of the contrast, which produces a very bizarre vein-expanding sensation in one's arm. Here I am today, 5 days later, and my arm STILL hurts! The tech didn't mention that, but I'm assuming it's normal, or at least normal for someone as hypersensitive as I am. I chose earplugs over music for the MRI experience, figuring it'd be more zen, and that the noise of the machine would overpower the music anyhow, which I'm sure it would have. They got me to the point where my nose was in line with the edge of the machine and I could see the cool skylight above me and said "Are you okay there? That's where you're going to be." and I'm thinking "Oh, cool, I'm cool!" as my heart goes "THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP!" And of course they lied to me because 10 minutes later the machine goes "CA-CHUNK-CHUNK!" (it does a lot of that sort of thing) and I slide another 6 inches into the damn thing. I opened my eyes and found myself looking at the inside of the tube. Then I closed my eyes. :)
I can't really explain the sensation of lying perfectly still for 40 minutes while your body feels like it's being pulled through a vibrating microwave. I went on some sort of Internal Fantastic Voyage (probably good prep for my upcoming days in a morphine-induced haze) and felt SO bizarre when I finally got off the table. It wasn't as claustrophobic, nor as uncomfortable as I'd anticipated, and it had an odd brainwipe aftereffect I still find puzzling. I volunteered for a research study on PAOs that will necessitate at least another couple MRIs, though, so I'll have plenty of time for further reflection on the experience.
After a long long wait for my appointment with Dr. Kim (note to self: schedule for Monday mornings, NOT Friday afternoons!) I was taken into the exam room and met Erin Dawicki, Dr. Kim's kind and capable Physician's Assitant. We did the usual intake chat-and-evaluate (which is usually when I realize how truly fucked my left hip is - 10 stinking degrees of rotation!) before being joined by the big man, Dr. Kim. I definitely appreciate his friendly approach to this not-so-friendly procedure, and he laughs when I make a funny, so he's already cool in my book. He confirms for me (then Erin re-confirms) what I've secretly known all along: that I've got a "choice" between a) having this crazy invasive LONNNG-recovery surgery that will likely give me 20 years of normal hip function or b) waiting until the pain is too great to bear, which may happen as soon as 3-5 years from now and also means the cartilage is shot for a PAO and my only option is a total hip replacement (THR - so many acronyms!), which will reduce my mobility and need to be RE-replaced at least once or twice in my lifetime. So... kind of a no-brainer there.
This handy link gives you a good clear cringe-inducing overview of the PAO procedure. Blegh - gives me the willies just looking at it! But that's what I'm doing, dammit, come the end of school. Not that I relish the thought of limping along at this pace for the next 9 months, but I even LESS relish (there's some good grammar for ya) being on crutches for 3 months of the Vermont winter. So I wait, and in the meantime will likely drive everyone (or at least my mom) completely insane with my obsessive preparations. Last night she said "Don't be so worried about it!" and I said "I'm not worried about it, I'm organizing!" which is like maybe 65% true. She told me she could organize it in 5 minutes, which is like maybe 85% true. :)
There are a whole bunch of blogs of ladies who've been PAOed, all of which I've been reading voraciously to try to get a sense of what to expect in terms of recovery. It ain't pretty. After a 5-7 day stay in the hospital post-op I'll likely come home on a walker while working my damndest to get on crutches. I'll be crutching for... 2 months maybe? before downgrading to one crutch and then a cane. So be on the lookout for sweet canes! Oh, and "home" post-op will be my folks' house, which can be made relatively handicapped-accessible, unlike my apartment. So, yeah, I'll be at the mercy of my mom, for better or worse. And, at least at first, for going to the bathroom and showers. :( When I was telling Andrew and Jon about it (and many thanks for letting me vent, boys!) Jon said "So wait, you want us to come up to Vermont in June and kill you?" hahaha It's funny... because it's true. At this point I'm not even freaked about the pain (because what's the point?) but I'm very anxious about the complete and utter loss of independence.
Oh, and my right leg developed a new pain after I saw Dr. Kim, which is just great. Though also dysplastic, rightie's been largely asymptomatic (aside from mad sciatica issues) and Dr. Kim doesn't feel it will worsen significantly even with bearing the brunt of my weight throughout next summer or that it will need to be PAOed as well. As he said "We only operate on the hip that hurts", which sounded great to me... until my right hip started hurting. Still, I know I pushed myself too far Sunday at the ENORMOUS Brimfield Flea Market with the Kemp boys, and I'm hoping this is just an aftereffect. We shall see.
Dear lord this is a lengthy ramble. The first of many to come, I'm sure!
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