It’s been five weeks since I broke my hip. I’ve had plenty of time to think and put it all in perspective.
It shouldn’t have happened and it sucks that it did. It’s not fair. I’ve had more than my share of personal problems over the last four years: two major household moves in two months, the second one causing me to lose my independence. Rehoming our family dog. My mother passed away. My marriage ended. And now this.
With the latest ordeal mostly behind me, though, I’ve learned that no matter how bad something is, it could almost always be worse. I’m grateful for the positive aspects of this one. Things that went right:
I’m extremely lucky I didn’t have multiple injuries. A broken arm, leg or neck, would have been a more difficult recovery, and have far-reaching complications for my overall functioning in the future. Unlike most people who get hip replacements, I didn’t have to walk again post surgery. Oh, the irony of MS! LOL. If my chair had come down on top of me, I could have been killed. A head injury would have affected my ability to communicate. That thought fills me with terror.
The ER broke their own rules when they allowed my son to come in to feed me that night, and to bring my meds from home. I think they realized that as someone with MS, I was pretty helpless on my own. Because I was scheduled for surgery the next day, if I hadn’t eaten something before the midnight cut off, I would be pretty damn “hangry” the next day.
In a very weird twist, I’m grateful for my open-heart surgery in 2010, when I had a bad reaction to the anaesthetic. This time, they didn’t put me under a general anaesthetic, which would have required intubation. Instead of repairing my hip – a more complicated operation – the surgeon decided to replace the joint, a relatively quick, 30-minute procedure. These shortcuts contributed to my speedy recovery. The surgical team listened to me.
I didn’t have much pain, which meant I didn’t have to deal with the side effects of pain medication, such as weakness, grogginess and constipation (God forbid!). My incision is healing beautifully, or so I’ve been told. I was afraid of an ugly scar that would make me look like Franken-Joy. Apparently, there can be a lot of bruising, and it can even open up and bleed a little bit, or become infected. I seem to have dodged all these issues – at least so far. I don’t want to get too cocky and jinx myself.
Other good things: I didn’t catch Covid and my chair wasn’t damaged. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without my ride. Yes, the hospital made mistakes in my medication, but I noticed them before there was a problem. Positive reinforcement for being a control freak.
My favourite doctor from the Stan Cassidy Centre for Rehabilitation is actually coming to see me at my home Monday afternoon. That’s very good news because a week ago both legs started spasming more than usual. The right leg, the one with the injury, spasms when I’m laying down in the afternoon. And it hurts. My other one, always the problem child demanding more attention, spasms in the morning when I’m trying to get my day off to a good start, and again in the evening when I want to relax. These are quality-of-life issues, and I know Colleen will be able to fix them. I have mad respect for her and feel honoured that she’s making time to come and see me. How lucky am I?!
Two things are still lingering. Laryngitis. I can’t seem to shake it. This is the beginning of my fifth week. I have more volume now, and it’s definitely getting better, but there it is whenever I try to string together more than a brief sentence or two. I’ve put myself on vocal rest, something that frustrates the hell out of me because it means I can’t write. I have to dictate out loud, of course, so the software can transform my spoken words into text on the page. I’ve avoided writing to give my vocal cords a break, but I can’t stand it anymore.
My last unresolved issue is my bladder. I can prevent a pee, but I have trouble peeing on demand. Sometimes I can manage just fine, others not so much. Who knew peeing was so complicated? Things improved somewhat after the staples came out, so maybe this just needs a little more time. Patience, Joy.
This is the first crisis I’ve gone through on my own, without a partner to lean on emotionally. I’ve also realized that the kind of support I need hasn’t been there for a while anyways. When I think about the first three days in the hospital, I felt scared and had to be brave on my own. Then again, things were happening so quickly all I could do was make a decision and then control my thoughts, so I didn’t freak out.
The universe made sure I had a silver lining. For those three anxious days, my wonderful son took care of as many details as possible – feeding me, retrieving my meds, making sure I got my radio (because the hospital TV didn’t work) – and then phoned and sent sweet, thoughtful little notes to remind me he was thinking about me and loved me. Also, I have the best friends! I received an enormous arrangement of flowers. One couple sent 10 kg of chocolate and other treats (I’m not exaggerating. It was all in one very large, decadent box). Another friend picked up and dropped off groceries – twice – that included surprises like flowers and chocolate. And yet another friend made the ultimate sacrifice: she gave up a Saturday morning to help me switch my clothing and bedding from warm weather to cold.
I know without a doubt that I’m loved, understood, supported and fortunate.