Monday, August 02, 2004
One Week to Go
As I sit writing this post, I know that one week from now at this time
I will be lying in my hospital bed, the revision surgery over.
Up until today, I have felt relatively calm and gone about my daily life without too many moments of fear. I just came back from a one-week vacation with my family. We went "home" to visit with old friends and my husband's family. It was a hectic visit and we now feel rather worn out, but at the same time it was wonderful to see everyone. I did all the driving, racking up almost 1,400 kilometres in 8 days. Fortunately, I am very comfortable driving. In fact, the surgery has made driving long distances much easier to do. I find it strange that I no longer have pain driving and have a small but noticeable (at least for me) increase in range of motion since having had the surgery. It was actually "successful" in certain ways but overall, due to the fact that I cannot walk without crutches, it has been a terrible failure.
I used two crutches throughout my vacation time and now that I am home, for the most part I am continuing to rely on this maximum support. Psychologically, I can accept this situation since I know that I am about to go for surgery. It would be much more difficult to accept if I knew it was forever.
I sent out a general e-mail to a number of friends and colleagues, informing them of my upcoming surgery. I have received many messages of good wishes and support in return. It is truly touching to know how many people are cheering me on.
But as I sit here I do feel fear. Not even my surgeon really knows what is going on inside. Although he suspects it is a loose stem, he will only find out for sure once he opens me up. I find this very frightening. On the plus side, I found out recently from a friend who is also facing a much too early revision that my surgeon is known in medical circles as the "king of revisions". I suppose I cannot ask for more.
I have avoided doing too much reading on the actual process of replacing the stem and on the expected outcome. Statistics, as I have learned the hard way, are meaningless. Only the actual result is significant.
The moment I fear the most is waking up from the surgery. The first time around I don't even remember the surgeon greeting me. As I recall, his first words were to inform me that they had fractured my femur. I have to admit that I dread what his first words will be this time. If I remember to do so, I will ask him to at least say hello before telling me how it went.
I think the most important thing I can do this week is try as hard as possible to visualize a good outcome. This is not an easy task but I must at least attempt to do so. I will also continue to allow myself to express my feelings in this forum. I feel that I owe it to myself to both express the fear and encourage myself to hope.
My cat is sleeping peacefully on the windowsill, right behind my computer screen. She is calm yet alert. Admirable.
I will be lying in my hospital bed, the revision surgery over.
Up until today, I have felt relatively calm and gone about my daily life without too many moments of fear. I just came back from a one-week vacation with my family. We went "home" to visit with old friends and my husband's family. It was a hectic visit and we now feel rather worn out, but at the same time it was wonderful to see everyone. I did all the driving, racking up almost 1,400 kilometres in 8 days. Fortunately, I am very comfortable driving. In fact, the surgery has made driving long distances much easier to do. I find it strange that I no longer have pain driving and have a small but noticeable (at least for me) increase in range of motion since having had the surgery. It was actually "successful" in certain ways but overall, due to the fact that I cannot walk without crutches, it has been a terrible failure.
I used two crutches throughout my vacation time and now that I am home, for the most part I am continuing to rely on this maximum support. Psychologically, I can accept this situation since I know that I am about to go for surgery. It would be much more difficult to accept if I knew it was forever.
I sent out a general e-mail to a number of friends and colleagues, informing them of my upcoming surgery. I have received many messages of good wishes and support in return. It is truly touching to know how many people are cheering me on.
But as I sit here I do feel fear. Not even my surgeon really knows what is going on inside. Although he suspects it is a loose stem, he will only find out for sure once he opens me up. I find this very frightening. On the plus side, I found out recently from a friend who is also facing a much too early revision that my surgeon is known in medical circles as the "king of revisions". I suppose I cannot ask for more.
I have avoided doing too much reading on the actual process of replacing the stem and on the expected outcome. Statistics, as I have learned the hard way, are meaningless. Only the actual result is significant.
The moment I fear the most is waking up from the surgery. The first time around I don't even remember the surgeon greeting me. As I recall, his first words were to inform me that they had fractured my femur. I have to admit that I dread what his first words will be this time. If I remember to do so, I will ask him to at least say hello before telling me how it went.
I think the most important thing I can do this week is try as hard as possible to visualize a good outcome. This is not an easy task but I must at least attempt to do so. I will also continue to allow myself to express my feelings in this forum. I feel that I owe it to myself to both express the fear and encourage myself to hope.
My cat is sleeping peacefully on the windowsill, right behind my computer screen. She is calm yet alert. Admirable.
