Looking up...

As in: things are looking up?  Quite a bit has gone on over the last 4 days, and "looking up" hasn't been a part of it.  So, I'll try to explain what I can and I know the readers here will understand.

In a nutshell: the first 4 days of this total hip replacement have been a bitch.  Some of the stuff I remember, some I don't.  You get a lot of propaganda about hip and knee replacements... from doctors, from friends, from the internet, from people you know, and people who don't know what you are going through.

There will be "the comparisons": Oh, the hip is way easier than a knee.  You think that's bad, wait 'till you have rotator cuff surgery... really, I don't want to have any of this shit done.  I finally consented to see the surgeon because the pain of walking across my living room has become unbearable.  Family and friends don't want you to get worked up over this, so they tell you all the "I know this guy..." stories.  Stories that have happy endings.  Stories that are horriffic, but "your surgery won't be as bad as that..."

What they don't tell you: it's all miserable.  There isn't any part of the process that doesn't suck.  In fact, it is hard to be "looking up," when looking down at your phone, iPad or computer screen makes you queezy... a surgeon just cut a chunk of bone off of one of your major joints, then drilled into the bones to try to get other parts to work as close to normal as the parts he just cut off... or that they hope will work as close to normal once you get past the pain... but it is going to take months no matter what, and those first 4 days are part of the process where even tilting your head down makes you want to vomit.

No, this isn't a "woe is me" tale, although I am about to puke because the furry boy who brings us lots of joy is trying to figure out what's wrong and where to sit so he can have his life back like it used to be.

I haven't updated much here.  It's another part of that "looking up" stuff.  Any, my little girl is worried about me, so the best I can do is paint the image in a funny, miserable way so she doesn't worry needlessly.

The down and dirty of the first couple days: someone gets to be the first surgery of the day, someone is going to have to be the last one of the day.  This doctor has a good reputation and gets to do it the way he wants; my surgery was his last one, after waiting 9 1/2 hours in a hospital room for the opportunity to get taken down to surgery.  I don't know how miserable it was, because they knock you out for the surgery.  I just know I was "combative" while coming out of it in the recovery room.  Because... miserable.

Wanting to put on a brave face, because who has ever put on a brave knee, means working with a physical therapist for 20 minutes, hoping that they will send you home before all that surgical anesthesiologisty stuff wears off.  Don't wish for it - you may get it.  I don't remember the ride home on Saturday.  What I do remember: telling Joan that I am calling 911 to get my ass hauled back to the hospital, because there is no way she will ever get me in the car. 

My hope, beyond getting something seriously stronger for the pain, is that I will learn better how to manage that pain.  And it hurts.  Like no other pain I have ever felt... and the "benefit" of getting a second chance at that pain, means I get to have queeziness like nothing else I have ever experienced.

I thought the pain of the "bone on bone" rubbing in my hip joint was as bad as it was ever going to be.  I was wrong.  It is one giant shit sandwich and unfortunately, you will be forced to eat you way through it.  The physical therapy, the pain meds, the constipation, the indignities of being a patient in a hospital, where others are going through the same thing means you can't even say, "You think that's bad?  Why last night, they  (insert the indignity of your choice here)..."  It all sucks.

And when it hurts beyond compare, and the pain meds make you wish you could just puke your guts out, but instead those same pain meds stop you up so much that the nurse delivers the good news that she will be shoving a suppository up your ass (because: it is for your own good), and you will be "holding it in" for a half hour, because it takes that long for it to even think about working, and you still are sure what that "thing" is.

So, an expensive ride back to the hospital, more indignities, well-meaning friends asking "Did you try this?" (Whatever the fuck "this" is??), and besides getting stuff shoved up your ass, you are paying through the ass for all of this treatment.... well, this is my "light-hearted" way of saying it has been a few days since I posted something, and will probably be a couple more before I do it again, and I can't sleep on my back, but the doctor says I "CAN'T" sleep on my side, and taking a breath hurts, but blow into this contraption, etc, etc, etc.

And now, just over 4 days into it, nothing seems better, but I think I made my kid feel better because I could make her laugh over the whole suppository story, rather than cause her any more worry... and I essentially get to start the process over again, but now I can't say that I've never had a suppository, because I have, and actually looked forward to maybe getting some gut pain relief.

But, other than that, it's all fine.  I'm guessing in a couple days, I may look back at this post and think, "You big pussy - the 80 year old woman who walked past you in the hall with her new knee and look of anguish on her face didn't seem to have anything shoved up her ass - toughen up."

Or, not.