Full Hipster!

by Tom Shafer

May 14, 2020

Well, here I am, once again in a hospital, awaiting my southwestern scrambled egg breakfast with delicious bacon.  And no, it’s nothing to worry or panic about, just my scheduled second hipster procedure, this time the left one.  Surgery was yesterday and I’m doing quite well so far, and according to my surgeon who just popped in to check on me, I’m his model patient of all time. 

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Hyperbole aside, I’m certainly glad that it’s over.  My new hip does feel fantastic, and I have thoroughly enjoyed strolling the hallways without the pain that has been prevalent in my life for over three years.  And, I’m thankful that in spite of coronavirus concerns, I was permitted to complete my total hip replacement two months after we started the process (thanks, Governor DeWine).  I’m also thankful for my orthopedic surgeon who pushed the procedure forward one full month (he said for the first time in several years) because of the extraordinary damage – and the fact that I truly was a model patient after the first surgery.  My relative youth (words I don’t hear often these days) had something to do with it as well; supposedly, the average age for hip replacement candidates is sixty-nine years, and I am a decade short of that number right now. 

So what’s next for me?  In one month, I will be cleared to return to most of my normal activities and chores, and one month after that, I will be given carte blanche to life – within reason, of course.  I so look forward to hopping on my bike (for the first time in four years) and sliding my kayak into open water.  I also hope that I will be playing my first pain-free golf in over three years.  But, what I most look forward to is walking through my woods unencumbered by dull, aching legs and sharp groin and hip pain.  Actually, I can’t wait to walk anywhere without these afflictions. 

And sleep?  Well, as you’ve likely already read, I’m not very good at it anyway, but the last three-plus years have been remarkably difficult.  Based on results from my first hip surgery, I should be sleeping relatively pain-free in about three weeks.  Unfortunately, due to my failing hips, I have been attempting to sleep on my back for five or six months, and I am no back sleeper.  For all of my conscious life, I have been a side sleeper, and conversion to my back has proven quite challenging, to say the least.  I relish the evening when I can comfortably slide back and forth on my sides, with the hope of returning to a more rhythmic circadian cycle – for me anyway. 

The last big change I am anticipating now involves my emotional and behavioral well-being. Those of you who experience (or have experienced) chronic pain know exactly what I mean by this.  For almost four years, I have been putting on a show for the world at large, winning Best Actor awards daily.  Nobody likes a complainer, and I’ve never been that guy anyway, but when you grapple with significant pain on a daily basis, it wears on you on so many levels.  The general population would never know what I was dealing with but those nearest me frequently experienced my frustration.  I might be curt or short with them, and my grumpiness factor was always elevated near DEFCON 2.  I don’t think any of us suffering from pain intentionally mean to be this way – it’s just what happens.  But with two new hips and a surgically repaired back, hopefully those pain and grumpy issues will just be part of my life story, which of course will be embellished as needed in the future. 

I am in the honeymoon phase of the surgical process, and know the struggles that lay in wait for me: constipation, increased pain as the nerve block wears off, temperature spikes (my body’s defense against this unknown invader, namely the new joint), lethargy, sleeplessness, and loss of appetite.  Since this isn’t my first rodeo (by any stretch), I do know how to counteract most of these issues, and also realize that in about two weeks, all will be behind me. 

So, almost four years ago now, I was picking myself up from the base of a granite waterfall in Rocky Mountain National Park, not knowing then how that moment in time was changing my life.  I suppose in some ways I was lucky to survive the fall – perhaps I was – but five surgeries later, with a little luck and hard work at physical therapy, I might just be ready to resume a normal life.  And for those of you who are already enjoying a “normal” life, I implore you to take time to appreciate it.  Because you never know if and when you’re going to lose it.  I know I didn’t.

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