Any of you who have seen me over the past three months or so have seen me with some sort of apparatus to help me walk. Sometimes a walker, sometimes a cane, and sometimes an electric scooter. And in an airport, I’m pushed in a wheelchair.
Finally, on December 28, I had a total right hip replacement. I’m going to write about that today because my mind is totally on my recovery and not at all on gambling topics. I hope to return to my regular sort of columns shortly.
I’m sure many of you have gone through this procedure, or been close to somebody who has, or both. I’m also sure some of you will have it in your future. Consider this column a head’s up!
The operation is almost always done as an outpatient these days. I showed up at a surgery center at seven in the morning and was back home by two in the afternoon. The time one spends there varies, and at least occasionally they decide to keep the patient overnight. The main determining factor seems to be whether or not the patient, using a walker, can walk up and down the hall. If the answer is yes, that patient goes home — unless there’s an unusual infection of some kind.
There were a lot of instructions about not eating or drinking anything for 12 hours prior to surgery, not taking certain medications for a week beforehand, no alcohol, and there were some other restrictions as well. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday morning I needed to clean with an antibacterial soap they provided. I needed clean bedding and clean clothes the day of the procedure. There were six different medications I needed to have on hand beforehand so I could take them afterwards.
They gave me pre-operation exercises, post-operation exercises, and a prescription for Physical Therapy which I’ll go to three times a week for six weeks. None of this struck me as unusual, but learning I’d be restricted from driving or flying for six weeks was a big surprise. Had it been my left hip, I would have been allowed to drive earlier.
After seeing my orthopedic doctor a number of times, I had two pre-op appointments. Once with a physician’s assistant at the doctor’s office and one with a senior nurse at the surgery center. There was a lot of overlap in what they covered, but they were not identical. It was here I learned that I would receive a spinal block as an anesthetic.
This made me uncomfortable. Something about a needle in the spine. I was told this wasn’t mandatory, but most physicians doing hips and knees believe this is the best way to do it. Among other things it reduces the chances for blood clots compared to other methods for anesthesia.
I went home and looked up spinal blocks on the Internet. I came away concluding that it was the best way to go, even though it still made me uneasy.
Per instructions, I arrived at the surgery center two hours before the surgery was scheduled. I was asked the same questions over and over again about how recently I had taken such and such, had my leg shaved and sterilized, and had a port placed into a vein on my right hand, which would be used to later administer various drugs. The surgery center was basically set up like an ER room, except all of the patients were in there for scheduled procedures.
I met the anesthetist, and as had happened in the pre-op meeting, he again gave me the option of what kind of medicine to use, reminding me that my surgeon prefers the spinal block, and I went with my surgeon’s advice.
I was wheeled into the operating room. I was placed into position, which was sitting up, hunchbacked, and holding onto a pillow across my chest, and my lower back was pre-numbed before the spinal block injection. I was told I would feel a small prick — which I did — and then the doctor said, “Shit! Missed it!”
I’m not sure what exactly had happened. I had visions of me being permanently paralyzed, but in the meantime all I could do was to sit still and hope for the best. Shortly thereafter, the doctor exclaimed, “Perfect!” and I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in the recovery room.
Apparently, every patient wakes up from a spinal block at a different pace. Every ten minutes a nurse would come in and scratch my leg in various places and ask if I could feel it. Her hand would go to the bottom of my right foot, and she’d ask me to press against her hand. I couldn’t do any of this when she first started asking, but after about 90 minutes, I could do it all. Now it was time to see if I could walk. My ride home was there for about the last hour of this leg scratching.
It took three people to accompany me on the walk. Me in the middle with my walker, a nurse on either side of me ready to catch me if I fell, and a nurse’s aide walking behind me with a wheelchair which was ready for me if I fell back or needed to sit down. I walked to the end of the hall and back, stopped and tried unsuccessfully to urinate, and then was led back to my bed for checkout.
The home recovery is another situation altogether. Before this operation came along, we already had safety bars in our bathrooms and my shower has a bench in it. These were items suggested in pre-op, but we had already had them installed because we were senior citizens. We don’t know what medical situations might be in our future, but there’s a good chance there will be some and these things will be useful.
The recovery is going to take some time. I could not have done it without assistance. Fortunately, my wife, Bonnie, was a nurse for 40 years and she understands basic nursing. Using Depends and having a few “accidents” along the way didn’t freak her out. Still, she is now 80 years old and not as strong as she used to be. So, we had five friends “on call” if needed. Which so far, they haven’t been, but I am writing this on Monday, four days after the procedure. I start physical therapy tomorrow and I haven’t left the house yet other than for two relatively short walks to the corner and back.
They sent me home with a number of apparatuses. The walker itself was aluminum and had only two wheels. This is an old-fashioned model, but apparently, they are more stable than the four-wheel varieties. I received compression hose, which I was to wear during daylight hours. I received electric stimulators which I strap onto my legs to keep the muscles active. I received a large, foam, hip abductor pillow to keep my legs in position while I slept. Other than the walker, none of these things would have been manageable by myself without a caregiver.
I’m four days in. I’m able to walk slowly with the walker. I can walk, bathroom functions are normal, I’m not needing pain pills, and there is no unusual bleeding or seepage. It’s getting better every day. Tomorrow a buddy is going to take me to casinos for the first time. Probably not the best idea, but he suggested it and I said yes.
I’m planning on writing a more-typical column next week. Hopefully at least some of you found this interesting. Maybe later I’ll do an “after one month of recovery” column. I’m sure stuff will occur that I can’t foresee now.
