My Rant
“You’re not right, Ann!”
Finally! Finally someone was acknowledging that I am off. Of course, the lineup of those who have made that comment, if only in their minds, is legion, but this time it was my trusted primary care doctor.
My hip, leg and back were worse. It was Friday and I had an appointment to unravel my options for living with pain.
Having had a no-problem replacement of my left hip in 2015, I walked into the hospital on Feb. 22, 2017, with high hopes that replacement of my right hip would allow me to participate in the life of my family, an energetic bunch that does things involving walking and running (don’t ask me why). My limitations would slow them down, prompt them to change their plans, leave me in the car or wonder why I was even there. There is nothing so sad as to hear your grandsons yell, “We have to wait for grandma.” Or, even more depressing, “We can’t do that because Grandma can’t walk.” So, often, I just demurred and stayed home … like when they went to Greece. My choice, by the way.
Despite my hope and extensive preparations for the surgery – I went on a diet and lost 35 pounds, I exercised. I even drank some awful Gatorade the night before as instructed – Feb. 22, 2017, marked the last day that I could walk without pain and a cane. After 13 days of post-operative pain and an excruciating attempt at physical therapy in a rehab facility that blamed me for my failure to progress, x-rays showed that my femur was broken. I needed more surgery, which turned out to be “big surgery,” lasting three hours plus transfusions. Again, no one could have been more diligent in following my doctor’s post-op instructions. It did not get better.
I sought a second opinion at Strong in Rochester. I call that second opinion the Rochester Revelation. X-rays there illustrated an artifact of the revision surgery. The greater trochanter had been broken off when the femoral shaft had been repaired. “It may migrate back or it might reattach with scar tissue.” I had to wait for a year to see what would happen. While I was waiting, I saw a pain specialist, had three steroid injections, visited and followed the plan of at least three physical therapists and resorted to bottles of ibuprofen and acetaminophen and other anti-inflammatories without any positive change. No one seemed to be able to give me useful direction. The original surgeon told me that I was fine because I could stand on one foot. He told me that the prosthesis was just where it was supposed to be. He could not tell me why I was in pain and why I was unable to walk any distance without a cane. Depending on who I spoke with I was told to avoid PT or to seek specific regimes at PT. One particularly arrogant PA chastised me for complaining about what was discovered to be a badly bruised iliotibial band. How that happened is a mystery to me. Getting up from a chair was about as mobile as I could get.
So, last Friday, Dr. Sulik said, “You’re not right, Ann.”
She could see it, acknowledge my complaints as valid. That, after two plus years of increasing pain and problems after a botched hip replacement, I was more than my complaint.
“What are we going to do with you?” she asked.
She went on to discuss all of the pain meds, PT and specialized treatments that I’ve tried. We both agreed that, while the pain meds were important, it was more important to find out what was going on with my hip and back innards. So, off to the x-ray pavilion, and maybe a consult with another doctor who had my best interests in mind.
And so it continues, the falling apart of the original equipment with which I was born. The x-rays tell me that the trochanter is still floating off in leg space rather than reattaching itself to the femoral shaft, a pretty good hint about why I am so gimpy, why my leg refuses to walk in a straight line.
I am going to Rochester again to evaluate my options. I do not want more surgery, but my ability to perform even the most ordinary chores is becoming more and more limited by pain. My garden looks like a dried out tropical rain forest. Dust inside of the house is so thick that the EPA might have to intervene. It is driving me bonkers and it is not doing much for the rest of the family either. Some days I find myself a tad bit snippy. OK … a lot.
Thus, “You are off, Ann” was music to my ears.
Thank you to Sandra Sulik MD for listening and observing. I am now working on being back ON.
Wish me luck.
End of rant.
