My Gimp Hip: Part 5

On Sunday, September 11, I enjoyed my last day in heels for the unforseeable future

 and hosted a dinner party for  our friends, the Andams, and the missionaries. It was my last, pre-surgery meal.

Julie came to spend the night so she could be with our kids when they woke up. We were due at TOSH in Murray by 6 a.m. Just before our early bedtime, we asked our good friend, Brian Watson, to come and help Brian give me a blessing. By this point, I was starting to wonder what I was doing. So many people had questioned this decision, mostly because of my age. I even had a friend post on Facebook, "I hope you tried physical therapy first." I second-guessed myself a lot. Maybe the pain wasn't that bad. Maybe I was just a wimp. Maybe we could put this off for a few more years. I don't remember everything that Brian said in the blessing, but I remember him saying that I had made the right decision. Even after the other Brian left, my Brian told me, "I really felt strongly the Lord telling me that this is the right decision." I also remember him blessing me with patience in my recovery. That filled me with a little bit of dread, not going to lie. 

Early next morning, we headed to Murray. We checked in and waited. They called us back to a room. I changed into a gown and put all my belongings in a bag with my future room number. I got an IV.  I got some new bracelets. The nurse drew on my hip with one colored marker, to make sure that was the right one. Then the doctor came in and drew on it with a different color to double verify it was the right hip (or in this case, the left one). A nurse came in and gave me a new hat. Or was he an anesthesiologist?

 We walked out of our room and headed toward the surgery room. Brian had to go to the lobby, and I went on alone, strapped to an IV pole. I climbed on a table, laid on my side...and the next thing I remember I was on my back watching nurses I'd never seen before hovering above me. They started moving my bed down a hall, into an elevator, down a hall. I wanted to go back to sleep. Suddenly, Brian was there. It was the strangest thing to have 4.5 hours of your life unaccounted for, especially when something major took place during those hours. I'm so glad though. I was painfully conscious when I had my wisdom teeth taken out, and that was terrible. I can only imagine. Here's what Zombie Devri looks like:

 Also, they died my leg orange for surgery. I can't remember why.

 Here's what I learned later. The surgery was supposed to take three and a half hours. Brian waited in the lobby and worked while he waited. He said after four hours, he still hadn't heard anything, and he started to get really nervous. After four and a half hours, Dr. Ferney finally came out and told him that everything had gone well, but they ended up having to use a smaller ball than the one they had planned on due to my bone make-up. (Dr. Ferney is a slow, very precise surgeon. He takes his time and makes sure he does everything right. That's how I am so that's another reason I wanted him to be my surgeon.However, this took longer than he had expected.)

Dr. Ferney specializes in a posterior approach, which means the incision is on the side of my hip (meaning through my gluteous maximus muscles). He had told me that the important thing is not the approach but the skill of the surgeon.

Brian stayed with me most of the day. They had me getting up to the use the restroom as soon as I was back in the room, and for the first few trips, I ended up throwing up. The ended up giving me an anti-nausea medicine via IV. I had so many medicines coming in via IV, as well as lots of oral medicines. I was pretty drugged most of the time. Brian went home that night to be with the kids. It was my first night away from Gabe.

  The next day, the physical therapist came by and told me that I would never be able to bend over and touch my toes. That made me pretty upset. I did a short lap up and down the halls in a walker. An occupational therapist brought me a reacher and a tool to help me put on socks. I was pretty drugged and sleepy, and I tried to pay attention, but I just wanted to go to sleep!

Brian brought the kids to see me. That made me happy. I got to feed Gabe. 

Michael and Rachel had fun with my new tools and funky pillows: 

  

 Sleeping at the hospital was rough because they kept leaving my door open. I kept telling everyone who came in the room to shut it, but half the time they didn't. And then I'd be asleep until someone went by my room having a super loud conversation. When Brian was gone, it was really frustrating because I couldn't just get out of bed to shut it. My legs were strapped to a pillow and a special anti-clotting machine. It was maddening! I felt like a broken record, "Please shut my door when you leave." "Please shut my door when you leave." 

Eat. Sleep. Physical therapy. Sleep, Eat. Sleep. I tried reading a book. I fell asleep instantly. I tried reading my scriptures. I'd wake up 20 minutes later holding my phone in front of me. 

Meanwhile, Brian, Lea, and Julie kept the home fires burning and the kids happy. On Wednesday, September 14, Brian came to the hospital, helped me get checked out, and drove me home. It. was. horrible. You never realize how much you use those sitting muscles until they've been cut clean through. When I got home, I tried to talk to Lea and Julie, but I was so miserable that I just went to bed. 

I woke up feeling really discouraged and found this waiting for me:

 It was filled with notes and funny things from the ladies in my book club. I really needed that pick-me-up that night, and I was so touched by their thoughtfulness.

We made a chart with all the pills I was supposed to take and the times I needed to take them. I couldn't keep it all straight, and I had volunteer "nurses" that helped me get my medicine. 

A physical therapist started coming to the house to help me get back in shape. His name was Steve. He came every other day for the first two weeks I was home. 

Brian worked from home the rest of that first week, and Lea and Julie helped alot. I got stronger everyday, but it was hard because I was on two crutches and I needed lots of help. I couldn't pick up Gabe. This was hard that first week, but I tried to keep spirits high. Steve told me that I'd be able to bend my hip more that 90 degrees by 3 months and that the physical therapist in the hospital was just trying to scare me into being really cautious post surgery. And so began life post-total-hip-replacement surgery.