Just a quick update to wrap this all up (so far, anyway). I got my staples -- what ever happened to old-fashioned 'stitches', I wonder? -- out yesterday after my first follow-up with my surgeon. That was a lovely thing, indeed. Those things itch
like the Dickens after a month in place
. It WAS kinda funny ... the nurse said: "Since these have been in so long it might hurt a little to pull them out. Just take a deep breath ..." It only took a moment for me to observe that, if that
is what she calls *might hurt*? Bring it on, sister
. That felt like nothing!
I think I've ruined my barometer as to what pain is, at this point. Which might be a good thing, as time travels? Short of having my head chewed off by a hungry polar bear, I don't think I'll ever 'define' pain in the same way, ever again. Something (like a chewed off face, maybe
) might hurt worse than June 2010 did in Gatsbyland, but if so? It doesn't scare me to consider, these days.
More rehab down the pike. I'm allowed to put full weight on the left leg now, and am permitted to try to take a step or two (sans walker) in the next six weeks. My doc ~ who I [affectionately and respectfully] refer to as a peculiar mixture of Dr. Mengele and Dr. House ~ says I'm officially disabled for three months. But, after that? He's sure I'll be back on my feet. Whew! I got to see the x-rays today, and my left side is now a crazy-looking mix of hinges and metal rods. L-o-n-g metal rods, too. So three months makes sense. And the odds, in my case, are better than good. Despite some malfunction, built-in, going in I'm bound to beat the odds when it comes to broken hips. I was very curious about that part, and wasted no time asking before I even had the surgery. It really IS true that 80% of patients who have broken hips die within a year (or so I was told). But that's because the *hurt* of it stops them, they stop trying. As a result they develop all sorts of problems, usually pneumonia. And they're usually considerably older than I am, too. Me? I'm an obedient fool, most days
. So I'll try to keep moving, and will manage to. Hell, one nurse (honestly) told me: "OK, so you may not play tennis again. BUT -- you will be able to watch a match, cheer on your favorite, and NOT have to fear being so feeble that you'll fall off the bleachers!" I'm good with that
. I'd pretty much known that long before this happened, anyway.
Again, thank you all for all the positive thoughts! Looks like all is going well, and I'll be [slightly] kickin' for a while.