“It sounds like your underwear’s too tight,” I
speculated, drawing on my vast personal experience as a purchaser of
ill-fitting underwear. “I’ve had the same problem on and off for the last 30
years.”
“No, this is a different kind of pain,” mom asserted.
“It’s so bad at times it brings me to tears.”
“Please don’t cry in front of me,” I pleaded, knowing my
chances to console a weeping woman who happens to be my mother were feeble.
Flash forward nine months after a lot of painful
hobbling, and mom scheduled hip replacement surgery. Looking into the procedure
online, I found that approximately 400,000 Americans undergo hip replacements
each year and that it’s been one of the most successful surgeries since it
began. My mother took this information to mean she would have a high-speed joy
ride from the operating table to pain-free living with a quick pit stop to put
her feet up and pop a Tylenol.
“Every day, people with walkers, canes and wheelchairs have
this surgery and experience outstanding outcomes,” I emphasized encouragingly.
“I can’t wait to be one of them,” mom smiled.
“Still, the procedure
comes with various post-surgery limitations and challenges that require
round-the-clock professional care and support,” I conveyed, injecting a dose of
reality to what lie ahead.
“I’ll probably need a little help for 48 hours,” she
acknowledged, displaying a delusional optimism that is both inspiring and
terrifying.
To paint a not-too-gory picture of the hip replacement process, a four to six inch incision is made just below and to the outside of the groin. Two muscles are then pushed aside, giving the surgeon access to the hip socket. After a significant amount of sawing, tugging, yanking and advanced carpentry work, the natural hip is replaced with a metal and plastic implant.
While
some patients quickly get back to golf, tennis, yoga and other activities they
enjoyed before their hip deteriorated, full recovery can take several months. Or
to slightly adjust my mom’s projections, 48 hours … plus 90 days.
After kicking around the options for mom’s aftercare, my
brother Jim and I worked out a tag-team approach where one of us would be with
her at all times for the first three weeks post-surgery. Key areas of caregiving
included:
- Pain management
- Medication distribution
- Food procurement and prep
- Physical therapy nudging and nagging
- Compression sock installation and removal
- Strategic phone answering and electronic device
recharging
- Nighttime tucking-in-to-bed services
- Moaning and random vocal sound interpretation
“I travel all the way from Nebraska to Florida to help
mom and all she does is sleep!” my brother ranted with mock indignation.
“I hear you,” I mock sympathized. “Next thing you know
she’ll be asking you what’s for dinner.”
“Stir-fry,” Jim replied, suddenly serious. “When in
doubt, always go with stir-fry.”
While tracking along well overall, Mom’s post-surgery road to recovery had a few early speed bumps, usually after a day where she overestimated her progress and did too much.
I could tell what kind of a day
she was having when I would say “Good morning” and she would say “Uhhhhhhhh.”
Consulting my Moaning Interpretation app, I knew she was feeling a resurgence
of pain. Such reality checks were uncomfortable, but useful learning
experiences.
Let’s face it, choosing to have any elective surgery is
no easy decision, even when you believe the end result is saying goodbye to
pain and hello to a fuller, better life. At 83, I’m proud of my mom for taking that
leap of faith and going for revival over survival. I’ve always admired her zest
for life and youthful outlook as the years marched on.
As an active member of Team Marge, I look forward to
rooting her on in her journey back to a pain-free pursuit of happiness. And
because I have her best interests at heart, I will always recommend the least
invasive solution to any future discomfort in the groin or pelvic area.
In other words: If the underwear’s too tight, a new pair
can set things right.
