If it wasn’t so serious, it would be funny – or vice versa – and this may be one of my more difficult ‘treks’ as I prepare for hip replacement surgery. Some folks deal with the equivalent of this every day, pain far greater, longer lasting – never-ending even. As my heart goes out to them, I raise my hat in admiration for the smiles they wear and the “normal” lives they lead.
Given all of that, I wonder at my nerve in writing about this topic. But it’s all new to me, and gives a totally different perspective to what some folks bravely deal with daily. My equipment was borrowed from friends and Clearwater’s Red Cross. A few more items had to be purchased, with John and I often laughing out loud as I practise using all of it
With some days (and nights) being very painful, and others not bad, I started using the walking stick spasmodically. Consequently, folks were always chasing me, no challenge involved, to give it back. Finding a place for it where it was not a danger to others while I sat was another challenge. I learned to walk with it in the hand on the opposite side to my gimpy hip – and straight up and down so it doesn’t a) slide away and b) trip innocent passersby. I know the crutches will be needed post-surgery so I try them occasionally. Talk about uncomfortable! Oh, and going up and down steps, just use one on the same side as the operated leg, hanging onto the rail with the opposite hand. Perhaps I’ll need them in the house too, but meantime the walker is wonderful – as long as I can find where I left it last time.
The rule for the first three months after hip replacement surgery is: “Don’t ever have less than a 90° angle between upper body and legs.” Try it … a firm foam cushion on a chair with solid arms puts me in a better position to follow the rule. And now I’m about to get personal! The toilet seat must also be two inches higher than my knees. After humorous experiments, I now have two props, not one: a raised toilet seat straddled by a commode, bucket removed, its arms letting me press down as I straighten up, no bending forwards. Squeezed in beside this, a tub transfer bench lets me slide in under the hand-held shower.
Fortunately, handy dressing aids have been developed. “No big deal,” I thought. “Using these will be a snap.” Well, try putting on pants without bending … sit on essential raised bed, crooked leg stretched out, gripper in hand, and clothe it first. Remember it’s sore and, oh yes; twisting is a no-no as well. Pull, re-grasp, untangle from toes, and pull again. Don’t drop the long-handled reacher. Wow! That only took 45 minutes, and I haven’t got my socks on yet.
The sock aid is a firm yet flexible, slippery plastic sheet with a looped strap. Slide sock or stocking over it so toes are at its end with heel lined up underneath. Now, insert foot (watch angle and don’t twist) wriggling toes all the way in. Pull on strap, first this side then the other until sock aid slides off and sock is left behind. It works…. but if the top is uncomfortably crumpled, I have a problem. Gripper does not want to take hold. “John! Help!!” That only took 15 minutes … the second time round. Did I mention that I am clumsy and awkward?
My favourite chair is a rocker; I love to sit with my feet up; my computer chair is on rollers Nope, nope and definitely not. The house is getting rearranged. “I’m not the first to have gone through all of this,” I keep saying.
Hats off to all who have gone before, coping without fussing or whining – or feeling the need to write a story and pretend it’s a TREK!
