One Month Post-LPAO

Today was my one month post-op appointment with Dr. Millis and the team. I already had a feeling my left hip was healing faster than my right hip had earlier this year, but my appointment today confirmed this.

I got the standard x-rays before seeing the team: supine AP and false profile. When I went over the films with Erin, she pointed out the areas of bridging -- where the bone had begun knitting to fill the cracks. My bones have done a spectacular amount of knitting in the past month! The cut in the illium was barely visible (except the big gap to fill caused by moving the acetabulum), and the other two cuts were bridging nicely. I'll try to get the films so I can post them. Both Dr. Millis and Erin were impressed.

I reported that I am down to two Percocet a day, one in the morning and one before bed; Valium occasionally as needed. That strange pain (that I thought might be a ligament) is completely gone now. I still take one Atarax at nighttime. I am sleeping much better now, able to sleep comfortably on both sides now, as well as on my back. I still have the strange pulling feeling at my epidural site, so Erin told me to let them know if it got worse or continued much longer.

Erin did my range of motion tests and they were good as well. My hip can bend below 90 degrees towards my chest now and rotation was good. My straight leg raise was high and strong, too, which I think is because I was in good shape going into the surgery. I think if the muscles around your hip are strong going in, it can only help in the recovery.

When it came to movement, I admitted that I'd been putting more weight on the leg this past week. Erin had me walk with one crutch and then a few steps without crutches. One crutch felt OK but without crutches I definitely felt that sinking feeling you get when the leg is not ready to take the weight yet. So I am officially allowed to start using one crutch, but always keep the other around in case I need support or my gait becomes uneven "like a penguin," to quote Erin. Great news, huh?

I am allowed to go to the gym now, with far fewer restrictions than I had post-RPAO. I can do the stationary bicycle at zero resistance to start, as usual, but I can increase duration and resistance faster this time. And I can do any upper body and core exercises I want, provided my hip feels fine when I'm doing them. This is great news because the faster I can start getting back into shape the better; I'd rather not lose as much fitness as I did after the right hip surgery.

It is amazing how much different this recovery has gone compared to my recovery in March. Other women have said that one hip is always worse than the other, but you never know which one will be the bad one. Imagine if this one had been worse than the RPAO! But luckily it is going fantastically so far, and I'm feeling really great. But I doubt I would have appreciated the speed and ease of this recovery as much if I hadn't had such a rough go of it in March.

So good news overall, but there's still a lot of healing to do. I am going to try not to get overexcited about this progress, and continue to take it slow and steady so I can keep knitting away as well as I have been. I return to see Dr. Millis and the team in four weeks (Dec. 29), but I'll update here before then, to report on how the new weight-bearing and gym visits are going.

Three Weeks Post LPAO

It is now three weeks post-LPAO. At this point last time I had a giant leap in progress. This time, progress on the left hip is just steady and slow. I think the difference (again) is that Dr. Millis didn't have to go into the joint capsule on this left side. The first three weeks of horrendousness after my RPAO probably had a lot to do with the joint capsule having to heal up and stabilize. So while my first three weeks post-LPAO felt better than my first three weeks post-RPAO, I think the recoveries are pulling even now.

PAIN and its MEDICATION

My pain is generally very low. Most of the day I am in little to no pain. I usually wake up with pain around 4 or 5 in the morning, but once I take a Percocet I can make it quite a while until the next one. That ligament (or whatever it is) is still bugging me from time to time, but not nearly as much as it was last week, when it hurt at every step. Now it is just an occasional pinch from time to time.

Sleeping is still not fantastic, but is getting better. I still wake up a few times a night when I have to roll over. I can comfortably sleep on my right (non-op) side for long stretches at a time. The pain gets worse towards the morning when the previous night's bedtime Percocet has worn off. Last night, in a fit of madness, I tried to roll onto my left side. Ouch. I'm not quite ready for that yet.

I am gradually stepping down on the painkillers. This past week I discontinued the Oxycontin altogether and I have been averaging 4 Percocet/day (day being 24-hour period, in this case). I am still taking the Valium as needed.

I haven't stopped Atarax but I think I will this coming week. My hospital rash is long gone and the itchy-red-spots are pretty much gone as well. Just some residual itching here and there.

MOVEMENT

Movement is generally the same as last week. Now that the ligament pain (or whatever it was) has let up, I am less reluctant to crutch around. I have even left the house for dinner at a restaurant and other adventures. I am good on my crutches (after much practice!) and I am strong from my pre-surgery fitness level, so moving around is not a problem when the ligament is not bothering me. Some chairs are still uncomfortable, but I can find ways to sit to minimize the pain.

Because I seem to be healing so fast, I have been entertaining delusions of perhaps getting off crutches earlier this time. But I think that is probably not going to happen. I have been ahead in the healing game with this PAO because of the joint capsule -- but cut bones are still cut bones and they are going to take as long to heal on the left side as they did on the right. So I'm just going to be in this I-feel-fine-I-just-can't-walk limbo phase for longer this time. Great.

INCISIONS

Both my incisions look great: click the links for the pictures. The one that really matters is the right side, since that will be my permanent scar on that side. On the left side they will open the scar back up again to get the screws out in a few months anyway, so who cares what it looks like now.

MOOD

My mood is good; mostly stressed. I have had to work a lot during this recovery and it is leaving me with less time to read and relax than I had during my recovery this spring. It is also draining. In the evening I feel like I am going to collapse from exhaustion once I log off work. Another reason I am not getting as much reading done this time around. Happily there's the holiday weekend coming up so maybe I can get through a book.

Next week is my 1 month post-op in Boston. How the time flies as I limp along behind it.

Recovery Day 5 -- Homeward Bound

Among the many uncomfortable things about sleeping post-PAO is the fact that you can only sleep on your back: still and straight like a mummy (with pillows under one leg). Last night I somehow got it into my head that I might be able to sleep on my right side for a while. Surprisingly, it did not work at all. Neither my left hip nor my right appreciated the change. My left (PAO) hip just ached and my right hip's screw-removal incision pulled and pinched. Position change fail.

Dr. Kim came to visit me in the morning. I had actually never met Dr. Kim, so that was a pleasant surprise. He checked my dressings and asked about pain and had me wiggle my toes and all the rest of the typical morning-rounds check up.

At 9:30 Michelle from PT came to get me. I remembered her from March, she is a great PT. She helped me out of bed (an activity which is going more and more smoothly each time I do it) and wheeled me to the PT room. I walked the parallel bars (without help moving the left foot this time) and then got on the crutches to show I could handle them on a flat surface and on stairs -- two prerequisites for my discharge. All of this went very well today. It is such a mystery why sometimes physical things can be so hard and then suddenly so easy.

Obviously I spent two and a half months practicing crutching earlier this year, so that could be the reason for the crutch success. It went well, except that I seemed to be favoring my operated leg a little too much. As I stepped with my left foot, Dr. Millis kept saying "more weight on that foot!" I'm supposed to have 1/6 body weight on the left foot as I step on it, but that is a hard thing to gauge.

Having passed the PT tests, there were just some loose ends to tie up before getting me out the hospital door. There was a humorous moment sizing my TED stockings -- first they gave me size large, regular length stockings. They were loose and too short, like mid-calf gym socks. My mother kept saying I needed LONG stockings because I am tall, and size medium, so they'd be tight enough. A couple of attempts later what I ended up with were tight thigh-high TEDs. They looked sort of trampy, in a way.

The drive home was much better than it had been in March. I was in less pain, perhaps because the surgery had been less invasive so the little bumps and swerves of driving were less disruptive? Or maybe I was just better packed in with pillows and pain pills? Who knows. Another mystery.

By the time we got home to Connecticut three and a half hours later, I was in a lot of pain. While driving, we'd overshot the timing on my oxycodone dosing and so the pain had broken through big-time. I was at 7 or 8 when we got home, just moaning and staring blankly until the pain came back down.

My parents helped me lurch myself up the 13 stairs to my bedroom, and finally I fell into a blessed night of sleep -- in my own bed, without wires, beeping monitors, vital sign checks or rude awakenings by crowds of interns.

Phase One complete. Time for the long Phase Two.

Recovery Day 4 -- Wireless!

Last night was a terrible night because of the rash. Even though I finally got some steroid creams last night, the itching and discomfort was hardly vanquished, and I had to keep calling for Nubain and Benadryl in between my steroid cream applications.

This morning I wanted nothing more than to leap out of bed, have a shower (preferably stripping away several layers of rash-infested skin in the process) and then marinate myself in steroid cream. Last time I had this operation, I absolutely dreaded getting out of bed because it was so painful and logistically difficult. I think the rash is worse this time around, but I know that getting into and out of bed is somehow much less difficult, so it makes sense that I'm much more amenable to getting out of bed.

Nonetheless, I spent most of my morning in bed, working. So much for taking off from work for two weeks after surgery! Dr. LaReau stopped by to check on me, I ate some fruit salad, time passed.

At 10 my catheter came out. With that, I was wireless! No more leads, IVs, drains, nothing. Just me and my rash.

Finally Kimber came for PT, and it was time to get out of bed again. It went better this time; I was more confident with the limits of what I could do, and I also trusted Kimber more. Once up and in my wheelchair, I was taken to the PT room to try walking on the parallel bars. Again, I was pretty confident about it -- after all, this had been a less invasive surgery and I had already done this learning-to-walk-again thing before.

As all you proverb fans probably guessed, it went terribly. At least I felt it did. Just like in March, I couldn't slide my op-side foot forward to save my life. I was so disappointed and confused. This time they didn't cut that muscle! It is supposed to work! Why can't I move my foot?! Kimber helped me slide my op-side foot forward for each "step" but it just felt like cheating. I couldn't do it myself. The whole endeavor hurt my hip and my pride and I felt like a sad failure. I had thought it would be so much easier than in March and it wasn't.

At least when I got back to my room my sheets were changed. But I didn't get to take that long-awaited shower because (of COURSE) I got the only room on the floor with a bathtub instead of a walk-in shower. Perfect. So I had to wait for a new room to open up so I could switch rooms to take a shower. Which meant getting back into bed to stew in my own boiling skin for a few more hours.

I have been on oral pain medication since the epidural came out yesterday, but I still feel like they are not yet covering my pain properly. There are "gaps" where the pain comes through and when I ask if it is time for some more medicine I end up having an hour or more to wait.

Just like in March, I feel like I always have more pain than I "should" have. I know it is probably in my head, but I just get this vibe from people like they think I can't possibly be in pain when I am taking "so much" medication. But I am not exaggerating my pain. When I ask for medication, it is because the pain is at a distracting level, like 5 to 7. Actually, earlier today, when I told one of my nurses my pain had returned and asked if I could have some more medicine she looked at her watch and sort of sighed disapprovingly and said "you are already on a lot of medication..." It sucks to feel simultaneously like a sissy and a junkie.

At around 15:00 two doctors from dermatology came to look at my rash. They didn't take any photos so I guess they were "the deciders." After some chin-stroking they presented exactly no new ideas and no new solutions. So once again dermatology comes up a day late and a diagnosis short. Give me my steroid creams and go away now please.

In the afternoon I got out of bed again for a second session of PT with Kimber. Needless to say, I was not feeling positive about it, but since I had to get out of bed to get my shower anyway, I figured I might as well hit the parallel bars along the way. For some reason, this time it all went much better. Kimber still had to help me move my left foot forward, but at least it felt like I was contributing this time.

And so I earned my reward. Ahh, a shower and a steroid cream body mask. What a spa treatment. After that I was feeling (and looking) much better, so when Dr. Millis stopped by this evening he was happy to see me looking revived. He said everything is going so well that I might even get discharged tomorrow afternoon. The only things left on my to-do list are final x-rays and showing PT I can climb stairs on crutches. And we all know I can do that. Right?

Recovery Day 1 -- So Far So Good

My first night in the hospital after the surgery was also a fitful, fractured one. Just as during my hospital stay in March, all my machines kept thinking I was dying in one way or another -- no heart rate, no pulse oxidation, no breath rhythm -- and so the beeping started and stopped all night and thus, so did my sleeping.

Every time I woke up I felt as if a large chunk of time must have passed since the last awakening... and yet the clock had hardly moved at all. I can honestly estimate that I woke up every half hour last night because of beeping, itching or a nurse taking vital signs.

One thing that did not wake me up was pain. The epidural has been handling my pain really well; I've been at a zero on the pain scale so far. This time I don't need a CPM machine, either, because apparently it is not necessary if the surgery does not go into the joint capsule.

My recovery so far is already going better than it did after my March surgery. Although I am still plagued with itch problems (as a side effect of the pain medication), having the use of both my arms to move my body around using the trapeze pole above the bed makes it possible for me to lift myself off the bed so my back can be cleaned, my sheets can be changed and towels can be laid underneath me. Hopefully all these precautions will help keep me cool and dry so I can avoid the heat rash situation that so plagued me in March.

So by midday today I was pretty content -- zero pain thanks to my epidural, clean sheets thanks to my two working arms and my lovely nurse, and itching suppressed thanks to Nubain. And so, contentedly, I slipped into a nap.

Only to awaken with a start some time later to find seven doctors crowded around the bed in my tiny room, staring at me, clipboards in hand. I fumbled for my glasses as one of them began to make introductions and ask me questions. Putting my glasses on did not help focus my thoughts; instead it only made me see in frightful clarity that I was indeed surrounded by doctors with clipboards staring at me, awaiting my answer to the pending question that, in my panic, I had not heard. I was paralysed and made idiotic by the surprise and my self-consciousness, and so when I did start talking, I answered most of their questions vaguely and certainly unhelpfully. By the time I regained (a scrap of) my composure, it was all I could do not to laugh when I realized six of the seven were obviously rigidly earnest interns trailing a resident on rounds. (Hey, I watch Grey's Anatomy, I know what's up.)

Not to be a diva or anything, but that bed-crowding scenario was NOT OK with me. I have no problem with a teaching hospital, or with a resident coming into my room with interns to use me as a learning example. But I do not want to be woken up from delta wave sleep to find seven people in lab coats clustered tightly around my bed, scribbling on clipboards. Once you get over the initial shock, it is creepy, and then plain rude. So I politely asked my nurse if in the future I could be warned, and if necessary, awakened, before a med school field trip took a tourist stop at my room.

Incidentally, the seven doctors with clipboards were from pain services, and after having a discussion that was ostensibly with me, but really amongst each other, they decided to put me on Narcan for my itchiness. Never mind that I was already taking Nubain and Benadryl, both of which were doing the job well for me.

A bit later, PT came by to do some exercises. This seemed as ridiculous to me this time as it had when they came the day after my surgery in March. What could PT possibly think they were going to get done with me one day after major hip surgery? Apparently not much: move your feet up and down, clench your buttocks together, etc. But I guess it is never to early to start moving again.

Unlike in March, this time I seem to have an appetite during recovery. Today I ate a fruit salad and a bit of soup, which seemed to make everyone happy. Drs. LaRue and Millis came in to check on me separately during the evening; both seemed satisfied with my progress so far. And of course Dr. Millis stopped the Narcan as soon as I told him it wasn't doing anything for me and that the Nubain had been working just fine, because he's logical like that.

Off The Meds

It has now been five weeks since my surgery.

Today is the first day I have gone without any pain medication at all, and it feels fine so far. I had really been stepping down the dosage slowly prior to that, going by whatever pain level I felt. This morning my hip hardly hurt at all, so I decided to give the day a try without medication.

At this point I can sleep on my right (operated) side for long periods during the night. It feels a bit funny, but it is not painful. I sleep through the night with no problems. I am still clocking about nine or ten hours of sleep every night.

I can move my leg around quite a bit using the muscles near the hip; they are starting to recover nicely. All the exercises I got last week from the physical therapist are going very well; they are almost too easy. Only the hip abduction exercise is still difficult.

I have not been to the gym to do the exercise bike or the weight machines for my upper body -- I'm still trying to work out a membership with the YMCA up here in Connecticut. I really hope to get to the gym soon, as I feel that my sedentary lifestyle is affecting my mood as well as my body.

I am still working on getting my new 1/3 body weight weight-bearing allowance right, but the added weight isn't adding pain in my hip. Even when I've accidentally stepped on it with full weight it has not been painful, just obviously weak.

The numb spot on the side of my thigh is still there. It feels like it might be a little less numb, but it is hard to tell.

My incision has actually regressed and is not looking as good as it was in my last photo. One of the subdermal sutures has poked out at the top of the scar, creating an open wound, so I have to wear a Band-Aid over that part. The rest of the scar looks fine, but it is just redder and more noticeable than it was when I first took the Steri-strips off. I am not sure why. I am allowed to massage the scar with Vitamin E oil now, so maybe that will help.

So basically I am at the point in my recovery where I feel totally healthy, except I am on crutches. It is a very frustrating feeling. Progress was obvious before: less pain, more movement. Now everything just feels stagnant. Before I wasn't frustrated because it was very clear that I was injured and needed to rest and heal. Now it is easy to forget that all I have in those cracks is "fuzzy white stuff" and the bone needs time to heal together into a strong, solid unit again. And so it is easy to fall into the foul mood I have been in for the past three or four days.

I am not bored: I've got plenty to do, especially where work is concerned. But I don't want to do any of it any more. I am tired of this variety of sameness. I move from book to magazine to work task to TV show, I move from bed to armchair to table to couch, but it is all the same. It is all still and slow and seated. And I am really tired of sitting.

Three Weeks Post-Op

It is now three weeks post-op and things have definitely improved. Pain is down (as is pain medication), movement is up, and the incision looks amazing. Next week I go up to Boston for my 1-month-post-op visit and then we'll see how much progress I've made internally as well.

PAIN and its MEDICATION

I have far less pain now than I did a week ago, and I get by on far fewer painkillers per day. This past week I have been taking an Oxycontin twice a day, morning and evening, and filling in with Vicodin three times during the day; yesterday I dropped it down to only two Vicodin during the day. This past week I also stopped taking the Valium all together.

Because of the reduction in medication, I don't have the same skin reactions as I did before, so I have stopped taking the Atarax (although I still use the topical rash cream morning and evening in the relevant areas).

My pain is generally very low. Most of the day I am in little to no pain; towards the afternoon I start to feel an ache and that is when I take the Vicodin. If I am going out to something I usually take a Vicodin beforehand as protection, as Dr. Millis suggested, and then I am able to sit through dinners and events with no problem. I sleep well, not waking up too often, and I don't wake up with too much pain in the mornings.

Overall there has been a huge improvement on the pain front this week. Actually Dr. Millis predicted this would happen. When we spoke a week ago he said that I would probably notice a sudden lifting of pain over the next week or so; a disappearance of the constant aching pain that I'd had since the surgery. And so I did.

MOVEMENT

I have made great strides (sorry) in the movement department as well. With the reduction in pain, and the knowledge that I am not overly numbed with pain medication and am not likely to do anything that will "ruin" the surgery, I feel much less nervous about my right leg in general.

I can bend carefully in more directions and at sharper hip angles without the prior pinching; I can move my right (operated) leg out to the side or in across my other leg a little bit (not talking huge ballet swings here, maybe 20 degrees in each direction?); I can rotate my right foot inwards and outwards when my leg is stretched out before me. I can lift and move my leg more often now (which is still not that often) without using my arms to assist, but I can also tell that many of the muscles around my hip are (not surprisingly) very weak indeed and, once I get the go-ahead, are going to need some rehab work.

One thing I have not noticed with any of my increased movements is popping, grinding, clicking, snapping or any other Rice Krispies sounds or feelings coming from my hip. Perhaps that will come with larger movements, but so far so quiet.

I know that I have put a little more than the allowed weight on the operated leg at times (by accident) in the past week and I haven't had any pain result from those brief occasions. I am still under the hospital-discharge instructions to put no more weight on my operated leg than the weight of the leg itself (i.e. resting my foot on the floor), so that is what I do, but it feels like I am ready to put some more weight on the operated leg.

Honestly, with my pain so low and my movement so improved, sometimes this whole surgery/recovery/crutches thing feels fake. Like I could just throw my crutches aside and walk if I wanted to. I suppose that is a dangerous feeling because it could lead to me acting carelessly with a hip that, while feeling much better, is by no means even close to completely healed.

But it seems my naive pre-surgery superhero feelings have begun to resurface -- the ones that made me think this recovery wouldn't be that bad at all (at least not for *me*) and the ones that are making me think the doctor is going to tell me I can throw away the crutches and walk when I go see him on Tuesday. Thank God my parents never got me a Wonder Woman costume for Halloween as a child; I probably would have jumped off a building expecting to fly.

INCISION

One great reminder that none of this is fake at all is the five-inch scar across my abdomen. All the steri-strips are off and it looks amazing, see for yourself. Dr. Millis must have used skin glue or something because the incision has healed together so smoothly and so quickly. But I can't get too excited about it: he is going to reopen it to get the screws out eventually, and I don't know that it will heal up so nicely the second time around.

MOOD

I am in good spirits most of the time, especially now that the pain and itching have lessened and I've gotten more relaxed about the movement of my hip. I am not bored in the slightest: on the contrary I am relishing the opportunity to read voraciously in various media and keep up with my favorite TV shows and movies. This is the part of me that is hoping that the doctor does *not* tell me to throw away the crutches and walk next week. I'm not done with my pile of books yet!

Nevertheless, the bookworming has slowed down in the last couple of weeks as I'm back to working almost full days now during the week. I feel up to it mentally and so far I think I have been doing as good a job as I would be doing if I were physically in the office. Probably better, since I am comfortable and only have a 13-stair commute.

Recovery Day 4 -- Exit Wounds

This morning I was up by 7:00am, which is pretty much the earliest I have woken up and stayed up since I got here. I was still furious about the back issue when I woke up, which is never a sign of rationality or an omen for a positive day. My lower back and flanks were still raw and itching terribly, damp and nubbly feeling when I scratched them; I could feel the angry rash forming. This discomfort was keeping me distracted and furious, like a six on my pain scale. I'd never intended the pain scale to apply to more than hip joint pain, I tell you that.

The nurses arrived and got me back in my CPM machine (which itself is not annoying or uncomfortable). I let them know that overnight my back had continued itching as if I'd been sitting sat naked in a poison ivy beach chair for three days. I'd tried shifting position, having sponge baths and salve creams applied but nothing seemed to ameliorate the horror. Only the IV-administered itching drugs could (temporarily) keep me from trying to claw off my own skin.

The other thing that bugs me about being so uncomfortably itchy is that I know I am moving my operated hip too much and putting it in non-optimal positions while trying desperately to talc, salve or sandblast my back and flanks. I can feel that I am causing my hip extra pain and I worry that I am delaying its healing because I am unable to focus on protecting the joint in the face of eliminating the raging discomfort on my skin.

Dr. Sankar came to see me at around 7:15am. I am just so so angry today; everything is making me furious. Before I was sad and pathetic and self-pitying, but now I'm just pretty much pissed off. Pissed off at how much I am itching and really pissed off at having to use the bed pan. I'm pretty sure I have already explained properly how f'ing pissed off I am about the bed pan.

At 8:45am the physical therapist came to help me practice getting from the bed to the recliner chair beside my bed. That was an ordeal which involved me supporting myself on the trapeze and swinging my good leg to the ground, followed by the physical therapist supporting my bad leg, following my lead to keep my bad leg in the correct alignment to the good leg all the way to the floor, so that eventually I would be sitting on the edge of the bed with both legs hanging off towards the floor. Or at least that was the idea.

What actually happened was that I swung my good leg to the ground but the the PT-held bad leg lagged behind and so was shifted from its usual angle and caused a painful bursting feeling within the joint. It honestly felt like a small water balloon had burst within my hip joint. I gasped and swore and instantly began crying hysterically. Partially because of the pain and surprise, partially because of the fear, and partially because of the (probably unwarranted amount of) hatred and blame I immediately directed towards the PT-tech who had ruined the whole maneuver (in my opinion). When I finally got settled into the chair, I refused to work further with the PT tech and refused to move from the chair until 11am. Which behavior is probably why I was appropriately sent to a children's hospital to have this surgery.

By 11 my tantrum had run its course and so I moved to a commode chair (basically a chair made of a high toilet seat with arms and legs with wheels), which could be rolled into the bathroom for me to shower in. The commode chair could also be rolled over the toilet to allow me to use the toilet like a normal person without the cursed bedpan scenario.

Taking a shower (even with the unwanted and what I considered unnecessary assistance of a nurse I did not particularly like) was quite a lovely experience. Getting back into bed from the commode chair was quite the opposite. The same logistical problem of launching a good leg onto the bed while balancing body weight on the trapeze and having a bad leg guided by a PT tech made me nervous and irritated. The PT's approach to this maneuver was not making logistical physical engineering sense to me, nor did she seem nearly strong or reliable enough to trust with lifting and guiding my injured leg in sync with my good leg. Again, I was not wrong, and she ruined it (in my opinion) because the approach she was suggesting required superhuman strength and accuracy from me and there is no way any patient could have done it. So that did make me like her any more at ALL.

So I had my horrible exit from the bed, my excellent shower and chair nap, a relatively productive 12 shuffly steps between the parallel bars and a horrible reentry to the bed. Getting into and out of bed were so scary and horrifying that it almost made everything they facilitated, including the shower, the steps, the chair, the non-bedpan urination, and the easy salving of my back, not worth the fear and panic of exiting and reentering the bed.

The whole experience made me ruthlessly dislike the physical therapist and her every appearance. Luckily the next person to arrive in my room was my friend Josh, and then Dr. Millis, who said I should be able to get out of here by Sunday noon.

And the doctor told me to drink my milk of magnesia. All everyone wants me to do here is drink milk of magnesia, drink miraplex, consider suppositories, blah blah blah. I haven't eaten a thing since Sunday night, so whatever is in my intestinal tract is not exactly a Hoover-dam type blockage. But clearly the whole team is freaking about my GI tract so I'm drinking my f'ing magnesia people, relax.

Friday night I got my second blood transfusion along with what turned out to be an accidentally overly high dose of oxycodone, so the entire experience was a end-of-Pinocchio-like a nightmare of blurring memories, alien-invasion-dreams, tubes of blood going into strange machines, stretched out time, slurred words and confusion. The back/flank rash was still horrible and itchy, and I kept waking up in what seemed like a different sci-fi dream. And I don't particularly like sci-fi.

Recovery Day 1

Last night -- the night after my surgery day -- was rougher than I thought it would be. Despite being exhausted after the surgery, I kept being snatched from the edge of sleep by various distractions, both human and electronic. Nurses came often to check my vitals, and oversensitive monitors periodically became convinced that I was no longer breathing, which of course sounded an emergency alarm that brought people running to my unnecessary rescue. My sleep was fitful from all the interruptions, and uncomfortable because of the itchiness brought on by the epidural medications and the all the contraptions stuck to and moving on me.

In my bed, I was sleeping with two IV lines, three monitor leads, a pulse oximetry meter, rhythmically inflating compression leg wraps on both lower legs and my entire right leg in a continuous passive motion (CPM) machine cycling my hip constantly between 30 and 70 degrees. Cozy.

The 11pm nurse shift change brought relief in the form of a wonderful nurse who gave me Nubain (for itch) and Valium (for muscle relaxation and sleep) among other delights. I slept much more comfortably after that but I wouldn't call it cozy.

This morning Dr. Sankar came to see me as I awoke, and he said I looked very well for someone the morning after surgery. Phlebotomy followed Dr. Sankar, which caused me to mar my fine looks with a considerable scowl, as they pincushioned me for some blood tests. The scowl deepened when I found out these would be daily blood tests.

Then the physical therapist arrived, which I honestly thought was a joke. Seriously, how much physicality did they think they were going to be able to get out of me in this state? A toe wiggle? Well, that was pretty much the answer. Wiggle your toes, move your ankles, etc. They did ask me to isometrically tighten the quadriceps muscle in my right (operated) leg as much as I could. It was a strange sensation to be sending my leg muscles signals that simply did not seem to be received. The therapist laid her hand on my thigh and said she could feel my muscle contracting, so my efforts were not unheeded, but I was still numb to any response at all and the non-feeling was quite bizarre.

I spent most of today sleeping, probably making up for my poor night's sleep last night. In the evening the anaesthesiologist checked on my left elbow injury -- I still couldn't use it to help lift myself using the trapeze (the pole above my bed that can be used to lift and adjust the body using the arms) and I still did not have full extension or flexion. The pain was tolerable if I kept the elbow relatively still, but it was obviously a concern for the surgery team.

Dr. Sankar also came by in the evening to remove my "drain," a pair of tubes that had been left in the wound and led out to a collection pouch outside the body to drain away blood and fluid from inside the surgery site. The drain reduces swelling and aids in healing, and had been emptied several times since I'd gotten to my room on Monday night.

When Dr. Millis came up at 7:45pm, my last visitor of the night, he asked what my pain level was in my hip. I told him honestly that it felt like I had a machete driven through my groin. He thought this a sufficient enough reason to increase my baseline epidural from 8 to 10. The machete became a steak knife and the night passed relatively peacefully.