In the countdown to New Hip Time, I was required to attend a class at the medical center for all joint replacement candidates. Securely masked and safe-distanced, the six of us sat - canes propped beside us - in a semi-circle, waiting to be enlightened. Well.
In my universe, I would awake on the appointed day, take a shower, check my toenails for chipped polish, pack a few things, and head to the hospital. There, I would be sanitized, anesthetized, pain-relieved, fitted with a new hip joint, then wheeled to my sister's car and scooted home.
In reality, I need to see my doctor, get a special blood test, get tested (again) for Covid, get an okay from my dentist, take extra strength Tylenol for two days prior to surgery, change my sheets constantly, changed my jimjams daily, take a shower every day for the five days leading up to and including the day of surgery, using special soap, use additional special body wipes the morning of, use a special nasal spray the morning of, drink Gatorade (never!), and more. More! I am not allowed to have anyone with me, but cannot take my phone. I suppose I am to use ESP with my sister. It is such a complicated procedure that I have to make a chart so that I don't forget anything. I suppose I should be thrilled that they take such precautions, but good golly.
As we all sat and listened in stunned silence, the other 'hip' piped up and said that she didn't HAVE that many pjs. Amen, sister. Then the RN went around the room asking, "do you live alone? Who will be caring for you the first week?" There were two of us loners - me and a long-haired, bearded fellow, wearing voluminous brown sweats. He was a 'knee'. Two of the other knees were there for the second time, both men and both with long-suffering wives in tow, who were obviously not looking forward to reliving the recovery experience. When she came to me, I chirped, "I am being tag-teamed by my sisters, who will each take a week to take care of me and anything I need." You could feel the hostility and envy being generated in my direction. Then it was revealed that I was going in as an outpatient. One of the wives seemed very nervous that there was a chance that her husband would NOT be in the hospital for two days.
My neighbor is building a temporary ramp for when I (and my new best friend, Walker - not Johnny...yet) perambulate into the house for two weeks of
shameless pampering recuperation. My surgeon does not start PT for two weeks. After spending two weeks in the loving care of my wonderful sisters, I may cry copiously after they leave. I am looking forward to getting my life back.
On seasonal note, I hope that everyone had a quiet, safe and happy Christmas. Ours was very small and quiet and just right, although we missed the NYC sisters. We did some face-time, had a lovely meal and I tottered home at a decent hour. It's looking like New Year's Day will be a repeat, which is fine and dandy by me, although I would really prefer to spend it at home with the kids. Fingers crossed that 2021 is a year of kindness and healing. And good gardening weather!