A Long Time Coming: Part II
It is day-six post-operation. I am in recovery and doing remarkably well, all in all. This is a miraculous, surprising and frustrating experience. That said, I am so lucky to be feeling as good as I do, most of the time. I am unbelievably fortunate to be surrounded by helpers; those in person and those sending prayers and energy. I am not sure exactly how others fare in their first week with a new hip, but I will make certain assumptions that not everyone responds the way I have. It’s possible I went into this with more active preparation and with a different toolbox than the average patient.
If you haven’t yet read my original post, you can catch up here. I thought this one may be shorter, but alas, it turns out that I’m just f’ing verbose.
It is truly crazy to think that I arrived at the hospital at 6 A.M. on Monday, and departed a mere 13 hours later. I was fully expecting to stay overnight; I anticipated that the pain and instability would take more time to manage. It turns out though, that my pre-op preparations were more than sufficient to help me bounce-back…
I established my ideal timeline for this surgery months in advance. I knew that no matter what, my massage practice and yoga teaching would be impacted greatly. Since I had only just gotten a new professional space, this felt like a punch to the gut. Was I really gonna bail just as I was beginning to establish a new rhythm? In order to minimize the disorder, the holiday season seemed the most reasonable window; clients would already have nutty family schedules and travel plans. Many of my yoga classes would already be canceled, so I’d need minimal substitute coverage for the remaining ones.
As many times as I have heard, “Oh no! You’re so young!” regarding this hip replacement, I couldn’t help but be aware that I was very likely more physically prepared for this than the average patient. Even with that in mind, dozens of stories came immediately out of the woodwork regarding others who’d had this procedure recently. Some were athletes, most were not, but nearly all of them had at least 10 years on me. The news was still astonishing: I have yet to hear a negative story about this surgery. Everyone says they wished they hadn’t waited so long. Many reported faster than normal recovery…those with a desk job were back at it in two weeks!
The only cautions came from the surgeon himself and the pre-op PT:
This surgery is PAINFUL.
Do NOT do yoga for three months (once the internal stitches dissolve completely), or at least wait the six weeks. (Both being way better options than the Scope, which would have kept me sequestered for six months at a minimum.)
Don’t stretch the hip flexors, the joint capsule is too sensitive and traumatized—No reaching the leg back!.
Don’t get any bodywork for six weeks. (Yeah, right. Like they know anything about actual bodywork…)
All of this sounded foreboding, so I made arrangements for yoga subs and blocked out weeks of my massage schedule, letting everyone know that the likelihood that I’d be out of service ’til the new year was high. I’m very lucky to have clients and students who love me dearly, and whom I love in return. I knew that I could go on hiatus and not have any long-term risks to my career. I’ve done it before and I will probably need to do it again in the future, so I make sure that the Richelle Ricard Kool-Aid is very strong, and served liberally at every session! Ha ha! (NO, really, I do have the most fantastic following and I cherish the relationships I have with my work-tribe. I’m very, very lucky.)
There were things other than my age (40) that set me apart from the average recipient (68) of a hip implant. Though I am genetically yoked with both hypermobility and an overactive inflammation response, I have spent the last 15 or so years working really hard to combat these internal weak points. Not only have I spent that time studying and practicing and teaching yoga, which has served to keep my joints MORE stable because of the form I practice, but I’ve also been working with allies like Naturopaths, acupuncturists, psychotherapists, Osteopaths, shamanic practitioners, bodyworkers of every ilk, Reiki masters, Bodytalkers, and others to help heal deficiencies in my whole body-mind-spirit-heart systems. I have done my best to walk all my talk. Ok, most of my talk. Dietary restrictions suck, and I admit that I sometimes spend years avoiding what is good for me and eating what makes me sick, just so I don’t have to think about it so damn hard all the time. Hey, I’m human. I pick my battles, and I’m willing to lose some as long as they taste like fried chicken and mashed potatoes.
So, when I chose to go into the operating room and invite a piece of foreign hardware into my body and life for good, I knew this particular battle would be won only if I prepared myself well. I turned to my abundant bag of magic tricks and trades, and made a plan. I would make sure that my body was ready, but so too would be my mind and heart. I in no way could afford to have doubts or questions going into this procedure: I needed to be seated deliberately in a place of receivership. It helped, of course that neither of my other options were tenable. I was not at all willing to have 6-12 month recovery, especially without a guarantee that my pain would subside. And the idea that I would continue as I had been, but start taking the pain-meds that have wrecked entire communities, made me throw up in my mouth. This was my best option, and I intended to make the absolute best of it.
I recommitted to going to the gym as well as getting on my yoga mat. I needed to maintain, if not build, my strength in order to be able to rebound. While I’m fairly sure that I’m stronger and more stable than the average 68-year-old patient, I wanted to take nothing for granted. I worked my hips and back, but also my upper body to ensure I’d be able to haul myself around using walkers and canes, without throwing all my other bits out of whack. I demonstrated more while teaching my yoga classes, keeping my connective tissue long and supple while working the smaller intrinsic muscles that would hold my new joint together. I shifted my diet and started a new regimen to combat and heal my gut dysfunctions so my systemic inflammation would be lower and my nervous system more calm.
Then I planned the softer side of self-care:
bodywork
meditation
energy medicine
froofy indulgences
For three weeks before my surgery, I took epsom salt baths a few times per week, and anointed my body with magic oils and healing balms. I doubled up my massage treatments to help increase circulation and soften the deep fascia that was about to get shredded. I got acupuncture and Reiki, and Arvigo treatments on my pelvis and belly. I meditated every day, praying with my guides and witnesses, ancestors and allies that there would be no fear, no doubt, no resistance to the process. I asked that I would be able to receive fully this gift, this technology, into my body and my life, with grace and gratitude. I reached out to my special Circle in Seattle, asking them for help in my endeavor…and they went above and beyond with their special prayers and devotions. I did not demur in the slightest when students and clients offered to light candles or send energy and thoughts. I figured that by the time I entered the hospital, I would be positively aglow with all the positivity flowing my way!
And of course, I got a fancy-pants deluxe pedicure and waxed my eyebrows.
I honestly felt better than I had in quite some time! But for cryin’ in the night, it was a full-time job getting all this work done. Not what I’d call sustainable, but I WAS prepared.
And you know what? I wasn’t nervous. Not even the tiniest little shred of angst threaded into my mind or heart. Not in the days before, or the morning of, or in the car on the way to the hospital. Not even in pre-op when they had a tough time getting my IV threaded and had to try again on my other hand. James and I were chatting and laughing about the most random things right up to the moment we said goodbye and the anesthesiologist wheeled my away to get my spinal injection. I was calm and joking even in the OR, cheerfully chastising the aids as they put stockings on my numb feet, remarking on the oddity of them moving limbs that were obviously attached to my body, but looked more like puppet parts that I myself could not pull the strings on. I even squawked and chided the anesthetist when the sedative entered my IV…that shit burns. Thankfully, everyone was laughing with me.
I woke up moments later, still in the operating room, light-hearted voices saying my name, asking how I was feeling. I was nearly immediately alert and back to joking with each nurse I encountered, curious as to how long ‘til the spinal would wear off. Trying in comical ways to move my toes, or shake my thighs. I was tired, but finely aware of myself and my environment. I could tell from voices throughout the recovery ward that my experience was far different than those patients waking around me, beyond the thick layers of curtain. “Don’t lift your head, Linda. No. Stay down. No. Keep your arm at your side. That’s it. NO! Keep your head down…this is very important. Linda, can you hear me? NO. Don’t touch your head!” There were moans n groans of nausea and pain and confusion from all corners but mine. Instead, my recovery nurse, Ylena, wanted to order me lunch and chat about the inefficiencies of floating nurses from far away departments. She was a gem. She got me mashed potatoes and ordered extra butter.
My entire experience at OHSU was a pleasant, efficient, but wholly friendly and service-oriented one. I really received excellent care at every turn. Except my one transport gal, who misjudged a turn of my hospital bed and took my sliding door off the hinges. Whoops! I was still numb so I felt fine, but I felt bad over her embarrassment.
I know that as in most things in my life, this is not a typical approach to going in for major surgery…but perhaps it ought to be. I must also acknowledge the blessing that it is to be a part of such an eclectic group of healers and teachers as I am. I have a community into which I can reach at nearly any time, and pull out an absolute master of their craft. This is not an average cast of characters, they are all miracles, and they are mine. I may not have been able to do so much for myself in those preceding weeks had these folks not been willing to trade time with me or offer their energy as gifts. I understand that this is not the community in which all people find themselves and so this may not be as accessible a path for most as it was for me. That said, I say, “Do the best you can. Take the hot baths, or long showers, read your favorite books, slow down and listen to your body, take a tiny bit of time to close your eyes and quietly listen to your breath. Use aromatherapy oils and calming music. Sleep more.” Whatever you are preparing for, do these things and you will inevitably come into your mission more grounded and deliberate, and see way better outcomes after.