No One Told Me There'd Be Math

So hey, I was throwing numbers around like they meant something mathematical on Monday Sept. 16th. I don't even know what day it is, let alone how to do math. "Word problem' has an entirely different meaning today. The problem is - words are a problem. Pain is ridiculous, medications are plentiful but side effects suck. Everyone says it gets better. They better be right. Because I need to know the name of that damn bus driver. I think I got off at the wrong stop and he needs a talking to.

Let's Do the Math

I have spent:

13 years in Hospitality Management = very little sleep (despite a building of beds above the office).
35 years as a figure skater (17 in competition, 11 as a coach) = very early mornings/little sleep
6 months pregnant with triplets = very uncomfortable sleep
7 weeks on pregnancy bed rest with those triplets = a hospital offers very little rest
6 years (coming soon) raising said triplets = sleep?? Ha ha ha ha ha!

Yes, this is a word problem. No you may not use a calculator.

Question: What was the name of the bus driver?

Yeah, me neither.

So the moral of the story is, tomorrow I will go in for surgery where my pelvis will be broken. My husband says, not broke, reassembled. Well, not really reassembled so much as repositioned. I will be given many medicinal cocktails of varying strengths and side effects. When I had my pre-op physical, the doctor explained that Vicodin and Norco (?) can often have a stimulating effect, and Percocet can make you a little spacy. "That one", I told him. "The spacy one is what I want please."

Why?

Because I am about to enjoy the first nap I can recall having in, well . . . forever. Aww, come on now. Don't be jealous. After a couple of days I have no doubt they will rouse me at all hours of the day and night to take vitals and prevent me from resting. The good news is, when I get home, I get to nap for about six weeks.  Or until I get cranky and start swatting messy toys off the floor with my 'crunches', as my daughter calls them. We'll see how the equation works out post-op.

Independence Day

All summer I have been teaching my kids to get their own breakfast. Toward the end of summer, one of my boys was able to do it all from start to finish. Then slowly, my daughter was able to as well. Now when I tell them it's time yo eat in the morning, they go in the kitchen and take care of everything. One of the boys loves to be the 'chef', and took it upon himself to just make breakfast for all three of them. I purposely stay out of the took, but within earshot (in case of emergency), and it's really cute to hear him tell the other the 'breakfast is ready!'.

I smile to myself when I see them becoming independent. It's what my job is - teach them so they become self sufficient and contributing members of society. But I can't help thinking about my pending surgery. One that will render me DE-pendent for awhile. When I told the kids about my surgery, I told them I would need very special helpers. Someone to put my socks on, someone to make me breakfast, bring me a blanket, etc. They immediately jumped in with ideas of what they can all do. My daughter said, "Mommy, I can rub your back". Oh how I love this girl.

The whole point of teaching them to do things themselves is what I mentioned above. It started this summer so they could do things while I am laid up. But really, this is the start of independence they will always need. We often tell them, "We are family, and family takes care of each other". I think they are off to a good start.

And Then . . . A Spider Crashed My Party

Today was my last day with trainer Larry. He's been a great support and worked me hard during the last six weeks. Not hard enough to hurt myself more though. Frankly, if I hadn't been working out with him I might have hurt myself. The regular training has helped keep things in perspective. When I am able to work out again, I'll be coming back to him to get myself in optimal shape. Thanks Larry!




After a day of running around, err, driving around for the kids, with a nice lunch break with my friend Laura in between, I was ready for some girls night fun. I had cast a wide net of invitees, though only a small group was able to make it. We had a great time! Sipping margaritas (we sent Kim off to back to school night and Katherine back to work, mildly inebriated), a few nachos, outside on the patio on a still warm September night. It was all good1 I even got a very thoughtful present form my friend Charlene and beautiful flowers from my friend Liz.

And then . . .  A Spider Crashed My Party. No. Lie. Charlene saw this GIANT orange and black spider, just dangling off to the side of our table. She started talking about how she had a dream about a spider, and I slurred that 'dreams really DO come true'. Then April the waitress came out to have a look. Then another waitress came out. Then Alfredo came along with a broom. I pointed out that he should sweep it AWAY from our table. Clearly this spider had no intention of obeying anything Alfredo's broom had to say. So it jumped off it's string, and no lie, flew across my table, right in front of me, across the table next to me where Gabby was sitting and over the back side of the couches we were on. Alfredo was not pleased. My friend Marisa jumped over the back of the couch and tackled this insect, sans broom (or perhaps she wrested it away from Alfredo), and made short work of it. All this while the rest of us creamed like little girls who don't want boy cooties and scrambled out of our seats like we don't have hip injuries or imminent surgery. Well, they all did. I jumped up and then winced. But I screamed too. Peer pressure and all. (The spider is in the top center of the picture.)

After all the hype died down, it was just Liz and I. I happened to mention Abba to her, and of course she found he postage size 'dance floor' in the restaurant bar. This. Then she drove me home.

Everyone wished me good luck. But mostly my mom friends are just jealous that I am going to get a nap. A good long, drug induced nap. And then not have to get up off my a$$ for six weeks. Come on. I have to have an up side if I have to endure a broken pelvis. I'll take a nap as a side benefit. It beats the hell out of what Marisa gave the spider for its trouble.

Unmasked Dancing Queen

I have stopped taking Omega-3 supplements as of two weeks ago. I stopped taking Advil almost one week ago. Now that that has had some time to take effect, I can really feel the pain. More of what I do aggravates my hip. But I soldier on because it's what I do. I push myself. What I can push myself to do is becoming less than it was. But again, I push. Why? because next week the doc is going to break my pelvis and fix it. Very little I am doing between now and then will change anything.

What I have done however, is dance in the aisles.  We went to our friend's birthday party at a huge concert that played nothing but Abba music.  There was wine a plenty, and that was after the champagne toast. I toasted three times. I may not be able to take anti-inflammatories, but I sure do know how to dull the aches and pains.  Once that had set in I was dancing and having a great time! I knew I'd pay for it the next day, and I did. But it was so worth it. I read another blog where someone talked about the 'last time they'd do _____ ' prior to surgery. I didn't even realize I had started to do that, but I have. That didn't stop me from being a dancing queen that night. And it probably won't once I recover.

T-Stop

I had my pre-op physical. I received a surgery date and time. I paid the doctor's fee. I pre-registered with the hospital. All our scheduling is in place for the kids and the house. I am even more than half done with my Christmas shopping. Yes, really. So now that it's all set, I find myself becoming only a little bit anxious. I haven't really been nervous so far. I haven't over thought it all. So what I feel like, is that I am at a 'T' intersection. I can go left (no surgery), or right (surgery). But what I really want to do is go straight (not have a problem requiring medical attention).

In figure skating a 'T'-Stop is one way to stop moving. At a T' intersection you are facing the top of the 'T'.  The difference in skating is that the top of the 'T' is behind the other foot when you stop. The straight line is in front, pointing where you want to go next. That's the 'T' I want, where the left and right choices are behind me.

Pre Op Positive

Yesterday I had my pre-op physical, where they (hopefully) deem me fit to withstand surgery.  We are now inside the one week mark. Yikes.

In an effort to distract myself and keep things positive, I have a full week of fun planned. Tomorrow, waxing. Because getting hair pulled out of your skin is an uplifting experience. Well, for the wax it is anyway. I'll hit the gym, meet my sister in law for coffee, rip out hair from well below the follicles in my eyebrows, then come home and do art with my kids.

Thursday's agenda: lunch with a friend, pick up kids, take one kid to therapy, then - it's party time! I planned a girls' night pre-op party because I thought it would be fun to socialize with 5-50 of my gal pals. Only about 15 may actually be there,  but I cast a wide net. Why not!

Two play dates scheduled for one son. At our house. with extra siblings. Because apparently I am a chaos junkie. 

I am taking it a step further, and I got a small index card size notebook, pink of course, that I decorated with blingy stuff. Old ice skat habits die hard. Or not at all.  I am asking everyone to write something positive in it for me. A favorite quote, a thought or words of wisdom or inane funny crap. It's all good. Just something to read later on. Perhaps under the influence of pain meds.

I also got a small bag that will hang on my crutches or walker. Blinged that too. Duh. If I am going to be unwieldy, I may as well have some pink, zebra and rhinestones along for the ride. 

So far all of the distraction and planning has been very effective. We'll see what happens next Tuesday. Like the quote says, "There are no atheists at 150 miles an hour". 

Bonuses

There are plenty of good days, where my hip hurts but it's tolerable. After my Rookie Move day, this week has been tough. Sunday I played soccer with the kids with wild abandon. Ok, not wild. Ok, and not with abandon. But with energy and disregard for my hip. The result has been a less than pleasant week. I just wanted to throw in the towel and stay in bed. 

Monday I could barely walk. Tuesday I couldn't work out with my legs, so trainer Larry put me through the paces with my arms. Feel the burn. Wednesday I pushed it pretty hard on the elliptical (I had to burn off the extra peanut butter I ate Tuesday night in self solace). Today, I was finally able to do a bit more. I popped my left hip (the good side) back in last night. Great, now I am worried that I have dysplasia on that side too. Truth be told, I've been worried about that since I first had pain back in 2009. It was in my left hip first, then mysteriously disappeared. All along otherwise it's been my right hip. 

Once it popped back in I felt a lot better, albeit with some pain. I got a small elliptical work out in before my training session, and ended up walking my son to school to register for kindergarten. A long, slow walk in the hot summer sun was just the thing to . . . 

a) burn bonus calories?

2) get a tan? 

d) require a heating pad, an ice pack and a muscle relaxer? 

** bonus points for you if you get the sequencing movie reference **

Anyway, in the midst of this it hurts/it doesn't hurt week, I received in the mail an amazing item from a fellow PAO/hip sister. She was kind enough to send me a couple of extras of the bracelet she created as her personal mantra. The acronym is very fitting, and I was grateful to receive it. What I am also grateful for is the community of hip sisters that is available 24/7 via the internet. Many of the people on the lists and groups have already endured surgery and recovery. Yet they remain on the lists as wonderful resources for those of trying to sort through diagnoses, 2nd, 2rd, 4th and more opinions, and surgical choices. To that end, persevering and overcoming seems a more likely bonus heading into this weekend, rather than throwing the towel anywhere but in the laundry.

Happy Hips

Wait, am I supposed to eat this??

Many people respond, "Oh, isn't that what dogs get? I have a Lab who . . ." when I tell them I have dysplasia. I have never heard of a dog getting hip surgery. Perhaps some do. But if they can eat what's in this can and get better, how come they haven't figured out how to can something for people?

I'm in Paining

I may have overdone it. I'll see tomorrow. We went away this weekend, sans children, and did a lot of




. . .  Walking. Walking people!!! Get your mind out of the gutter,

I have been going easy on what I do for exercise the past few months. My a$$ can attest to that, but I can no longer turn around enough to see it well. Blessing and a curse. Anyway, I have been taking Advil very sparingly, though I have taken it in regular and strong quantities for at least five years now. Now that the surgery date is looming getting closer, somewhere in my once-upon-a-time-passed-for-athletic-mind came the notion of training for the recovery pain.

Me: Let me get this straight. You want to stop taking anything that helps even mildly relieve this 24/7 pain now?
OUaTPFAM: Yes.
Me: you're out of your mind.
OUaTPFAM: No, actually I'm in yours.
Me: Ha ha, very funny.  Oh crap, it's true.

Ok, so now I'm having conversations in my head with myself. If you're enjoying this, I can assure you it will only get more amusing when I am actually taking medication in recovery. Plus, I'll be way bored.

I sometimes think that if I'm not in enough pain it doesn't justify the surgery. But that's just crazy. I don't want to hurt myself by pushing my activity level too far. It just doesn't always seem like its real. The plan is this - I'm in pain whether I work out or not. So I figure I'll work out. I walked myself silly this weekend and now I hurt more. But I'm still going to the gym tomorrow. What? Because my OUaTPFAM self wants to know how much pain I can handle before I cry 'uncle'. I want to be as strong as I can be physically going into surgery. But I also don't want to leave out the most important part of training: mental preparation. So I'm in training for the pain. 

No Pain . . . No Pain.

Pain.

I didn't realize what was happening with my hip and my body. I wonder how many of us ever really do. Until there is pain. For me as a lifelong athletic person, I was accustomed to pushing through the pain, often at an cost. From age 11 when I discovered figure skating I was so committed to what I was doing that I never gave pain a second thought. Unless it was really bad. Define really bad? Unable to walk. I don't think I was ever there more than a couple of time as a teen and as an adult.

Fast forward to this year. After I gave birth to triplets five and a half years ago (THAT certainly messed with my hips), I went back to skating, thinking that would be the path to weight loss and happy ever athletic forever. I competed seven times between 2009 and 2013, with increasing hip, back and neck pain. I successfully lost weight in intervals, gained back some, but managed to maintain. I went to the gym to supplement. But then . . .  something tore. Something tore physically, which was much more than my daily mind losing schedule of managing triplets, two with special needs.

The day of my last competition I was practicing at 7am. I had a good plan of stretching prior to skating these days, careful to make sure I didn't over do anything. My husband had pointed out that sometimes discipline means holding back. So instead of attacking my skating the way I had always done, I took off the 'all business' face and patiently stretched and enjoyed what I was doing. All zen and stuff. Uh huh. It was actually pretty nice. So there I was, practicing, five hours before my event. I went up into a jump, and when I landed, it felt like an arrow doused in searing flames had been shot into my right hip. I crumbled to the ice, unable to walk. Somehow I got off the ice, and someone got my shoes for me. I hobbled over to the PT and she stretched me out and gave me directions to the local ER. I seriously considered going, but decided instead to eat Advil, take a bath and a nap in my hotel room and compete. I convinced myself that I could 'dumb down' my jumps and make it through, which I did. I even placed third. But I knew that would be my last skate for awhile, which is probably why I made myself do it.

Since that time, I have had several X-rays, an Arthrogram and an MRI. I have consulted no less than four doctors nationwide. I full expected to be told I had a tear, and it could be repaired by arthroscopy. What I hear instead was, "You have dysplasia". Huh??

Determining a dysplasia diagnosis
A normal center edge angle for a hip joint is 25 degrees. Mine is 15.

Apparently dysplasia and labral tears are very common in figure skaters and dancers. Yay for what I love taking me down.

Options:

1) Arthroscopy - this will repair the torn labrum, but likely destabilize my hip due to the underlying
issue, dysplasia. Could also cause rapid inset arthritis.

2) THR (Total Hip Replacement) - unnecessary for me as I have good bone, cartilage and joint space, and no visible arthritis.

3) Do nothing - will most certainly worsen my existing issues of pain and mobility, also possibly cause arthritis, though not as quickly as arthroscopy.

4) PAO ( Peri-Acetabular Osteotomy) - This is a preservation surgery, which allows me to keep all my bones and parts. However, it involves detaching the hip socket from the pelvis, and repositioning it correctly over the femur (thigh bone).


At first it was all surreal. I have had one major surgery, a c-section, and two broken toes. Very healthy, only stayed in the hospital on bed rest during pregnancy.

This surgery is going to require a six week near total bed rest before I am even ALLOWED to begin PT. Then 3-4 months of crutch/walker/cane dependency while I learn to balance on my newly situated anatomy. Anxious? You bet. But you know what they say . . . no pain, no pain. This is going to be painful. It better be worth it.