Rehab Journey Following Hip Resurfacing | The First 24 Hours & Going Home

BJG

This is the start of my rehab journey. To read about the difficult journey to accept the diagnosis and ask for a replacement hip, follow the link here:

https://community.versusarthritis.org/discussion/62722/the-journey-to-a-new-hip-a-diary-part-1

Charmaine leaves around 20:00 and the first thing I do once sensation returns to my legs is ask the nurse to help me move to the side of the bed so I can sit and pass water – my bladder feels the size of a watermelon. But after 20 minutes, I’ve past a thimble full. This is awful; I think the epidural must have had an impact on all the muscles involved in the waterworks.

I give up, the nurse returns and fills my body with a huge dose of antibiotics via the cannula. After watching a show I’m enjoying on my phone (Evil, Season 1, don’t judge me), I read for a spell then settle down to sleep around 11pm. That was the plan at least. 

After listening to a sleepcast, a podcast and then simply lying there, it took until around 03:00 before I fell asleep. Maybe the anaesthetic did something to the sleep centres or knocked the circadian rhythm off but what I can tell you is that during the time I’m awake, the bladder returned to a reasonable facsimile of its formal self and several cardboard bottles were filled, much to my relief. I also made a note that peeing in bed is awesome, once you get over the weird biomechanics of it.

The next morning is busy. Blood samples are extracted, an x-ray is taken of my bionic hip, another prophylactic mega dose of antibiotics courses through me. The anaesthetist pops in to check on me and is happy to see me eating breakfast. Charmaine arrives just in time to coincide with my consultant visiting and we’re relieved to hear him say he’s really happy – the op went very well. He also mentions that the hip was very arthritic and it’s hard to convey how unexpectedly good it is to hear that. After all my resistance to the idea, the struggle to accept the diagnosis; it feels good to have done ‘the right thing’.

The physio appears around 0930 and she’s great. I’m excited for physio - it represents the journey back to a full life. She adjusts the crutches for length, shows me how to walk, then has me in the corridor, up and down. Getting out of bed was actually way more painful than walking, much to my amazement – it’s a total surprise how hard it is to lift the operated leg. The physio is really happy and tells me she’ll be back later to see how I fare on the stairs and to provide a series of exercises. It seems not everyone can walk the day after and I take great comfort from that.

In the meantime, Charmaine and myself enjoy the sweet buzz created by the feeling of a brighter future feeling in reach. Everything feels more possible again.

Later, the physio returns with a bunch of exercises she wants me to do at home - it’s all a bit overwhelming, lots of new information and I’m afraid to miss details. Fortunately, Charmaine is scribbling away, taking notes. A second physio arrives and we tackle stairs. I’m nervous about this because I realise they will not let a person home if they can’t do stairs.

As I descend, I hear one of them saying how impressed they are, ‘it’s like you’ve not had an operation!’. I assure them I have but we’re joking about it all; they’re obvious delight with my progress feels fantastic and it transpires that if we can get the OK from the consultant, we can head home - around 26 hours post surgery.

After a series of phone calls and nurses chasing him, the consultant does at last pop in and says he’s absolutely happy to let me go. I had reached a point of total acceptance – I had no problem staying another night but suddenly it’s hard not to get very excited. There’s nothing like your own bed.

A nurse examines and changes my dressing, showing Charmaine what she’ll need to do when we get home, then a pharmacist arrives with a bunch of drugs and instructions - honestly, it’s too much to take in – a series of chemicals I’ve never heard off alongside times of day and doses. My brain is full and is basically responding with the equivalent of ‘whateva’. Everything we need to know is written on the boxes, it’ll be fine.

Around 1800, a lovely porter gets me in a wheelchair and takes me down with Charmaine to her dad, who’s there to drive us the hour home. The front car seat is as far back as it will go and at a good, low angle, so I gently ease in and we’re off, homeward bound. My brain simply can’t process how much has happened in a day – for the staff at the hospital, it business as usual but for the people who go in and out, it’s life changing. Arriving home feels magical – there is nothing I want more than normal. TBC.

Janlyn

@BJG Well done, looking forward to the next instalment!