This is a raw, personal account of the my rehab journey following a Birmingham Hip Resurfacing operation on May 23rd, 2024. Initially, I was going to do a weekly update but what scuppered that idea was when my consultant, brilliant that he is, told me two things while my legs were still numb from the anaesthetic. The first thing he said was that the op had gone really well - music to anyone’s ears post-op. The second thing he told me was that the risk of infection could extend as far as six to eight week post op. This was a total downer. I’d imagined the first couple of weeks might be a bit hairy in terms of infection but two months! My primary fear had always been infection and so I simply felt unable to write this down untiI I was beyond this risk period. Now, I’m 11 weeks post op, so here goes… See also:
Day 2 Sat 25th May The day starts well enough. We have the usual video call with my mum but then around midday, I start to feel woozy, nauseous, generally awful. It seems the co-codamol is too much for me. I’m unable to eat, watch tv or even play video games! We call the hospital to run it past them and they agree that if the pain is manageable then paracetamol is enough. I agree. I mean, if you can’t eat, you can’t heal.
I set my phone alarm to go off every 50min to remind me to walk around, move. Nothing can prepare you for the first week. It's a world of elation at having got through the op, combined with the very real pain you feel. Not in the hip, not an arthritic pain, but around the entire region.
Even by 7pm, I’m struggling to eat a simple meal of chips and beans - real student food but a Scottish classic - past my lips. I looked up the half life of co-codamol - around 3-4 hours. So at least it’ll be completely gone by the time I wake up.
We watch Monkey Man, Dev Patel’s new movie. It’s great but far too kinetic for the addled mind, so we watch Brooklyn 99 instead. I can’t get to bed fast enough. Getting into bed so my unoperated leg goes first, I use the physio’s tip of using my good leg to lift the weak leg in by hooking my foot around the back of the weak leg. Gently does it.
Each night and morning, Charm takes my temperature, makes sure I’ve taken the drugs, checks the dressing. She’s amazing.
Day 3 Sun 26th This feels like the first ‘real’ day of recovery. I can eat, move a little better. Getting in and out of bed is a real pain at the moment - terrified of doing the wrong thing, it’s a steady, slow process of trying to do it smoothly. Despite what everyone tells you - apparently the hip can take up to 100kg straight after surgery - there’s a fear of it somehow collapsing or popping out.
I’m pleased to see I can lift it out of bed without the hooking tip. Progress. Pooing is a new world. I did get a riser seat to use on the toilet - anything to make the first weeks simpler. You have to think about everything: shorts and underwear down, sitting with operated leg forward, using crutches or any support to ease yourself down. Sitting on a toilet does not feel as good as sitting on a sofa, that’s for sure. It occurs to me the space between my legs isn’t even wide enough to wipe, so I have to gently allow my unop leg to move out a little to the side. 15min later, the body regains it’s purpose and movement happens. Turns out co-codamol can also make you constipated, so I’m glad that’s off the list.
After a wash, Charm helps me dress and we chill. It’s a bank holiday Sunday, so no effort needed. The in-laws drop in for a Sunday lunch. I do not feel super talkative. It turns out that no one really knows what the op I underwent is - there seems to be a misguided notion it was some kind of keyhole surgery with minimal intervention. I take pains to make them realise it’s a major piece of surgery and that I am, in fact, heroic. It’s genuinely amazing how little people know. I mean, my dad even said, so how does the arthritic hip feel now, and I’m like, it’s gone, dude!
That evening, we watch the rest of Dev Patel’s martial arts mayhem, have a light dinner, sleep. Getting into and out of bed during the night is a challenge - the combination of dark, sleepiness, blood pressure, orientation, having the crutches handy… I’ve discovered that the process of moving myself around on the bed - using the knuckles to push my body into place, while bringing legs onto and off the bed, is hurting the skin on my knuckles, so am trying to avoid getting blisters - less pain the better.
The crutches are also sore on the hands. Even without putting too much pressure on them, it’s amazing how quickly the hands hurt with this new, unfamiliar pressure. And you need them to do everything: stand, sit… TBC
