I have never done the splits in my life – until this week – apparently.
To explain; I knew I had a bit of osteoarthritis in my right hip back in 2018 but nothing serious; things changed over the winter of 2020-21 and my range of motion and flexibility on the right-hand side of my body became more restricted and long-distance walking was painful, not in the hip itself but in the larger muscles such as the quads and glutes. An MRI in March confirmed that my right hip was worn out and I was referred to a consultant surgeon in May with the result that a total hip replacement was booked for 10 August.
To say that I was shocked is an understatement. I have been one of the fortunate people; healthy – no major illnesses, no broken bones, no cancer issues, no long hospital stays. Both my parents suffered from chronic ill-health through no fault of theirs; my mother had rheumatic fever as a child which left her heart valves damaged and she died at the age of 52; my father was run over by a bus at 18 and suffered circulatory issues in later life – he died at 67. I considered myself to be lucky, to have the right genes – call it what you will, but now I felt let down and even betrayed by a body that had served me well but now was broken. However, I decided to look at it a bit like a car that’s done 100,000 miles and needs a new part; I’ve done my three score and ten and need a new ball and socket joint – get on with it and enjoy the rest of your life.
So as the day approached, I confess to feeling very apprehensive about the unknown. Some people seem to spend regular periods of time in hospital but it was all foreign to me. I discovered that going into hospital is not just a question of rocking up with your overnight bag – oh no! The amount of pre-assessment and testing is extraordinary but very necessary as I realised. With the arrival of COVID-19 infection in our hospitals it has pushed the importance of MRSA infections into the background but it still exists and I was tested for both plus my general health was checked, blood and urine samples taken on multiple occasions, ECG, blood pressure. Luckily, I passed all the tests and was allowed in – what a relief!
The planned hospital stay is very well organised – you go into hospital on the day of the op itself. I felt like I was on a conveyor belt and couldn’t get off – there was a little voice in the back of my head saying “you’re fine, why are you walking into hospital perfectly ok and then coming out on crutches and having to learn to walk again for 6 weeks?” My son arrived to pick me up and suitably masked we drove off to the hospital – due to COVID rules it was good bye at the door and I was delivered, literally like a lamb to the slaughter. The nursing staff were absolutely fantastic – we went through all the pre-op checks and I was kitted out with very attractive blue pressure stockings and red non-slip yoga socks; the consultant anaesthetist and surgeon came to see me in their fetching pink scrubs. The latter very laconically drew an arrow in marker pen on my right thigh and said ‘see you soon’. You have to keep telling yourself that this is what they do every day and you must have confidence in their ability. Then I had to wait 5 hours before my turn came – I mulled over the management of the lists. Where did I want to be on the list, which was the best position? I didn’t want to be first as I felt they needed to get their eye in and by the same token I didn’t want to be last as I thought they might be getting a bit exhausted with the sight of yet another hip joint and an elderly butt. As it turned out I was last, but it was all a bit late by then…. Luckily, I had taken in my latest knitting project which kept my hands busy and my mind off things. I was really thirsty and was allowed a sip of water – sponge and stick came to mind.
The orderly came to get me! A quick change into a hospital gown, contact lenses out, last pee. My bed disappeared before me and was put in recovery to wait for me. I put on a long cardigan on to preserve my dignity as we strolled down to theatre. In the theatre area it was buzzing, music playing, a lot of laughter – seriously this is my body here! In the antechamber the anaesthetist got a canula into my left hand which took a bit of fiddling around as I don’t have the best veins in the world and then the spinal anaesthesia was administered – it was 16.30.
So where does doing the splits come in? Well in order to replace the head of the femur the hip joint is dislocated and as you can imagine that means getting your leg into a pretty amazing position and hence why your muscles are bruised afterwards and it feels like you’ve been kicked by a horse!
I woke up in my bed in recovery feeling like I had woken up after a good night’s sleep and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief that it was all over; I was out the other side and could start recovery – it was just extraordinary. We were all chatting away and I marvelled at the difference between the old general anaesthetics which left you feeling muggy for days and the new sedatives which are of short duration and you feel normal!
Back on the ward, a cup of tea and smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches appeared – I was just desperate for a cup of tea. Legs were still numb and remained so until about 23.00. Getting out of bed was not an option and so I had to use a bright yellow plastic bedpan. Now for men, having a post-op pee is easy – slip a bottle over the penis and there you are. For women, you have to hoist your somewhat numb and bruised arse up and have the pan slipped underneath – it’s not easy let me tell you. Also peeing lying down is not natural – I learnt the cough and pelvic squeeze technique which really worked! The nurse’s delight at my ability to pee was almost equal to my own and I certainly felt that I had got over the first hurdle and possible won a gold star, not to mention avoiding the necessity of a canula!
The first night was not comfortable, as your vital signs are checked at regular intervals and drugs administered as and when required. There are buzzers going, lights on and off and it was so hot! I came up from theatre with blankets, a heated blanket and duvet. As the night wore on, I shed them all and ended up with a sheet and thin blanket. The bed pan was needed more than once because as soon as you start peeing you think you might want to go again. I was glad to see the light of dawn and to have survived the first night.
These days recovery is fast and I was helped out of bed after breakfast and with the physio at hand took my first steps with a Zimmer frame and walked to my bathroom and actually sat on a loo normally. Hallelujah! Washed and dressed I did feel a little light headed as the blood pressure was still a bit on the low side. After an hour or so sitting in a chair the BP had equilibrated and I was whisked off for an x-ray and in the afternoon got used to arm crutches and did a walk around the corridors and a flight of stairs – so within 24 hours walking and stairs – quite extraordinary.
Night two was so much better and I did get 3 good blocks of sleep and felt so much better for it. I was booked in for 2 nights and so discharge was on the horizon – apart from one thing. Every time a nurse or health care assistant entered my room the question was “have you opened your bowels” and of course the answer was no. I am one of those people who like my own bathroom to perform in and even on holiday take a few days to settle in. Not in hospital – the only option was disposable gloves and a suppository – OMG. I’m happy to report that it worked and I was cleared for release after lunch. At 15.00 my friend arrived and my cortege processed out to the main entrance – two wheel chairs were needed – one for me and the other for my goodies, which included the raised toilet seat and surround, crutches and pack of dressing aids.
Home to recovery and a huge thank you to the staff at the Horder Centre, Crowborough.