Surgery From the Other Side of the Scalpel

Surgery From the Other Side of the Scalpel

-By Tom Garrison –

I’ve reached the age (71) where body parts begin to wear out. Probably everyone has had, or knows someone who had, a major surgery. Mine was a right hip replacement in early February.

For many people this might not be a big deal. For me, and my wife Deb, it is a very big deal. The biggest worry about this surgery was anxiety over losing the lifestyle I love. I’ve always been an outdoors guy, especially the last 40+ years being married to Deb. We are desert rats and have been on more than 230 different hikes all around the Southwest. Since retiring and moving to St. George in 2009 I’ve written four hiking books (and three non-hiking books), and had more than 140 articles published, most of them hiking stories. We take outdoor life seriously. The idea that I may not be able to hit the trail again is sobering.

Added to that specific fear is the knowledge that even with the best surgeon and operation team and top quality equipment, sometimes something unforeseen happens and the patient dies. It doesn’t happen often for this type of common surgery, but the probability of unexpected death is above zero. That tends to focus your mind. On the morning of the surgery, I told Deb, “If I manage to die during this operation, I want you to know I really liked being married to you.”

So, what is it like for an active, but old, guy to go under the knife?

The past year my life was dominated by pain—sometimes intense, sometimes not so much. I was suffering from a decades old autoimmune disorder that kicked in big time in early 2022 and triggered rheumatoid arthritis in several joints and revealed a right hip badly deteriorated with osteoarthritis.

Pain is a two-faced son-of-a-bitch. Those of us who have experienced intense pain know it makes life miserable. On the other hand, without pain as a warning system you could cut off a finger or two and not know it until you saw the result. Pain is your worst enemy and best friend.

In my case, pain, although horrible, is a good indicator telling me not to move my leg in a certain direction. It hurts for a second but is preferable to no awareness of pain and grinding away at what bone is left in my hip until my leg dangles from a few ligaments.

The phrase “takes your breath away” takes on a new meaning when severe pain is a frequent companion. That surprise gasp when you see the Grand Canyon for the first time or just about any visit to Zion National Park is due to awe. But that gasp when pain hits is not awe of the grandeur of nature, it is the awe of practically being floored with pain when you inadvertently move your leg the wrong way.

How was the surgery experience? I learned a lot.

For example, the old adage that doctors have crappy writing is true. The handwritten instructions from all the medical people who helped me—doctors, nurses, physical therapists, physician’s assistants—were often hard to decipher. It’s a good thing Deb is good at making sense of illegible handwriting. Do they teach poor penmanship in medical schools? They all, of course, wrote in cursive. No problem with that. I learned to write and read cursive back in the stone ages when every child learned it.

Balancing that, without exception, all the medical people were pleasant and extremely helpful. The pre-surgery, surgery, and post-surgery have gone well. No complications and quick healing.

On the positive side of major surgery is the necessity of picking up some new skills and knowledge. I now have mastered the art of walking with a walker and walking with a cane. I also know how to screw my body into all sorts of contortions to avoid pain. Clumsiness of movement is no big deal when you don’t have major surgery. Doesn’t much matter how you get in and out of bed. However, getting in and out of bed after hip replacement surgery is like wrestling an octopus—legs and arms everywhere, just not those half dozen places triggering deep pain. Don’t even think of gracefully getting on and off the toilet.

I’m thinking of entering the “Hip Replacement Exercises” event at next years’ Olympics. It was drilled into me to daily do the required pre and post-operation exercises to strengthen muscles. I followed the exercise regimen, and it must have worked since my recovery is going well.

Prior to this operation I never drank a protein drink. Another part of the pre and post-operation routine is to drink one protein drink per day a week prior to and two weeks after the surgery. It helps build muscles and repair muscle damage. The drinks taste horrible. Some enterprising entrepreneur needs to develop a protein drink that does not taste like flavored chalk.

I also learned that friends, and people I did not know were friends, reached out with encouragement and support through this ordeal. Thanks guys and gals.

Finally, I have also earned my internet MD degree. I assume most folks faced with a major surgery do considerable internet research on the operation. I now know the difference between anterior (front) and posterior (back) approaches to hip surgery. I could probably do the surgery myself. (On myself? No.)

Was it worth it? Yes, I no longer fear being crippled in a couple of years due to osteoarthritis eating my hip. Any pain in my right hip? Nope.

It’s almost like I have a new hip. Wait, I do.

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