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Sunday, August 14, 2016

The beginning of the end

Today I am seven days away from the one year anniversary that changed my life. 

On August 21, 2015 before the alarm clock went off I got out of bed and headed for the shower with my antibiotic soap in hand. I got dressed and rechecked my bag while waiting for my friend Betty to scoop me up for our trip to Presbyterian Hospital and my date with my surgeon, Dr. Carothers
Our seventy six mile trip to Albuquerque before the light of day was a little freaky. It was odd that I wasn’t really nervous. I just wanted to get the job done, having suffered pain for three to four years. Not one person I went to even suggested that I needed a hip replacement. Today thinking about all the time and money I wasted on chiropractors and therapists of all kinds makes me angry.

In July, following my intuition, I had checked out the best orthopedic surgeons in New Mexico and picked one to call for an appointment. After viewing my x-ray it took about five minutes for the surgeon to check his calendar and offer the date of August 21, 2015 for my needed surgery.  He said the surgery was not an option it was just a matter of how long I intended to deal with the pain of bones rubbing on bones. Let’s just get this over with I thought.

The date arrived and we were off. Dr. Carothers did his thing and I did mine and all went well. I was released from the hospital the next afternoon. I wanted to stay a bit longer because the food they offered was very good. Instead when my son picked me up I said I had been craving Arby’s all afternoon. It turned out to be my first experience of getting in and out of a car and manipulating a walker. Today I’m thinking- how in the world did I manage that so soon after surgery?  

During the next few weeks I got used to my limited movements and am very grateful for the help of my son, who lives with me. The thing I hated the most was the putting on and the taking off of those damn compression socks meant to prevent blood clots. It was one of the few things I really needed help with because I wasn’t allowed to bend past the waist. I was so happy when I reached six weeks and I could toss them. I wanted to celebrate! 

I endured a few weeks with a home physical therapist. I say endured because I didn’t like her approach. She treated me like a child and kept me from doing things I knew I was ready for. I finally ended our relationship and chose to go to Cibola Sports for the remainder of my recovery time. Mike Rohde is my idea of an excellent therapist. He encourages instead of discourages and his approach is team work.

So here I am seven days from the one year anniversary of my surgery. I expect when I go for my checkup everything will be fine. I am grateful that I had the courage to listen to my intuition and take responsibility for my own well-being. Of course I had help along the way, but it all began with a simple phone call and my desire to end my pain.  


  1. What a long road to recovery, Barbara! I'm glad you listened to your intuition and called the doctor to get your new hardware. It's all up from here, isn't it? Next you'll be hiking the Appalachian Trail or something (emphasis could be placed on the "something"). It's so nice to be out of pain :D

    1. PS. Happy anniversary!! You go, girl!!!

    2. Thanks Lois I knew your comments would show up somewhere! You know it's funny I almost never think about having a foreign object inside my body that I wasn't born with.It only set off a metal detector once so far and that was in the prison. Gotta stay out of there! :)

  2. Well, the good news is that airports don't use metal detectors much any more - they're usually scanners (at least, that's been my experience) and scanners pick up everything :D So stay out of that prison!

    I get to go have my first "tit-squisher" this week with the electronic implant thingie in my left boob. That ought to be interesting...