When I woke up this morning, I had every intention of putting in some quality writing time. First, I was going to submit a Viewpoint article to a research journal, and then I was going to write a post for this blog about the health benefits of nature as nurture. But things didn’t exactly go as planned. To be more precise, everything quickly went sideways as I sat down at the computer. But before I share the tale of my bizarre day, a little back story.
Several years ago, I blew out my right knee playing basketball. Not fun, but not too terrible considering I was back on my feet soon after a knee injection of steroids and an arthroplasty. But fast forward a few years, age and arthritis reared their ugly heads and my orthopedic surgeon told me I needed a total knee replacement sooner than later. Being like most health providers (we are often the worst patients), I chose to focus on the later part of my doctor’s advice and put off surgery until July of 2020. The surgery went well – I was in and out of the hospital the same day – I aggressively pushed through post-op physiotherapy (definitely not easy, but incredibly important), and within weeks, I was able to resume gardening, pickleball, biking, and my usual acts of mischief.
That is, until three months ago. That was when I first noticed a nagging, aching pain in my left groin when I was walking around the Krohn Conservatory in Cincinnati with Marty. And that was when Marty – playing the role of family doctor and not my husband – said to me I needed to go back to my orthopedic surgeon to rule out hip involvement.
Of course, my first response, was a definite refusal, followed by, “WTF?” But the next day, I relented, saw my doc, and followed up with a CT. Unfortunately, the CT showed considerable arthritis in my left hip joint– caused by all the previous years my body compensated for my damaged right knee. Two months and an unsuccessful steroid hip injection later, here I am scheduled for a left hip replacement next week.
Now I’m not crazy about having another surgery, but truth be told, I just want this over. I usually have a fairly high level for pain tolerance (I delivered a 10-pound baby boy and an 8.5- pound baby girl without an epidural – yes – ouch!) but the pain from my left hip has been non-stop for a few months now.
Which brings me back to my bizarre day.
So, as I sat down this morning at the computer, my hip decided to up the usual pain quotient and sent an excruciating bolt of lightning into my groin, down the front and side of my thigh, into my foot, then up again into my groin and back. I do not recall exactly what I cried out, but it must have been spectacular because Marty came rushing into the study and asked me why I was screaming in Spanish and saying derogatory things about someone’s mother.
Now up to this point in time, I never used anything stronger than Advil or Tylenol for discomfort. But at last week’s pre-op visit, my doc gave me a prescription for “the good stuff” which I could use for severe pain relief if I needed it for the week until surgery. Believing that swearing in tongues, insulting some stranger’s innocent mother, and accosting an innocent Philodendron which was sitting on my desk all qualified for severe pain, Marty calmly helped me out of my chair, sat me down in a comfy seat in the garden, and gave me “the good stuff” with a glass of water, a sandwich, and strict instructions to rest and take it easy.
I wanted to listen to Marty. I really did. But fifteen to twenty minutes later, all the colors of the flowers seemed incredibly bright and I swear the bumble bee and the butterflies that landed on the lilies next to me were all singing Staying Alive from Saturday Night Fever. And miraculously, when I stood up, the evil pain demon had disappeared and I was able to walk through my garden, eat my sandwich, and share it with the beautiful unicorn which was standing in front of me.
And that was when Marty called to me from the back porch and asked me what the hell I was doing. And that was when I told him about the beautiful colors, the singing bumble bee and butterflies, and the unicorn. And that was when Marty ran over to me and told me I needed to stop feeding THE DEER, sit down, and rest, because my body was clearly not accustomed to the effects of “the good stuff.”
And that was when the unicorn (THE DEER) flew away (RAN ACROSS THE YARD) with my sandwich.
Once I returned to the land of the un-stoned, I was relieved the acute pain had decreased but nevertheless a little sad my experiences with the bee, the butterflies, and the unicorn weren’t real. Still, l must admit, I found it unnerving that one small pill could alter my perception of reality so profoundly. Hopefully, I can make it through one more week and my surgery without needing anything beyond Advil. But I’ll keep you posted. And I’ll let you know if I hear any more singing insects or share any sandwiches with flying unicorns.
