Two days until the big slice. Three prescriptions filled (anti-inflammatory, muscle relaxer and the dreaded oxycodone). Three OTC drugs obtained (Tylenol for when I can shed the oxy, baby aspirin for a blood thinner, and a laxative because everything else will stop me up). Quick recap: for the woman who balks at taking a pain reliever, six kinds of medication are lined up on my counter, for after the three or four or more other kinds they give me at the hospital. So, to make me feel better, a million natural remedies also procured (electrolytes, probiotics, immune stimulator, liver support, digestive aids, arnica pills, arnica linament, etc.). One walker, one cane (borrowed from my mother, something poignant in this), and two ski poles, stacked up and waiting.
People keep asking me if I’m ready. Well, I’m pretty healthy — working out and physical therapy have my muscles feeling loose and relaxed. I’ve been eating well and sleeping surprisingly soundly. I have all the aforementioned junk. Friends have graciously offered to bring food and visit me. So yes, I suppose I am prepared in the material sense.
I scheduled this thing a long time ago, which has pros and cons. There has been a lot to do and arrange for, so that’s good. It’s given me a lot of time to worry about what I’m facing, so that’s bad. At this point, more than anything, I want to fast-forward to waking up in the hospital. I actually don’t dread going through this; I’m quite sure I’m going to do fine. But by now I’d rather be in it, facing it squarely, than sitting here wondering and imagining how miserable I might feel in any number of ways. I hope I don’t regret saying that.
Today I looked at images for anterior approach hip replacements. I was wondering where and how big my scar will be. That was probably a mistake. But there were two pictures I will hold on to: an older guy standing in his hospital room looking a little wobbly but genuinely alert and happy and untroubled a few hours after his surgery; and a young woman reclining in bed with her surgical dressing showing, giving the camera a relaxed and sardonic look free of misery. Somewhere in between is where I expect to be. Wobbly and sardonic. Alert and free of misery. So be it.
On Elk Meadow Road 