It’s been hectic again of late…which is tolerable, for short periods of time. I very much prefer ordinary, mundane routine. Much better for my creative faculties.
Finally got the word and will shortly have my second hip replaced. Just in time too. The right side had collapsed and I’ve been walking like a peg-legged pirate. More pain manifesting itself, my upper body out of whack, so when the surgeon’s office rang me up, I felt nothing but relief.
I think I sensed something coming. The COVID numbers were down, I’d heard elective surgeries were restarting…something must have clicked. For the past month-six weeks I’ve been working like a dog, writing and editing a new one-act play, as well as toiling on three other, separate projects. Haven’t been this productive in awhile—and now I’ll have to take an enforced break to recuperate and rehabilitate my right leg. No use trying to write anything with a Dilaudid-clouded brain; I’ve tried it before and the results weren’t pretty. Get off that shit ASAP and on to a regimen of Tylenol, Ibuprofen and, possibly, CBD oil.
Brought up some treasured movies from downstairs for comfort viewing and have found three or four old sci fi classics on YouTube I intend to giggle my way through. Stuff like “This Island Earth”, “Invaders from Mars” and Jack Arnold’s “The Space Children”. No superstars, no CGI, no production values (sometimes)…and whole orders of magnitude more fun and entertaining than today’s empty-headed, multimillion-dollar blockbusters.
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Like everyone else, I’ve been watching events in Ukraine with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Putin still thinks he’s living in the 1950s and 60s, that a powerful country can just roll into another and impose its will. But these days the world is far more connected than he supposes and this episode will not end well in terms of his imperial ambitions.
As for those beating the drums of war or, at the very least, demanding a more active role for NATO/EU in that volatile region, a (God help us) “no fly zone”, let me remind you that since the end of the Second World War the major superpowers have scrupulously avoided a direct confrontation. The results could escalate too quickly for either side to control, with horrific results. Putin and his minions are vulnerable to sanctions, especially if the West gets serious about cleaning up its banks and financial institutions so they are no longer able to launder the ill-gotten gains of the oligarchs.
The reliance of the European Union on Russian oil and gas was always worrisome, valuable leverage that Putin could employ at his discretion. Now is the time for the E.U. to act dramatically to reduce its dependence on fossil fuels, accelerating Green energy initiatives, becoming entirely self-sufficient.
The Russians have also finally raised enough alarms that NATO seems prepared to reinvigorate itself, member states pledging more money to their armed forces, adding life blood and relevance to what was previously a sleepy, moribund alliance. Even Finland, long an outsider, is thinking of joining up. Surely not what Putin intended when he embarked on this quixotic quest to return Europe to its pre-1989 boundaries.
That isn’t the only unpleasant surprise he’s experiencing and it won’t be the last.
In this instance, his reach has far exceeded his grasp and he’s about to get his fingers very badly burned.
It’s been six weeks since my left hip replacement, time for a status report.
I am able to do this because I can finally sit for extended periods without getting too sore, something that has only been possible for the past 14-21 days. Which, of course, plays hell with my writing routine; I’m used to being sedentary for many long hours but that may well be a thing of the past. Also might have to invest in a standing desk at some point—hey, Hemingway used to write standing up so maybe it will be all right.
The first few days after surgery were the toughest. Thanks to the blessings of good health I had never spent a single night in a hospital and so being immobilized, reliant on others for my basic needs, took some adjusting. The surgery itself went without a hitch. I was given a spinal, which meant I was partially conscious during the procedure, listening as the surgical team bored out the hip socket to better fit the new titanium ball they were installing or tapping in some component, the force of the impact shaking my body on the table. I was lucid enough that at one point I asked to see the original ball and they brought it over, showing me how it was pitted by arthritis.
“Good riddance, you sonofabitch,” I murmured, a remark that drew chuckles from some of those present.
Post-op, pain management became very important. The night of my surgery, after the spinal anesthetic wore off, the nursing staff plied me with Dilaudid, Tylenol and some sort of nerve pill to take most of the edge off. On a scale of 1-10, my discomfort level probably peaked at 7 (I think I have a pretty high pain threshold). Each day afterward got better—by Thursday (day after surgery) I was able to sit on the end of my bed, standing briefly, and by Friday the physio people were wheeling me down to their little gym to teach me how to climb stairs, get in and out of the shower, etc.
Have to say, the worst aspect of the whole experience was getting fitted for a catheter. I was told that, ahem, older gentlemen tend to have a bit more trouble restoring their waterworks after a spinal and often a catheter is required. I get that…but it took three separate staff members to perform the procedure, which was no fun at all. My privates aren’t used to being manhandled by strangers. I was delighted when that sucker was finally removed…although the first time I went to relieve myself, it felt like I was pissing napalm.
My incision healed up very quickly, no complications with infection or draining. Once I was back home, I was contacted by our local hospital physio department and every week went in for a consultation and exercises to restore the damaged muscles. I was meticulous about doing said exercises and made speedy progress.
At the moment, I am only using a cane (see: below and note the Bruin colors on the knitted sock my wife had made for me) for trips out of the house and the new hip seems to be performing up to expectations.
The bad news is, the other hip also requires replacement, so I’ll have to go through this again in another six months.
At least I’ll know what to expect. Osteo-arthritis runs in our family, unfortunately, a genetic predisposition I would gladly do without. My hands and lower back are also afflicted, which doesn’t bode well for my sunset years.
But I’m grateful to be back on my pins again, on the mend and looking forward to a more active, pain-free future.
Many thanks to Dr. Anthony King, his surgical team and the nursing and support staff at Saskatoon’s City Hospital for their first-rate care. Hopefully I’ll be renewing acquaintance with them this summer, getting the right side dealt with, and then enjoying my new-found mobility, playing with the grandkids and feeling like, quite literally, a new man.
“It is not enough just to identify a symptom and eliminate it, with either medicinal plants or the intervention of positive magic. To heal the body, one has to seek realignment, not only with the supernatural realm but with the Earth itself, the source of all life. It is movement through sacred geography that makes atonement possible. This is the meaning of healing. To make whole. To be holy. To give of oneself to the Earth and thus rediscover balance, the foundation and essence of well-being.”
-Wade Davis, The Clouded Leopard