I apologize in advance to my 12 loyal readers; I might not be writing this report next week. In the 27 years since I began writing it, I have probably missed 10 or 15 reports, usually for reasons out of my control. Tomorrow. I will be undergoing hip replacement surgery and anticipate that I might need some time to recuperate. I suppose it is appropriate that, as I usher in my 66th year, concurrently, my body is beginning to show signs of wear. In fact, this hip degeneration has been getting worse for well over a year, but I was in denial. Shortly before the pandemic closed things down, I was finally about to throw in the towel and put myself on a list for a hip replacement, but then everything got delayed for 4 months. In that time the joint pain became exponentially worse, especially walking on irregular terrain, and I began to limp noticeably. Friends called attention to the change in my gait, but I was unaware just how obvious it had become. As of this writing, I am having trouble walking without a cane. When I went in for the original meeting with the surgeon, and he saw my X-rays, he was concerned enough to prioritize my surgery. As a primary caregiver, I have denied this problem for too long. As we approach winter, perhaps the timing isn’t great, but the good news is that to be homebound is the new norm these days.
This is an odd time to be going
into a hospital for surgery, and I admit that I am a bit nervous. Then again,
it couldn’t be nearly as dangerous as attending a Rump rally. I asked one of
the nurses charged with my pre-admission assessment if she was concerned about an
outbreak in the hospital and she said that, in her opinion, hygiene was much
better than usual in the hospital. Protocols already in place are being more
strictly enforced. The anesthesiologist with whom I spoke informed me I will
not be put under a general anesthetic. Instead they will give me an epidural to
numb my mid-section, and some Propofol to relax me. Yes, that’s Propofol, the
drug pop star Michael Jackson was irresponsibly using to help him sleep. I
asked the anesthesiologist if that meant I will be awake during the surgery, and
he said something like: “You may feel some tugging and pulling, but you’ll be
floating so you won’t care.” Apparently, recovery times are vastly improved
when the patient does not undergo a general anesthetic, and I’m all for that. I
just hope I don’t hear any sawing. Shauna wants to save the old hip bone, not
exactly sure why. Perhaps she wants to make a paperweight out of it or
something. I once saved a picture of my father’s colon after his colon surgery.
It looked a little like the Holland
tunnel, if it were decorated by Cristo. Don’t judge me.
Coupled with the obvious existential
issues many of us face right now as a species, this latest speed bump finds me reminding
myself of my blessings. I am thankful to
have been graced with good health for most of my life, and I am even more
thankful to have access to this restorative surgery. As I age, I am more mindful of my
vulnerability and my need to mind my health. There’s a line in my song “Time We
Found” which reads: I used to live my life spontaneously, embellishing my
clouded memories ...” It was a veiled reference to the fact that I used to self-medicate
regularly. I squandered too much of my time, and did a lot of foolishly dangerous
things. I am less inclined to do that now. These days, (relatively) clear-headed,
and fast approaching my golden years, I don’t take the passage of time for
granted. I no longer assume I will live a long life. As the above-referenced song
suggests, love is the antidote to those concerns. Thankfully, I have an
abundance of love in my life. I’ve been a bit discouraged of late, hobbling around
like the old man I stubbornly deny I am becoming. I hope this surgery allows me
to ambulate freely again, but regardless of the outcome, I realized we’re all
on the same train. I’m not the conductor, but the trick is to enjoy the ride.
- Written by Jamie
Oppenheimer ©2020 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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