Robo Hip for Reba

In just over a week I'm having hip-replacement surgery.  It's surreal that the date is now just around the corner because it took me 6 months just to get an appointment with the doc at the Cleveland Clinic, and then another 6 months to book the surgery.  Not to mention, I've been waiting literally my whole life to be pain free. 

I was born with hip dysplasia, and had my first surgery to "fix it" when I was 6 month old, then again when I was 2 and then again when I was a teenager (13 or 14?) at which time I was in a body cast for 2 months, followed by traction due to complications, a year of crutches and therapy. 

I've been thankfully bull-headed this entire time, pushing myself to work through my limitations, wincing in pain but insisting on not missing out on things that the pain and fatigue would otherwise keep me from doing.
I remember my surgeon when I was a teenager admitting to me his highest hope for my condition would be for me to have a fused hip, which would entail my dragging my leg with no joint motion.  I'm grateful he didn't tell me this prediction before my rehab because since I didn't know that reality, it didn't exist to me. 

I woke up at 5:30 nearly every morning as a teenager to walk on the treadmill, mentally visualizing the healthy, stronger me who would never limp, who would run with the wind hitting her smiling face.  As I write this, I can still see the wood-paneled wall in the living room where the treadmill was.  I would stare at that wall into the wood knots and family photos hung there of my first communion and siblings' sports teams.  I saw a stronger me, and I created a stronger me--never a non-limping, able-to-run me, but a stronger me.

But there have always been limitations.  My leg has been in pain in some way literally every day for nearly 37 years.  A simple walk in the mall as a teenager would leave me staring at the ceiling in bed that night, wondering if it would be better one day.  Now as a mom, I chase after my kids, again thinking I can simply work through this and suck it up, but with one leap towards them as we play "monster" I realize the time has come to quit pretending this is simply a "mind over matter" issue.  The matter is that my hip is done.  It's bone on bone and it's causing hip pain, knee pain and now back pain.

But the paranoid side of me fears that I should deal with this and avoid surgery because what if the surgery makes it worse? What if my body has accepted this disability and somehow goes off-kilter at a pristine, perfect, manufactured hip?  I guess I'm just afraid of the unknown.  I cannot imagine what it's like to walk without reminding myself not to limp.  I have no idea what it's like to run with ease, and I certainly don't know what a day without discomfort feels like.

It's like I'm a prisoner who is being released and now is suddenly really intimidated by the prospect.  Even though my hip has been nothing but crummy to me, it's been MINE.  It's my red-headed stepchild whom I've loved unconditionally.

Hell, maybe it's time to slap that child and kick it out on its ass.

I think I needed to write this to come to that conclusion.  Hell yes.  New, robotic, perfect hip, here I come.  I can't wait to welcome you in to the mess that is me!