The Funny Thing is...

I try to find the humor in everything. It keeps me from focusing on the stuff that isn't so funny. Not-so-funny today: My guts feel like I've been hit by a canon ball. Funny today: My obsessive hatred for the guys who yell "Get in the hole" when Tiger Woods strikes the ball during a televised golf match. Like somehow yelling at the ball will make it comply. My new mission in life is to track down every one of those guys and have a chat with them. Even with hundreds of satellite TV channels, there's not much I want to watch on TV lately. I've been watching the U.S. Open from Torrey Pines - the preliminary rounds and now the semi-final round. I never watched this much golf in a three-day period. And those guys who yell "get in the hole" are really getting on my nerves. That's probably a good thing, focusing on them rather than my own discomfort.

A moment about the general stomach/GI discomfort: Anesthesia, narcotic pain medication, lots of time horizontal: They all add up to a less-than-idea scenario for digestive health. Ride it out, expect it. This is also on the list of things I didn't expect, but now make total sense. I have a great appetite - I'm just running out of room to put stuff.

Focusing on the positive, if not funny, today: It's Sunday, now the fifth day post-operation. Although last night wasn't what I'd call a "good" night, it was certainly the best since the procedure. I got more sleep than the other three nights combined - and I stayed ahead of the fever. It was sooooo nice not waking up feeling like I'm on fire. I still have a small fever, but nothing like I've been experiencing thus far. Last evening, I tried to get out ahead of it using a combination of Tylenol and a wonder drug in my freezer called ice. With Hettie dutifully running back and forth to the fridge, I was able to keep ice packs on the incision, on my neck (big veins and arteries there - cool the blood there, it helps cool everything), on my back, on my leg. Using ice-packs is only mentioned once in all the myriad of printed materials I was given before and after my operation, but I'd have to elevate it to the status of "really important" and put it on the short list of things I'd recommend to someone going through this experience.

Today, my operative leg (I'm trying not to say "my bad leg" because it's not really bad, y'know?), hurts a ton. I suspect that's not entirely unrelated to the major surgery of five days ago - and the big time amount of movement I tried to accomplish yesterday. At one point, I was on crutches going up and down the driveway in what I could only describe as "gimp sprints." I was trying to go fast, actually get my heart-rate up, but I have all the mobility of an aircraft carrier. Maybe not the best thing. But I do think it's important to push - and this a part of the new paradigm of contemporary hip replacement I wanted to present and document in this blog. I just couldn't find a day-by-day report of how someone was doing, the challenges they faced, the setbacks they experienced, in the modern era of minimally-invasive, "stand on it as soon as you can take the pain" hip replacement surgery. So I'm pushing.

Another challenge I'm facing is my own inability to control much of the world around me. Hettie and I are both strong personalities, both very proactive people. It works great when we're travelling: You wait for the luggage, I'll get in line for the rental car. You get our gear on the boat, I'll set up the underwater camera. We find a way to channel both our respective desires to run the show by dividing the duties in a way that actually advances our mutual agenda. Well, over the past five days, there hasn't been much dividing of duties. Intellectually, I knew that would happen - but until you live it, it's hard to appreciate what a challenge it would be. I still want to control things, like how much water gets put on the three little patches of sod we put into our back yard a couple of weeks ago. I'd managed to nurse the sod through two of the hottest weeks we've ever had around here - and it had stayed pretty healthy. My regimen was simply water, lots of it: Early in the morning, again around lunchtime, and again around sunset. I worked at a golf course once, watered the greens, read a memo about getting the vulnerable grass healthy in the heat, therefore I'm an expert in this area. Plus, my sod has survived so far. Well, Hettie has other ideas, like "Well, the ground was still wet from last night's rain, so I didn't water it this morning. And at lunchtime, the roots were still damp."

These are the some of the moments that challenge me the most - realizing I'm not in charge and being subject to someone else's Plan B. My wonderful wife has done a great job dealing with my ups and downs, my annoying needs, my fever, my pain, finding a step-stool to help me get into bed, trying to figure out if I need a straw with my drink, a million little things. She deserves a medal. Honest. But I've explained that I don't want or need subjective input on a few things - and my little patches of sod are one of those things. Even if I can't get out there and do it, I still need to control the outcome my way. Sometimes you don't need an opinion, you just need an extra set of arms. I'm getting lots of opinions lately. I'm sure I'd be doing the same thing, if I were her... presenting alternate ideas on how to handle things, trying to figure out a better way to do this or that. Actually, this is one of the potential problems I anticipated going into the surgery - and we even talked about it. I said something like, "It's going to be important the each of us dial back the amount of control we're used to having on things. I'll need to trust your judgment sometimes - and you'll need to trust mine. There's not always a right or wrong - there's just a 'do it this way' and that's what needs to happen."

It's important, however, to be open to each other's input. There's a fine line between her simply annoying me with a suggestion and her actually helping me with a suggestion. Getting in and out of bed is a great example. When you're in excruciating pain, trying to back onto a bed without swinging your hips... probably not the best time for backseat driving. But she almost always really does have a good suggestion. So I try to listen. For her, it's really a no-win situation - like when you were a kid and you'd hold a flashlight for your dad while he worked on something. You try your best, but he's frustrated and you're going to bear the brunt of that. It's really not about where you're pointing the flashlight - it's more about the misery of the person trying to complete the task. So I know it's been tough for Hettie - I know it would be tough for any caregiver.

For the patient, I think the important thing to remember is that the person giving the care is just trying to be helpful. They're not trying to get on your last nerve, not trying to diminish your worth as a human being, not trying to take away the last big of control you have in your world - they're trying to help. And that's a good thing! For the caregiver, I think it's important to realize you're dealing with someone who's in a lot (someones a real lot) of pain - and someone who has very, very little control of their world. And keeping a little bit of control is really important. It really helps when I can get myself in and out of bed, even if I'm not doing such a great job of it. It really helps to let me adjust my pillows myself, even if they look like a mishap at the marshmallow factory. Let me handle the tiny stuff - I need you for so many, many things.

The good news is that we had a great relationship going into this experience and we'll have a great relationship afterward. As long as she doesn't start yelling "Get in the hole!" when Tiger hits the ball.

Seriously, patient and caregiver alike: Think through this stuff, prepare yourself for your shifting roles. Like a lot of what I've been through the past five days, it ain't easy and I wasn't fully prepared. But I'm confident it'll be well worth it. Day five - I'm still glad I did this. And I'm definitely glad to be going through this with Hettie. I doubt anyone else would put up with me!