Making Peace With a Worn-out Piece

Hip replacements are for older people. I know this because when you see the brochures at the orthopedic surgeon's office, they all show people much older than I. (I'm in my 40s; To quote Forrest Gump, "That's all I've got to say about that.") In the "So You Need a New Hip" brochures, the part about "resuming your normal activities after surgery" shows a nice gentleman bouncing a grandchild on his knee and a matronly woman with her sewing group. That's why, as soon as the first orthopedic specialist brought up getting a new hip, I dismissed the notion immediately.

But there's something about pain that can make you un-dismiss things pretty quickly.

In my case, it's not just the pain... it's what the pain has done. Specifically, it's made my life get smaller and I don't want a smaller life. I want a bigger life - preferably, without a sewing guild. There's nothing wrong with sewing guilds, they're just not my thing. I want to run again (maybe not gonna happen, but I have a Plan B!)... I want to fly again (will happen)... I want to captain a boat again (will happen)... I want to work circles around people half my age (still happening - will keep happening). I don't want to play doubles tennis. I like parking far away from wherever I need to be because I like covering the ground quickly. I have nothing against elevators, but for two or three floors, I like taking the stairs. I like how it feels when I get my heart rate up. Generally speaking, you need to move - fast - to make that happen.

If you're 50 or 60 0r 70 or 80 and you're reading this as you consider a joint replacement, I want you to know how much I respect you for the life you're living and the challenge you're facing. You were my age one day and (hopefully) I'll be your age someday. I don't mean to make light of grandchildren or sewing guilds. But I just didn't know people my age got new hips. Let's be honest - we all think of it as an older-person procedure. Like anything, I researched it... and, like lots of things, I found out I was wrong. People of all ages get their joints replaced. I just wish mine were something sexy like a knee or a rotator cuff. Why can't I have carpal tunnel? Tennis elbow? Turf-toe? Anything but a hip.

But it is a hip. And I'm almost OK with it. The last time I met with my surgeon he said he'd just done a hip replacement on a 29-year old that very morning. OK, see! I looked into all the options - physical therapy, joint resurfacing, more pain meds. Like doctor #3 said, holding up the titanium pieces he'll soon implant in my body: "This is your treatment." Period. Case closed.

Yesterday at work, someone asked when I was getting my new knee. This person is ten years younger than I am. I said it was my hip, not my knee, and it was happening in eight days. Then I said, "So if I get back to work and you notice I'm disappearing every afternoon around 4:00, just chalk it up to the early-bird special at Shoney's."

I figure I might as well make the jokes now, myself, as if it will somehow inoculate me to future jokes.

Truthfully, I feel very grateful for this chance. I saw a guy at a shopping center over the weekend... probably late 50s... walking slowly. I recognized the limp - he needs a new hip. Maybe he just doesn't want to do it, but maybe he can't afford it. Maybe he doesn't have insurance. Maybe he's from another country (it was an International shopping center) and doesn't have access to that kind of treatment at home. Maybe he'll limp that way for the rest of his life. Maybe each day it'll get a little worse. Maybe there's a cane in his future, then a walker. Then a wheelchair. I saw a guy on the History Channel last week - probably 70-something, lives in Holland. His family has been tending to the grave of a fallen American soldier since World War II. He had a cane and a limp... been using them both as he walks amidst the thousands of white crosses to the grave he's been tending for decades. He doesn't have the chance I have to make the pain go away... to make the limp go away. For 99.999% of history, people haven't had this chance. I have this chance. I'm not going to wimp out, just because it makes me feel older.

I'm very, very, very fortunate.