I want to be like the one-legged guy playing innertube water polo.

Over two years ago, I went to an orthopedist for a second opinion about my hips, and he told me I needed this horrendous surgery, in which they cut your hip bone into three pieces and then screw the pieces back together in a better configuration, on both hips. I stared at him for a while with my mouth agape, but ultimately, I didn't take the news that hard because I was sort of like, Oh yeah, right,  hahahahaha, that is sooooo never happening! Yet, a little over two years later, what do you know? It is actually happening.

It is happening in pieces, starting on July 10th and July 17th. I actually have dates set now, so it's real. A few months ago, I went in for a second opinion on the second opinion, and that doctor agreed 100% with the doctor that I blew off, at which point I finally accepted that something major needed to happen. But it still didn't seem real. I used to listen to the Dr. Laura show (don't judge me, lol), and whenever anyone claimed to be 'engaged,' the first thing she would ask is, 'Do you have a ring and a date?' Otherwise, she didn't consider it to be a real engagement. There's some truth there. Although I don't have a ring, I have crutches and a shower chair, and having a date makes it real, for sure.

It would be impossible to describe the full range of emotions that I've gone through that bring me to where I am today, and I realize it sounds melodramatic to be waxing philosophical about a bunch of freaking hip surgeries (they are HIPS, get over it!), so I won't even try. I'll just say that I'm thankful to not be on tamoxifen any more, because I'm pretty sure that all of these emotional ups and downs over the past couple of months would have pushed me over some edge, whether literal or metaphorical.

On April 15th, I went up to University Hospital to have the CT scan and fancy MRIs (dGEMRIC) that Dr. Terminator wanted. They had to be done at University Hospital because Dr. Terminator is picky about how they're done and who does them and who reads them and yada yada. So this meant I spent a gorgeous Saturday either driving to or from University Hospital, or in some tiny, hot tube. (For the record, it takes over two hours to image both hips, and by the end it's really freaking hot, especially when you have a blanket over you because it starts off really freaking cold. Fun times, fun times.) Although, I have to admit, it wasn't as bad as I was expecting. In the past, when I've had imaging of my hips (read here and here), they've injected the dye into my hip joint, which is quite painful, so I was nervous about having both hips done at once. However, this time, they injected the dye into my arm, then had me walk for 30 minutes to move the dye into my hip joints. So, yay, I got to avoid the painful injections and get some exercise. Does it get any better that this? LOL.

The scans were pretty uneventful, but a few days later, I was able to read the results on the patient portal, and they basically read like some kind of hip horror story. Just reading the report, and all the things that are wrong with my hips and the surrounding tissues, made my hips hurt worse. I love that the university system is really into sharing all sorts of information with the patients, but it should come with a warning like, DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE HYPOCHONDRIAC TENDENCIES. Although, to be fair to myself, I guess I'm not REALLY a hypochondriac, because every time I've thought there's something wrong with me, it turns out that there really is. I'm not sure if there's an appropriate term for this.

Anyhoo, I was pretty sure after reading the report that my right hip was too far gone to do the 'cutting surgery' (as Dr. Terminator's fellow called it), and that I'd need to proceed straight to a hip replacement. That wouldn't have been so bad, except that I'd spent all this time psyching myself up to have the PAO, and trying to change mindsets was difficult. In the meantime, I joined various support groups online, because like I alluded to before, most people don't get just how traumatic this hip shit really is. (Seriously, it really is. I mean, people don't really get cancer unless they've had it, but at least they get that it's traumatic.) In one forum, I got mixed opinions about PAO versus hip replacement, with many people telling me I'd be crazy to do PAO at age 42, that my surgeon must not know what he's doing, and various other remarks that made me question pretty much everything. So I turned to a Facebook group of people who live in my state who have had the PAO, and in particular, who had the PAO with Dr. Terminator. No one had anything but great things to say about him, and some even went so far as to say that he is brilliant, and that they would trust him with their life. One of the women in the group, who did not have Dr. Terminator as her doctor, joked that this Facebook group was really a 'Dr. Terminator Fan Club.' So after that, I decided that whatever Dr. Terminator recommended at my appointment with him was what I would do. I am all for educating yourself and advocating for yourself and being aware of all of your options, but at a certain point, you have to trust that your doctor knows better than you do. The reason I sought out Dr. Terminator in the first place is because I wanted a doctor with a stellar reputation whose opinion I could trust. As far as I can tell, the PAO vs. hip replacement debate is something you can argue about until you're blue in the face, much like the 'should I do chemo or not?' debate I experienced with cancer. At a certain point, you just need to make a decision and go with it. 

I saw Dr. Terminator on April 27th, and I was pretty nervous about what he might say, either way. I asked my husband to go with me to help with the questions and decisions and all that. Dr. Terminator was a bit friendlier this time, and told me that he felt he could save my hip, and that it was worth a try, in his opinion. At that point, I was really glad I vetted him, because otherwise I wouldn't have known what to think. But when several people have told you that the man is brilliant and they would trust him with their life, you feel okay putting your faith into what he's telling you. He did say that he could not promise that I wouldn't need a hip replacement down the road, but the decision I had to make was with regards to the immediate future. As he said, 'You've exhausted all conservative options. There are only two options ahead of you.' He said that a hip replacement, for me, would likely be a more complex procedure than average because of my dysplasia. So, if I did need a hip replacement eventually, even after having the PAO, the consolation prize would be that I would have a much easier time with the hip replacement. So... I decided to just go with it and not look back.

I will write more details about the appointment and the specific plan later, but for now, I want to leave with this thought. Mentally, I'm in a pretty good place right now. Obviously I'm not happy this is happening, but I'm pretty much over the woe is me part of it. (Keep in mind, I did say pretty much. I cannot guarantee that there won't be whining in the future. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that there will be. I apologize in advance.) When I told my friends I had cancer, so many of them were like YOU'VE GOT THIS! YOU'RE GOING TO KICK CANCER'S ASS! YEAH BABY! YOU GO GIRL! And that just didn't work for me. I know they meant well, but... like, how do you psyche up to try to get rid of some microscopic, rogue cells floating around in your body? It's not like you stand in front of the mirror flexing your muscles and saying, YEAH BABY, I'VE GOT THIS! HUZZAH!

These hips surgeries, on the other hand, lend themselves better to the YOU'RE GOING TO KICK SOME ASS! attitude. In this case, I'd be okay with someone telling me YOU GO GIRL! In fact, in trying to mentally gear up for this, I've had a little bit of the I'VE GOT THIS! moxie running through my head. Because I'm going to be on crutches for so. stinking. long, I can't just put my life on hold until I can walk again. I need to be able to function on crutches. I need to be strong - as in literally, physically strong (and probably emotionally, too, but we know that's not happening). So I'm getting into the best shape possible, I'm lifting weights, I'm doing everything I can ahead of time to make the rehab period easier. And because I am a goal-oriented person, it helps to have something tangible to work toward. It's fun, almost. You know, until I actually have to have the surgeries.

The other day, I was leaving the pool after coaching diving. As I was leaving, some college kids came in to play innertube water polo. One of them had one leg and was on crutches. He was obviously a long time crutch user, as he was very adept and fast on crutches, and even the slippery wetness of the pool deck - something I worry about a lot with crutches - didn't slow him down. He crutched right over to the far side of the pool deck, dropped his crutches, hopped around on one leg while passing the ball back and forth with some of his teammates, then eventually sat down and got into his innertube, at which point he looked just like everyone else. I probably wouldn't have even noticed the crutches except for the fact that he only had one leg.

And I thought to myself YEAH BABY! I'm going kick some ass. Just that guy. HE'S GOT THIS! And so do I.