Yeah, no one's probably gonna read this. Oh, well, here goes some liquid soul.

There is a noble woman who wrote a hip blog.

She wrote at the end something very true -

"In the end, we can sit around and log every moment of discomfort, each twinge and ache, and try to create some sort of five-year viability projection out of safety pins and scotch tape, or we can recognize that we've tangoed with the MRIs, the CT scans, the arthroscopies, the surgeries, and of course, the raised toilet seat, and it's time to just have a life."

- As she said goodbye to her blog. She said goodbye. And I'm still trying to.

I apologize. This will be the only really Psalm 137 post - the only post without hope.

Not that it isn't there.

There are mornings when I feel some Lamentations 3,

but I don't feel like feeling it.

I never mourned. I didn't think I needed to.

I never cried for my hips.

But really, I lost a part of myself and needed to mourn.

Most of the pain is gone, but instead I have this feeling that I can't look anyone in the eye because my mind is still in a wheelchair.

Not all of the time, but some of it.

I was strong. And now things are having a backlash.

My screws are out, but not all of the pain is.

Most of the pain is gone, but every couple of days I have to quietly squeeze the arm of my chair because of nerve spasms.

I'll always have a reminder of the fact that I'm not normal.

That can be a good thing. But I'm not feeling it too much.

For pure business, my screws were taken out on June 30. Yes, they are very pretty.

No where did I leave you last...?

Hmm...good question. I think it was in the Recovery Room. OOOKay.

From the recovery room they moved me to my room in the - get this - pediatrics ward. YEAH! What are the pluses of the Lebonhuer ward? Nicer nurses, prettier room, lots of movies, free ice cream, nicer (possibly) pts, and carpet. I had a blast. Okay, as much of a blast as I could have in the circumstances. I think the DVD/VCR was one of the best parts. I watched Finding Neverland (very good, by the way) and ate vanilla ice cream. I'm a big fan of vanilla ice cream. I even dreampt about it last night.

You know what amazes me? The fact that the technology has changed from when I was there 6 months ago. This time, I had a nice little pain pump. This pump sent numbing medication through my back and directly to the muscles around my hip, which really cuts down on some of the pain medication taken. It's kind of funny to feel the numbing medication wear off, though. Sort of akin to a muscle spasm. Also, this time I had feet inflations. As opposed to calf inflations. Why inflatables anyways? The inflation, and hence pressure, on the extremes that there's a good chance you won't be moving increases blood flow and stops your feet from falling off. It's much like massaging the feet to increase circulation. But this time around, they had the little inflatables on my feet. Why is this such a monumentous relief? Because imagine having m0ving plastic around your legs pretty much 24/7. It gets hot and sweaty real fast down there. Having it on the feet kind of changes most of that. My sweaty calves grin in relief.

What else comes with hospital visits? Visitors. It's always fun to welcome friends in your room. And it's kind of an incentive not to wallow in your pain and selfness. Cause people are gonna see that. And you might as well get cleaned up a little before the nice visitors come. And the boys. ;)
Ach, but I dramatize. With the visitors also come the mean pts. And this time, I lived up to the expectations. I fainted, or almost fainted again. I have a terrible habit of doing that. But by the third day, I was able to walk down the the nurses' station and back. Mission Accomplished.


By the way! Let us remember today a fellow hip sister, we shall call her, even though she does not own a blog. She goes to my church and just received a total hip replacement. A speedy and safe recovery to you, Kesha Burns!

If you haven't noticed....

I've already had the pre-op, surgery, and have come home already. Oops. Ok. My power was out until the day I went to the hospital, so that's half my fault. But still my fault. I apologize.

Pre-op: Normal. They took blood, and it was icky. I swear, I have track marks now! Ok. Mostly on my stomach - of all places - but they're there! Next day:

Surgery: ick. I had the same prep nurse! And that was an up. I love that lady. She's one of those people that are so blunt and down to earth it makes you smile. While I was laying there, in the bed, Mrs. Donaldson walked in! She had come with snacks. Mostly for my parents because I couldn't eat. It was pleasant to see her, especially because she was her summer-self, which is very more relaxed than her school-self. After a few words, she departed and I followed soon after, except I went to the block room. Oh, the block room. You hate it because it introduces to your life wires and tubes that are somehow connected to your person. But you love it because you stop caring when you get in there. It's great. Next stop: OR.

Recovery room: Surprise! I remember it! I wasn't throwing up and in a half-dazed state talking about nutella and ravioli. I was fairly lucid and able to remember the doctor, then my father, then my mother.

Well, I'll see you in Lebonhuer when I post again!

PAUSE! RETHINK! Ok - you may proceed.

Yes. Pause. Because, the date of my surgery has been moved. Yes, I repeat, my surgery is not on Thursday, but on next Tuesday the 16th. Why? My doctor's son is graduating. Yay him. Meanwhile, I don't want anyone showing up to the hospital and crashing Germantown Methodist when I'm not there. Reminder: "Have fun storming the hospital!!!"

So, my pre-op got moved to next Monday, and my surgery is next Tuesday. If you want to visit me, and I'm definitely not against visitors, please come on Wednsday or Thursday. Because, while I love visitors, I really don't think I'll be very relieved to see you on Tuesday. Judging from last time, I may be passing out and vomiting, which is not really the point where I want to welcome someone in and hug them. I want to see you, and I want to enjoy your company. I love you all!

Please don't show up this weekend!

A bit of a recap - a refresher!

T- 14 days

Everywhere I turn, there are decaying blog posts - on my blog as well - except one at one blog. I hope that this summer will revive these writings. By the way, today is the first day of my official summer and I shall celebrate it by updating my writing with the songs I am listening to! *The Summer Obsession* This whole week I've been up and about and at the school doing things and this is the first day to sleep in (well, mostly) and not have to do anything, even though I have been doing some things. But this is it, man!

Well, since I actually haven't talked about the medical side to Periacetabular Osteotomies in a while, I shall refresh everybody's memory including mine. Periacetabular Osteomy is a fancy way for saying: "We are going to cut open your hip, disconnect the socket, and turn it around"! Well, hopefully I won't be going in a 360 degree angle! Haha. *I Am the Highway, Audioslave*

My story, and why my situation is so unusual: This surgery, called a PAO, is used mostly on people who have developed hip dysplasia. Hip dysplasia is a condition developed by people, usually women, whose femoral heads have become dislodged from their hip socket, or their acetabulum. *Blow up the Outside World, Soundgarden* Now, there are two kinds of people who get hip dysplasia. There are those who receive it as a birth defect and those who develop it later in life. Those who develop it later in life usually have led active lives and are in their mid-20s or 30s when they realize the problem. And this is why I'm so unusual. There's almost no one else receiving the PAO, or any other kind of hip reconstructive surgery, that is in his/her teens. You see, I had hip dysplasia as an infant, which would have been fairly easy to fix, but it was only caught when I was 1 1/2 years old. By then, the bones had fixed in their place, and we resorted to surgery. But then again, the doctors had no idea how the bones and the joints would react to growth. By the time I was, oh, about 13-14? I had started getting pain in my hip. Which is why I had my first surgery on Dec. 18. And now June 11 for the other hip. *Moonchild, Chris Cornell*

So there we go, all around full circle in a never ending loop. I have feelings of nostalgia. Sorry, I'm being driven crazy by my latest giant novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude. Very good. Very long. Very...long wearing. But, on the plus side, Mrs. Donaldson has promised to read The Alchemist this summer! Hopefully it will be placed on the reading list for future generations... *Wonderwall, Oasis*

A moment...suspended in time...

I forget what that quote is from. At least, I think it's a quote. And perhaps it's familiar.

But anyhow, I am here to announce that it is only 30 or 31 days until zero hour. I'm rather shaky on the math, you see. It will be my last surgery until several decades from now. Yay. So, in short, I have only 1 month to frolic. To play badminton and make bukus (however you spell it) of muffins and to go to events or casual coffee with my friends without worrying about accomodations. After that, I'm resigned to Tracy, the wheelchair. It's kinda sad, but you probably read my "I am a woman" speech earlier, so that attitude still resides in me. Well, one month. Until I go to senior picnic in a wheelchair. Even at school I'll be on crutches. Sorry! I don't mean to sound depressing. I broke 2 dishes today and so that's probably why I sound down!
This is just a psuedo announcement. I am beginning countdown!

30 (or 31) days

Saving Grace

Who/What/Where is your saviour? Most of us would say, off hand, that Jesus, or God, is our Saviour. But spiritually aside, what is?

 Maybe I'm phrasing this wrong. What I'm trying to say is that there are things in our lives that save us from insanity. Things that save s from feeling that life is hopeless. Things that save us from ourselves, even. School, oddly enough, has been my saviour many a time. A saviour from enclosure, from boredom, from caged feelings. Baking, especially when it come to muffins!,  has been my saviour - Abigail (and pretty much everyone else)! I can see you laughing! -  from impossibility, from lack of purpose. This summer, I have already picked out my saviours. That sounds odd. Estem...I know what  shall do this summer. When I lie in bed lacking motivation or purpose. A list, for I have recently come to appreciate, yet still not love, lists. Oh, Mr. Knight's class...

1. Muffins - Yep. You could probably see that coming. As I have declared that I will someday open a pastry/cafe, I think that this is perfectly normal. :D

2. Books. - Oh, yes. Along with the regular  AP English books - Frankenstein, something, and something else - I am trying to get as far as I can on my "100 Books You Should Read Before College" List. I just finished number 23 on my list! Yay!

 

3. Friends. - Oh, I'll make them come back from vacation or die! Just kidding. I do love all of you.....

4. LOTR? - I have the urge to watch Lord of The Rings again. I'm planning on getting the extendaversion and watching all of them!!!!! Oh, and I'm gonna fly over to the Lira's and steal Spirited Away!

Haha. There is my summer. So, question. What is your saviour? And yes, I meant it, Michael.