And Everything Else...

Sorry for being ridiculously lax in my pursuit of information giving. Next bullet point.

Sunday: By Sunday I had completed most of the hurdles the nurses require of patients before they leave the hospital. I had (1.) convinced them that I did not require a catheter, finally. Yes, there is a story there, but I will not relate it unless I am talking to you in person, or close to it. I had (2.) managed to walk 10 or less feet without passing out or feeling dizzy. I (3.) stopped throwing up, after much persuasion. I (4.) was feeling alert, or at least enough to yearn for cleanliness and watch TV. Seeing as how my mind set was a couple days earlier, this is very alert. And plus, I received bonus points for making my systolic hit 100. I managed to hover around mid 80s to the 90s for most of my visit. Apparently this isn't good. It probably would help if they didn't suck my blood every 24 hours. Just an opinion.

I was all ready to face to world. I took a shower (by the way, this is a HUGE accomplisment) in their bathroom and put on my own clothes in the stead of hospital gowns. I walked out past the elevators (woot). I made some contacts so that 20 people wouldn't show up at the hospital 20 minutes after I left. The nurses took my IVs out! This is the best news ever! And I ate lunch. In the middle of lunch, Dema and Micheal showed up and became my honor guard out of the hospital. Goodbye friendly nurses. Goodbye Food Man. Goodbye Rusty. I spent an only slightly painful ride home and got to sleep in a real bed, for once.

The next morning I was forced to welcome a new regimen. Every day: 2 stool softeners, 1 iron pill, a Perkaset pain pill taken as needed, and 1 shot in the stomach to prevent blood clots. They problem is, every day spent away from the hospital increases my dislike of being poked with sharp objects. In the hospital you sort of get used to it. But not so at home. As of right now, I only need 2 more injections. Score! So what has been happening since my semi-triumphant return? Well, there have been visits and pain meds and a physical therapist and crutches and a wheelchair and a whole lot of fussing. Since returning home, I've had two showers and washed my hair twice. I feel so clean! I now have so much chocolate and other assorted sweets they would supply 20 hormonal women who had just gotten broken up with. I have watched three times the movies I would normally watch. For many days at home, I just recuperated and rested. I got up several times a day, each time moving more easily. On Saturday I finally did what had seemed the impossible several days before: I got up, dressed in real clothes, and set forth in a wheelchair to go to Borders. It was a good thing too. They are having a huge sale right now!

I'll probably write a follow up post for everything I forgot later, but for know, here is your information overload of the day. Questions? Comments? Threats? Contact me. Somehow...

Friday-Saturday

I decided to cover these in one bound because half of it is lost in a medicated haze and the other half is full of painful details no one wants to be debreifed on too much. My days at the hospital began early, because for a place that is full of healing, they certainly start processing you ridiculously early. A nurse comes to suck your blood at 5:30-6:00, and after that nurses come in frequently to take your blood pressure, temperature, and such sundry vital signs. At seven, the doctors come to either change you dressing or hospitably (get it?!) talk to you or warn you of incoming therapists. After that, the friendly guy who gives you meals comes to bring you breakfast and to give you options for the rest of the day. No really, I love that guy. He's amazing.
After that come the physical therapists. Though they seem nice, they have a heart of steel behind those helpful demeanors. My first therapist even made me pass out! Just kidding, Rusty, that was my fault. My fault that I have ridiculously low blood pressure. Physical therapy is hard, though. You wouldn't think that moving your leg ahead 2 inches would be that difficult! But it is. The bathroom was probably the biggest accomplishment. You have to move all the way there, do your buisness, then all the way back. Exhausting!
For the rest of the day, it is a blur of visitors, vital signs, more visitors, television, pain meds, vital signs, and food. My apologies for two of my visitors: Suzanne and Jonathan, for almost vomiting on them. I really wasn't good that day, I'm sorry.
There were up moments, and there were truly rotten moments, but I managed to get through to Sunday! Why six in the morning? That's just what I don't get.

First Day

Yay! I'm home! But before I start confusing you with haphazard rememberances in no certain (haha, London) order, I shall stop confusing everyone and start from the befinning.
-Where should I start?
-I believe the beginning's a good a place as any.

I'm beginning where I left off: the day of. Frankly, I don't remember much of this. I remember insisting to myself that I must find something cute to wear to the hospital (I don't know why) and showing up to the hospital. The waiting room took quite some time, but eventually, we were admitted back. My two pre-op nurses/attendees were Harding graduates! They prepped me by putting in an IV, giving me gowns, taking my blood pressure and taking my temperature. Then they took me back to the "block room". The block room is where they gave me a nerve block for post-op pain and a spinal block (the kind birthing women receive, methinks) for the operation pain. Here was the amazing thing: usually people mind when they are stuck in the hip or the spine with huge needles, but I absolutely didn't. I was in my happy zone. I was feeling my cheerios. I was happy. IV's are miraculous things. Here, my memory goes hazy. I remember the ceiling (barely) from the block room to the OR. I remember commenting to Dr. Guyton that the overhead lights looked like UFOs. And then I cease to remember.

When I woke up, I was in the recovery room, where they put you between operating room and actual room. According to my mother: my first words when hazily awake were about Nutella. Does this suprise anyone? And then I talked of ravioli and Chef Boyardee. And then I cried, because they did an unspeakably cruel thing to me: they rolled me over onto my bad side for an X-ray. Twice. You cannot imagine the searing pain. All of my memories until the next morning remain hazy. I thank Niani Connerly's mother, my first night nurse, for that. I was up all night off and on because of discomfort. This side sleeper still needs a bit of transitioning till she gets used to sleeping flat on her back. That is it for know, my dear readers. I must fly and walker my way over to the couch for some dinner. See you tomorrow!

Well...

Well....
This is it. I just wanted to say that this is my last post before the hospital and that I am ravenously hungry already. Bye, world! Thanks everyone for the notes and the prayers and the encouragement. Thank you Louis (and Lola and Jacob) for the cookies! Bye!

Drumroll, please.....

T-1 Day!!!!!!!!!!

Well, friends, this is it. My last day with working (or semi-working) joints.

I would like to formally (or not so formally, since it is me you're talking about) thank everyone for the prayers, and the comments, and the well wishing and the monkey (Thanks Patrick!). Everyone has bombarded me with prayers and chocolates (Thanks Aunt Cheryl!). A couple classes in school had group prayers for me, and several others asked students to think of me. I am truly grateful for these. My hypothesis: they'll open me up and discover that everything is miraculously healed because of all the prayers! No really, there is no way to tell you thank you for everything.

Speaking of the monkey, everyone who visits me and says the passphrase "The eggplants grow greener on the other hip" has permission to sign my stuffed monkey's scrubs. :D
I'll probably post something in a hurry tomorrow before hurrying to the hospital (10:30-sign in; 1:30-3:30 begin the operation) but if not, this could be the very parenthetical last post before surgery. Love you, everyone!

Not About Me, Believe It or Not.

T-4 days.

Today is the day to think of someone I mentioned earlier in a comment on the first or second post. My aunt. Aunt Vicki is undergoing surgery for her breast cancer tomorrow. Fortunately, the doctor said recently that the tumor is much smaller than expected or something. This is good.

I love you Aunt Vicki, and I hope it all goes well for you. Don't forget to tell me how long it took so that we can compare! :D Good luck. We're all praying for you.

The Problem with Pain: Part I

T-6 days
Hi grandma! You just got the address, you said, so you get a halloo.

The final pre-op! Really boring. I had to tell my medical history three times! I got my blood taken (again) and another x-ray, though this was of my chest. (?) I don't know why either. What was new was the EKG (the little thing that monitors heart rate and bleeps annoyingly in hospitals) and the urine sample (ugh.). So fun and exciting, right? Most of it was actually waiting rooms. Plus, I left my new ring in the clinic. Oops. Actually, after Dad went back and got it, they gave it to me in a biohazard bag. Pretty sweet!

Now to the pain!
Several of you have asked 'what does it feel like?' Some others ask 'does it hurt now?' That latter comment actually reminds me of the Verizon Wireless commercials: Can you hear me now?
And even though it seems foolish to address this so close to surgery,
I have narrowed my pain into categories:

Just plain annoying!: the kind of pain that barely measures on charts. But it makes you uncomfortable constantly! Agh! It's the kind that makes you shift and change position every 30 seconds, it seems like.

The present pain: This definitely measures on the pain charts. It's the kind that makes you limp, not that I do much. But it's usually brought on by heavy lifting or running around like a crazy person.

The sharp, stabbing pain: This only happens when I've twisted it, or fallen on it the wrong way. It feels like a knife. But only for a minute or two. It doesn't happen very often, so no one freak!

Thank you very much C.S. Lewis (my christian literary hero) for the title.

Why yes I DID wear my Trogdor shirt to the hospital

Part I: The forbidden land
Isn't this a bummer? I have to stop eating these foods "7-14 days prior to the surgery". A period of which I am currently in. These foods/vitamins/minerals are forbidden:
Multi-Vitamins
Garlic!
Ginseng
Vitamin E
Cayenne
Feverfew
Licorice (poor me)
Ginger
Saw Palmetto
Golden Seal
Ripped Fuel/body building supplements (Aww, man!)
Echinacea

Personally, I thought that last one was an Australian mammal. But maybe I'm wrong.
You know what this means though, no spicy foods, no ginger snaps, and saddest of all, no hummous. For it contains garlic! I just happened to remember to stop eating these foods the day we bought a whole tub of hummous, which constantly calls to me from the depths of the refrigerator. Oh, the humanity! Or the hummousity!

Part II: The bloody escapade
Last Thursday, right before the junior ring banquet in fact, I went to lifeblood to give up some of mine for pre-op testing. The bad thing is, though I've had two major surgeries and it's all been done before, the last time I remember a needle entering my flesh was when I was about 5. I was practically new to the sting, the sight of my blood entering two little tubes.

Actually, it wasn't that bad. I could even bare to watch for the last half of the second tube. Then they fed me and I was left to languish in a comfortable leather chair while my dad got conned (not really, he donated) out of a pint. While there, we met a girl about my age and her mother, also testing for surgery. The difference was that hers was spine sugery and she is going to be in the hospital during Christmas. I guess I'm lucky.
:)

Into the Belly of the Giant Donut

T-27 days...

Updation!!!

It's been a while, hasn't it? Oh well, here's what you missed.

Nov. 21 (today): pre-pre-op

What's going on: I took a ride in the donut!!! Yes, Melora got her first CT scan ever. It was

pretty exciting. For some reason, whenever I take an X-ray or CT Scan, I have to fight an

urge to laugh. Today was the worst! Apparently, a machine telling me to laugh and hold my

breath, coupled with thrilling animation is hilarious. The lady described it as going inside a

donut hole. I hold to that notion.
Dec. 6: pre-op

Just another visit to my wonderful Dr. Guyton to see how I'm doing about a week before

the thrilling operation.

Dec. 18: little kid band concert! (and PAO)

Yes, the thrilling date at Methodist East. (I can't eat for 13 1/2 hours plus surgery!!)

Dec. 21 or 22: I come home!

Jan. 6: Post-op

Here is where they tell me exactly what I can and cannot do. Yes, school is restricted for a

while.

Speaking of X-rays.....here's my lovely picture!!!

The right is where the R is and so on. The little sticks you see are from my surgery when I was two. Yes, the pins are still in there.

It's kind of small, but you can probably see the space in between my socket and my femoral head.

Technically, I confund the doctors, because my right hip is actually worse than my left, even though we're operating on my left. My right hip has no pain at all while my left is quite painful, so thus the decision to operate on my left.

My right hip will probably follow comparitively soon after my left, owing to it's condition.

If I can ever find it, I swear I shall post my favorite x-ray ever. Yes. It is sad that I have chosen a favorite x-ray. Instead of a little scrap of lead over the uterus (to protect from radiation damage) the hospital chose a little lead heart instead. It's so cute!!!

Interesting fact: after the surgery, I will have a dead nerve space for about 2 years. You learn something new every day!

Well, that's it for now.

Dysplastic word o' the day: Ganz Osteotomy-exactly the same as a PAO, just named after the guy that invented it.

Explanation and Description

T-36 days. And 98 till my birthday! Right, London?

THE CLEVER, CLEVER PUN EVERYONE SEEMS TO BE MISSING:
(maybe because I didn't explain it enough.)
Everyone started asking about my title, Kung PAO, and why I had called it that.
Duh, I thought, because a periacetabular osteotomy is called a PAO. Everyone knows that. And then it struck me that everyone may not know that. Even my sister had a sticky point connecting synapses.
Leave it to me to use a pun that goes over most everybodies heads. Oops. So my goal today is to inform the ill informed.
I'm getting a periacetabular osteotomy for my major surgery. Shortened, it is called a PAO. The main mechanics of it involves cutting out my bone socket, rotating it several degrees, then screwing it back in. X-rays to come later. The reason reason for pain and the surgery is that the (irreplaceable) cartilage is being worn down by the uneven pressure on the socket. This causes pain. Ok, here's my brief glossary:
PAO: periacetabular osteotomy; 'peri' meaning around, 'acetabular' referring to the acetabulum, 'osteo' as in bone, and '-tomy' as in an operation.

OS: Orthopaediatric surgeon. He works with the anatomy and physiology of bones, mostly.

Hip Dysplasia: Where a head of the bone is "displaced" from the socket. That may not be the actual origin of the word, but that's basically it.

NWB: Non-weight bearing. Means no pressure on the joint. Hence, the crutches.

PWB: Partial weight bearing. Figure it out.

Acetabulum: The socket, basically. It is the anatomical name for the bone in that region.

Did I skip anything? Probably. More to come in future, probably. Maybe I should open up every post with the "Dysplastic Word o' the Day".

Following Yellow Brick Road

T-39 days

Found on a fortune cookie at Pei Wei: Some like it hot. Eat more Kung Pao.

Surely a good omen or something akin to one! (My lucky numbers are 5,9, 11,20,36, and 40, by the way.)

So, where were we? Somewhere along the "I'm a fairly healthy person point." About mid-September, I went in to my OS (Orthopaediatric Surgeon) at the grand ol' Campell Clinic. I had told him about pains I had in my hip, how it was pretty bad some days, blah, blah, blah. He took x-rays, which are muy uncomfortablemente, by the way, and had them on the computer and was hemming and hawing and said: "If you don't have surgery within the next 5 years you'll need a replacement... (something about cartilage, not important at this present moment)...but I recommend getting them within the next 2 year span or so. Get back in touch with us when you want to schedule." So we talked. At Atlanta Bread company. I mean, I'm off school, right?

And I mull. I decide Christmas. There is my story (pretty much, details to come later, I suppose). Any questions? Comments? Threats? What does this mean to me as a Junior at Harding Academy?

The Beginning...I'm Pretty Sure

Well, welcome to my hip blog. The place where I tell you my whole life story concerning hips.

I will start at the beginning: birth. I was born with hip dysplasia. Except my doctor didn't seem to notice. Grr. You see, at birth dysplasia is fairly easy to fix. The bones are still semi-malleable, and all is right with the world. Unfortunately, I was about 1 1/2 when they found out. Which meant two (both my hips were messed up) major surgeries. So we fixed them. I was in a body cast for about six months and then a couple months more because I, accident prone as I am, had to go and break one of my legs. In the hospital, no less.

So here I am. All I have on me since my surgeries were 4 scars. My doctors were not sure I would be able to grow up as active as other children. They were mistaken. I was active plenty enough. (Of course, my dad did get teary the first time he saw me run a cross country race :) I still went to the Milwaukee Children's Hospital every year till I was 10.
When we moved, we went once to Campbell Clinic and that was it. Until one day, when....

Tune in next time for the next exciting account of Melora managing to mess herself up...