hips and crutches and close encounters of the famous kind
Post-op day 64 / week 9.
I saw my surgeon on Tuesday. The x-rays show new bone growth and I had nothing to report, which means healing with no complications and a happy doctor. My boredom is paying off. Hooray.
The good news is that I've been promoted to 50% weight bearing. The bad news is that I'll be on crutches for at least another month and probably longer. It's a drag, but I expected it. My hip is really weak. I've lost strength in muscles I didn't know I have, and bearing fifty percent of my weight turns out to be hard work. I need to stop slacking on my physical therapy.
The PT suggested a new exercise, this one standing. I watched her demonstrate and said, "Oh God, ballet."
"Tendu," she agreed. I flashed back to beginning ballet, freshman year of college. It was a love-hate relationship. I'm built particularly badly for ballet; hypermobility makes me wobbly in ways I can't overcome. Keeping my core straight during tendu is harder than it was twenty years ago, but I noticed that my leg extends behind me more easily now. The PT said that my old hip socket had prevented that before. I may have a longer stride when everything is healed, which would be very cool.
The hip team encouraged me to start physical therapy in water. There's a good place across town; the problem is getting there. I can't crutch to the subway yet, and cabs both ways would get madly expensive. I could borrow a Zipcar, but I'd have to crutch too far to pick it up. The city is not convenient if you can't walk. There's a public transit program for disabled people, but I may be walking by the time they process my application.
Seatmate took the day off yesterday to drive me to the hospital. When we got home, the closest parking spot had two mailboxes and a pole on the passenger side, so I got out and waited with the wheelchair while he parked. A mailman was getting mail out of one of the boxes at the same time, so the sidewalk was sort of crowded. A couple carrying groceries had to maneuver around us, the man lugging a giant 24-pack of toilet paper. As he passed me, I realized that he was a Boston Bruins hockey player. And I said... nothing.
When Seatmate got out of the car, I hissed, "Dude! That's Mark Recchi!" We stood there and watched his retreating back. What would I have said? I don't know. But apparently he lives nearby, so maybe we'll see him again. I hope.
One week until opening night. In the meanwhile, I'll be doing tendus and looking out the window for our neighbor.
I saw my surgeon on Tuesday. The x-rays show new bone growth and I had nothing to report, which means healing with no complications and a happy doctor. My boredom is paying off. Hooray.
The good news is that I've been promoted to 50% weight bearing. The bad news is that I'll be on crutches for at least another month and probably longer. It's a drag, but I expected it. My hip is really weak. I've lost strength in muscles I didn't know I have, and bearing fifty percent of my weight turns out to be hard work. I need to stop slacking on my physical therapy.
The PT suggested a new exercise, this one standing. I watched her demonstrate and said, "Oh God, ballet."
"Tendu," she agreed. I flashed back to beginning ballet, freshman year of college. It was a love-hate relationship. I'm built particularly badly for ballet; hypermobility makes me wobbly in ways I can't overcome. Keeping my core straight during tendu is harder than it was twenty years ago, but I noticed that my leg extends behind me more easily now. The PT said that my old hip socket had prevented that before. I may have a longer stride when everything is healed, which would be very cool.
The hip team encouraged me to start physical therapy in water. There's a good place across town; the problem is getting there. I can't crutch to the subway yet, and cabs both ways would get madly expensive. I could borrow a Zipcar, but I'd have to crutch too far to pick it up. The city is not convenient if you can't walk. There's a public transit program for disabled people, but I may be walking by the time they process my application.
Seatmate took the day off yesterday to drive me to the hospital. When we got home, the closest parking spot had two mailboxes and a pole on the passenger side, so I got out and waited with the wheelchair while he parked. A mailman was getting mail out of one of the boxes at the same time, so the sidewalk was sort of crowded. A couple carrying groceries had to maneuver around us, the man lugging a giant 24-pack of toilet paper. As he passed me, I realized that he was a Boston Bruins hockey player. And I said... nothing.
When Seatmate got out of the car, I hissed, "Dude! That's Mark Recchi!" We stood there and watched his retreating back. What would I have said? I don't know. But apparently he lives nearby, so maybe we'll see him again. I hope.
One week until opening night. In the meanwhile, I'll be doing tendus and looking out the window for our neighbor.