Floating free

Dr. Mast cut me loose from the follow up visits. I won't be seeing the folks at the clinic again until the next surgery.

Mike, the physical therapist, also cut me loose.

So, I can do whatever I want, within reason. My leg will be the guide.

We've booked our flights for and rooms at Portillo for September. Because scheming for frequent flier miles is my passion, we are all flying on $3,000 tickets for $50 each. It's an open jaw into Santiago, Chile, and out of Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Anybody up for a ski on the bunny slopes this weekend?

My liability for the hip surgery

came to $840. This is out of the $63,000+ billed.

I met my $250 deductible and most of my $3,000 copay, and the $840 was what was left.

I am GRATEFUL that the insurance mostly worked as it was advertised. For nonAmerican friends, bear in mind that Matty's employer and we cobbled together something like $850 a month in premiums for the privilege.

We switched policies a few weeks ago. We went with a Health Savings Account (the Bush Administration's way of saying, "here's a really dumb way for you to put money in a bad 'investment' vehicle") that is coupled with a high deductible health insurance policy. We went with it because theoretically, once we hit the $3,000 family deductible, we will get 100 percent coverage....we'll see. Matty's employers were really pushing the HSA because it's cheaper for them. It will cost something like $550 a month to insure us.

Between Matty's asthma, Wyatt's diabetes, and my hips, we're pretty sure we'll meet our deductible early each year.

Welcome to being middle aged and middle class.

Reforms are definitely needed so that the lower middle class and working poor, like most of our self employed or younger or alternative livin' friends, don't get screwed.

this be the hardware

Matty says we should turn what's keeping my hip together into a bottle opener when all is said and done.

Sundry Schmundry II

Wyatt is either having intermittent leg and foot pain or having issues about my post-operative state. Last night, he pulled up lame and complained of ankle and/or knee pain, but he was fine once I sat with him for a while. Matt and I are wondering if he thinks that I will be on crutches or in a walker forever.

Wyatt peed into his training potty on his own last night, but not before nailing the wool carpet a bit. He is drinking wayyyyy toooooo much before bedtime and wetting every surface in sight. Ah, the joys of parenthood.

I am starting to feel the hardware in my leg now. The right angle in the plate is poking through the hip, and I think I feel the screw ends in the back of my leg. Nothing painful, though.

I am down to one 10 mg. dose of Oxycontin and one to two doses of Percocet a day. I tried to tough it out cold turkey last night, but that was really dumb.

The last batch of sel gris caramels came out too salty. Still, it's a thrill to hit a chunky grain of that minerally Guerande salt in the midst of all that toothache inducing goo.

Tony Wilson is retiring from Melbourne's RRR Breakfasters radio show. He, Fee B-Squared, and Sam Pang are such an intelligent and passionate bunch. I will miss their special dynamic. Turns out, I wasn't the only married girl I know to have had a crush on Tony.

I have been queasy for a long time now. The curse of it is having to eat all the time to keep the stomach steadied.

I can read the New Yorker cover to cover in a night or two. It is one of my few tangible accomplishments these days. I stay up late because I am afraid of the dark.

Janet and I are ripping through DVDs of Reilly, Ace of Spies a few evenings a week. Good grief, Sam Neill!

Matt and I are ripping through DVDs of The Wire, a Baltimore based cop show. It would help if there were subtitles sometimes. We throw the first season of Lost (cringe goes here) in when we're feeling terribly escapist.

Sitting on my ass all day, working out the scar tissue with emu oil, chatting with long lost ghosts on Facebook, zoning out, is still a rather splendid mindless bliss. I am grateful to have had the opportunity.

Maudlin post goes here

It's weird to be nearly 40, to have a young child, and to have trepidation about not waking up after the surgery.

I have been put under three times before. It has always been a piece of piss. I NEVER thought twice about it. Now, with my boy waiting for me, I think about the remote possibility that I won't be coming back.

Actually, lately when I think about Wyatt, I burst into tears.

I'm not the world's most natural mother. It's taken me over two years to finally feel TOTALLY at ease. That boychild has taught me so much. He has so much grace and humor and wisdom for a little kid. Even in the drama of not knowing what the hell I was doing being a mother, he was (and still is) my pride and joy.

I have been honest about my fear of not waking up. I reckon I am paying the Gods their tribute by acknowledging that everything is a gift and can be taken away. I am grateful for what I have had and would very much like a chance for a bit more, please.

In reality, besides my slightly high blood pressure and slightly high cholesterol, I'm quite healthy. I was told by the internal medicine dude (who dug the fine gauge of my Icebreaker Merino shirt) that my 15 minutes of daily cycling and intermittent hiking and skiing made me part of the fit crowd. I laughed. I am one of the lazy bastards of Bishop.

Meanwhile, in these days before the surgery, I sneak an extra hug, smooch, and cuddle with the boy when I can.

Hospital bed for one

Dr. Mast leaves no stone unturned.
I have a rent-a-hospital-bed coming to the house. I found out yesterday when the local rent a bed place gave me a ring.
The kindly LVN at the Clinic said that Dr. Mast's patients, because they have already had their battery of preoperative tests by the time they come for the preoperative consultation, are the best prepared.
Yeah, I suppose I am.

No shaving, no herbal supplements, no nicks, scratches, etc. in my hind and lower quarters.
No colds. No dental work (whoops, the cleaning from 3-4 weeks ago was a no-no).
No milk in my coffee the morning of.
No narcotics on an empty stomach, no matter how much in pain I might be at 3am.
Lots of good laxatives.

I think of my lovely, greatly missed Tommy Ryan and think about how much grace and generosity he had when Wyatt and I would visit him in his hospital bed. I am lucky, because unlike him, I will have the ability to walk away - eventually.

Two extra days of living with the old setup

Surgery has been moved out to the 7th. I was one of the lucky ones who didn't have to change plane tickets or get my date shifted by a week. I reckon that if one wants an audience with the Pope of Hip Surgeons.....

Lovely pizza potluck at Marsha and Cal's last night to celebrate some birthdays. There was a lovely wee puppy Cal rescued from the Res(ervation). There are folks putting dibs on it, including AT.

Sally Field moment

Matty and I apparently got listed in the shout outs in the liner notes to the Phoenix Foundation's New Zealand release of Happy Ending. All I could think was, "bloody hell" and be really touched. Our copy still hasn't arrived in the mail. The transpacific postal faeries must be held up in Customs and Immigration.

In other news, we had the largest poker pot last night. Zach won $34.60 (most of it his) on an epic round of Between the Sheets/Acey Deucey. Karen dealt. This beats the $11.40 Matty won in Two Card Dropsies (guts) hands down.

Working on a medical "to do" list. This morning, zipped into the old (circa 1950-1960s) Northern Inyo Hospital for an EKG and Chest X-Ray. This afternoon, got the boy and myself flu shots. Wyatt was lovely and gave the nurse a heartfelt "thank you," even though he wasn't too pleased about the jab.

I have a date with some stirrups Wednesday, full bloodwork Thursday, pre-operative physical therapy assessment Saturday, pre-op consult the following Monday, pre-op clearance Thursday, and a type and cross blooddraw Saturday.

I am grateful that I have time to prepare and that this surgery isn't the result of some nasty accident on the highway. It will be a clean cut, Sir. No mushy bag of shards and hamburger for me this time.

Countdown

Surgery scheduled for Monday, 5 November. One week after Jon Becknell's second total hip replacement and a week and a half before Michelle's procedure. Bishop will be convalescent city.

Right now, I'm a little less flippant and a little more scared.

Lots to do before it all happens. Wyatt will start full-time daycare on the 1st.

More along the line of selfish indulging

There is a gorgeous 13.5 gallon keg of Hoegaarden beer at Manor Market with our names on it. (Thank you Markie and Karl!!!!) The obscure A type "German Slider" keg coupler is on its way up via Fedex, and we should be in business by tomorrow evening.

I will need to stop drinking while I am on the combination of morphine, warfarin (yes, the ratpoison. It also is a blood thinner), and laxatives in little more than a month, I'm sure. So, while the sun still shines on this fair Valley and while I still have the wonky femurs I was born with, let me at that damn keg!

As far as I understand the surgery, it goes like this: cut slit in upper thigh; pull away abductor muscle, saw femur in half just below the trochanter, the bit that flares below the ball; rotate lower portion of leg in 20 degrees, check how the ball of the femur sits in the hip socket, band the two cut halves of the femur under incredible pressure, something like thousands of pounds per square inch; pin a rod to the length and exterior of the femur to give it a plane to work with (and to give me hip where there were no hip before); put muscle back, stitch the skin back up.

It feels like a headache in the hips

I was a bit concerned in the past few weeks because my hips were pain free. I wondered, is all this cutting through bone really going to be necessary? Then, like clockwork, the season changed, autumn came*, and my hips started aching again.

This makes me rather glad in a strange way. It makes the decision to go ahead with the surgery all the more appropriate.

* Autumn in the Owens Valley means a few days of winter followed by an Indian Summer. Went for a quick hike up to Grass Lake with Kay Wong (we worked together at NBC Asia in Hong Kong) and her husband Andy last Sunday. There was up to 3 inches of snow on the ground at the top.

Femoral osteotomy

That's what Dr. Mast says I need to consider. They cut the femur high up on the thigh and rotate the bottom part of the leg 20 degrees inward. This might help stave off the artificial hip I will be needing in maybe 10, maybe more, years. At any rate, my femurs are such freakshows that the surgery will help prep me for artificial hips later. The standard, off the shelf, hips won't seat properly into my femurs the way they are oriented now.

I appreciate the time Dr. Mast has spent with me (about 4.5 hours over two visits).

No guarantees, but what the hell. I'll shoot for the left hip this October/November. If all goes well enough, I'll shoot for the other next September/October.

This might mean that we can go to Portillo, Chile for a family ski in August 2008 after all. I am hoping to be there during Chilean Wine Week! I have the fact that I will most likely be a better skier than my 3 year old for the only time in our lives to look forward to. Will probably backpack around Argentina or Chile for two weeks after.