Hip Replacement Surgery–Part 2

I can be honest now, now that it’s all over.  I was terrified.  When I first heard I might need hip replacement surgery, I was a bit cavalier.  Ho hum.  Then I was given a reprieve.  My doctor thought that because my pain wasn’t constant that the problem might not be bone on bone but due to inflammation.  That reprieve lasted until December 18, when the Kaiser surgeon called me and said that the arthritis was bad, advanced and that taking cortisone shots would be a very short lived band-aid.  The surgery was back on.  Only this time, I wasn’t at all cavalier.  I was really scared.

Until I had this operation, I’d never been in a hospital.  I haven’t even had my tonsils out.  When I closed my eyes and tried to visualize what might happen, all I could see was a big knife going into my back side deep.  That’s as far as I could get.  I’d shiver and try to distract myself.

I talked to a lot of people.  99% of my friends raved about total hip replacement surgery telling me that they were walking, dancing, doing yoga so much better than before and had no sign of anything irregular in their hip.  I heard them but I think the information didn’t lodge anywhere important or as one of my parents used to tell me “it went in one ear and out the other”.

Hip replacement surgery has come a long way since doctors first starting researching and experimenting with the possibilities in 1962.  I have titanium in my hip.  Initially it was stainless steel.  The ball part of the titanium is stuck into the hip socket tightly and only loosens up as the bone accepts the implant.  In the past, the replacement could come loose after only 10-12 years and cause more pain.  I’m under the impression this replacement could last the rest of my life.

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An X-ray showing a right hip (left of image) has been replaced, with the ball of this ball-and-socket joint replaced by a metal head that is set in the femur and the socket replaced by a white plastic cup (clear in this X-ray). from wikipedia

I had this surgery February 23rd.  I was released to my friends’ home February 24th.  I couldn’t go to my home because of so many steps.  On March 5th, I left my friends’ house and came to my own home.  I thought the 45 stairs going up to my front door would take me 30 minutes to climb.  It took me 5 minutes.  It was easy.  I followed instructions and used a crutch.  California stairs, as opposed to New York stairs, are not high and much longer.  That’s my observation anyway.  I didn’t have to lift either leg very high.  I was so excited.

The next day, a Physical Therapist came to my home and told me I should start using a cane.  He said I was walking well.  I was given exercises to do three times a day.  Today, I can walk around my house without even using the cane.  I go slow and step carefully.  I have to go up and down 10 stairs to go to the bathroom.  Easy peasy!

Today I have two big problems:  The first is trying to respond to all the people who have cared enough to write me an e-mail and ask after my recovery.  I tire easily and it’s hard to keep up with the correspondence.  This is what a friend of mine would call a luxury problem.

The second challenge is balancing out activity-meaning my leg and foot are towards the ground: I’m walking or sitting at the computer, making a meal with rest–meaning my leg is elevated and above my heart.  Each day I feel different but I have learned to follow directions and I err on the side of caution.

I’ve seen three different PTs and each one says that this operation is one of the best inventions of the 20th century.  I now agree.  Two months ago, I was checking on my will and my living will.  I was scared and non-believing of all these other folk who related tremendous success.  And here I am today, feeling in great spirits, pleased as punch with my progress and looking forward to my return to Paris!

I also have a lot of gratitude to the friends who have brought me over prepared food so I wouldn’t have to stand too long to make meals. To those who have driven me to stores or gone to the Library for me.  Especially to my friend Susan who flew out here from Arizona to help me transition from chez Koch to chez Sara.  She was a hard task master but I listened.  I hope I don’t have to have another surgery to remember how precious all these friendships are.  You know who you are.

A bientôt,

Sara

Hip Replacement Surgery–Part 1

Today I have a new hip, a round, probably cream colored ball, that replaces the round top of my femur, which is attached to a stem that fits into my thigh bone and has been placed in the empty socket where my old arthritic hip used to be.  Got that? I am nine days post-surgery and, for the second time in two days, feel a burst of morning energy.  I’ve made a few lists of things I can actually do and started checking them off.  I’ve begun the process of straightening and sorting all my belongings that made it over to chez Koch, my home away from home.

Chez Koch is where two remarkable and generous friends have let me stay for the first ten nights of my recovery.  It is a ranch style house, the only steps being the two very small ones that allowed me in the front door.  Between lots of naps, I’ve slowly been learning how to walk again with the aid of a walker.  My Physical Therapist at the hospital said “you have wonderful posture.  Were you a dancer?”  Meaning that if I stand erect and walk, the surgical leg moves directly behind me slightly stretching the thigh skin, exactly as it is supposed to do.  Then he said “You walk like Frankenstein”  In my cautiousness, I was forgetting to bend my knee of the surgical leg.  This produced a few chuckles from the watching staff.  Dancer and Frankenstein describing me within two minutes of each other! Well, as they say “only in San Francisco”.  It turns out there is a Ballet showing in the City at the moment called “Frankenstein”.

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Kaiser San Leandro Medical Center

For the record, I didn’t like being in the hospital.  It was my first time and, hopefully, my last.  It wasn’t the constant poking and prodding that I’d been warned about, it was the double speak.  I had the orthopedist who performed the surgery.  I had a Joint Care Coordinator, a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, a day time RN and a night time RN and both of them had trainees.  I had a substitute doctor as my surgeon was unavailable when I awoke Friday morning.  Each of these people knocked carefully on the door of my single room at Kaiser San Leandro Hospital.  Each entered with an opinion or feedback.  Almost all the opinions and feedback contradicted each other.  For me, already scared by someone having taken a scalpel to my backside, opening up a fairly large portion of said backside to go in and out of the hip area, not to mention drugged silly with anesthesia so as not feel the above mentioned activity, I just wanted one person to be decisive and tell me exactly what to do.

Not to be.  I had immediate problems.  I couldn’t stand up long enough to get anywhere to take a pee.  My blood pressure would drop to the floor, giving my stomach a good shuffle on the way down so I thought I might vomit.  I’d break out in sweats while shivering.  This all turns out to be normal if one has low blood pressure to begin with and then adds anesthesia to the mix which drops blood pressure even more.  I suppose it’s nice to have that information but what I felt was weak, vulnerable, lonely and wanting someone strong to tell me what to do.

By Friday afternoon, I had a mini-meltdown, no one would agree what should happen to me.  I thought I was in a crazy house and wanted out.  I called my friend Jane and she came and got me.  Kaiser I’m sure was happy to see me go.  I’d like to think I’d been mirroring back their very bad communication efforts and they wanted me GONE but I think that would be a bit arrogant.  I’m sure I was just a difficult patient.

From Friday evening, February 24 thru Saturday, March 4, my world became my bedroom, my slow trips from bedroom to bathroom and then slow trips from bedroom to kitchen.  The most difficult thing physically that I had to accomplish was hauling my surgical leg up onto the bed when getting ready for a rest.  I had to use a bungee cord that I would hook around the insole of my foot and gently pull the leg up, followed by the good leg, until both legs were safely propped on a pillow.

It’s been a kind of nether world.  Not much exists outside of these walls. Friends have been bringing me meals and doing shopping for me, often staying for a bite and a visit.  Everyone wants to know about me so I have perfected the story.  I see the paper each morning and that the same man is still President but it feels so far away as not to really touch me.  I’ve read four mysteries. It’s not a vacation from life, it’s more like a detour.  I’m off the track I know.  I don’t know this one very well so I’ve slowed down to a crawl and trying to pay attention.  The problems of my normal track aren’t the problems of my today.  Today, it’s how to balance out activity and rest so as not to push myself too far.  Today, it’s the fine line between pain meds and laxatives so that a secondary pain doesn’t take over all my attention from my healing hip.  These are huge problems to me.

Part 2 soon….

A bientôt,

Sara

Network, the movie

Until Saturday evening, I had never seen the movie “Network” that won four Oscars in 1976.  Turner Classic Movies is probably my favorite TV channel in the US and, as usual, leading up to Oscar Sunday, TCM is showing 31 Days of Oscar…..in alphabetical order!

I don’t know how I missed this movie.  I was recently out of Graduate School, wanted to stay in the Bay Area where jobs were scarce and was probably working around the clock to make ends meet.  I remember the iconic line “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore”.  I also remember that Peter Finch, who starred in the movie and won the Oscar for Best Actor, died before he could pick up his Oscar.  The belief is that his heart was already weak and some of the long impassioned speeches compromised his heart even more and he died of a heart attack months after the release of the movie.

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What was stunning to me as I watched Saturday evening, was how prescient the movie was.  Although supposed to be a “outrageous satire”(Leonard Maltin) , it predicted the news as entertainment and the hero worship of men who express their anger on TV and therefore relate and identify with the supposed mass majority of the American public. The movie opened forty-one years ago and predicted the rise of Donald Trump: a figure that TV made.

In a review that the great Roger Ebert wrote in 1976, he said “we may doubt that a Howard Beale could get on the air, but we have no doubt the idea would be discussed as the movie suggests. And then Chayefsky and the director, Sidney Lumet, edge the backstage network material over into satire, too–but subtly, so that in the final late-night meeting where the executives decide what to do about Howard Beale, we have entered the madhouse without noticing.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the madhouse.

This is indeed a great movie.  I encourage you to read the Ebert review then think about the rise of Donald Trump.

http://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-network-1976

Don’t forget to watch the Oscars this coming Sunday 4pm PST and 7pm EST.  There’s always something memorable even if you have to slog through a lot of commercials and boring speeches to get there.

This will be my last post for awhile.  On Thursday morning, I will be having total hip replacement surgery on my right hip.  I’m told that the process has advanced so much that  I could go home the same day.  I asked to spend one night in the hospital.  I have to learn Physical Therapy and be disciplined about doing it three times a day.  My goal and reward is, if everything goes well as is predicted, I have a return flight to Paris on May 2nd.  I miss Paris terribly.  It is something I will hold in front of me as the undisciplined part of me tries to talk me out of doing PT.

A bientôt,

Sara

We are not alone

A new friend of mine, Janet Hulstrand, asked me if she could interview me about my downsizing efforts and my choice to donate all the money to Planned Parenthood and Immigration/Refugee services.  I was thrilled.  I was thrilled because she thought it was a great idea and wanted to know more about it.  Thrilled because maybe I can get the word out there to raise more money.  Tuesday morning, I donated $1100 to Planned Parenthood of Oakland.  Just from selling lots of my baseball memorabilia!!

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Janet does several blogs and she teaches a great writing course in France just an hour and a half south of Paris.  The one I was featured in is called Downsizing the Home: Lessons Learned:

https://downsizingthehome.wordpress.com/2017/02/10/creative-downsizing-selling-a-collection-for-a-cause/

I read quite a bit of the site and a number of blogs that Janet had written and relearned a lesson that I have to keep learning.  I am not alone.  There are many, many people out their with my problem, seeking help and doing something about it.  Everything is so much easier if we aren’t alone.  I got so much more done when another person just comes over to help me, it’s like borrowing energy!  Many, many books are being written about organizing, purging your house,  going thru everyone of your belongings and holding it.  Does this bring joy? Yes, it’s a keeper.  No, out it goes.  Not every book is for every person but I would bet that every person finds one of those books that speaks to him or her.

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Linda Hetzer and Janet Hulstrand

Buy the e-book here:
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Apple iBookstore
Kobo
(Important note: You don’t need a mobile device to read Moving On: you can download the book to your home computer or laptop by using a reader app, available free online.)

Please note that the authors wrote STUFF in capitol letters just as I do.  Go back to December and watch George Carlin riff about STUFF.  After you have a really good laugh, get your best friend and start looking at all the things you don’t really need.  I’ve come to the conclusion that when we have things we don’t need, it makes for a weight in our bodies, our brains get scattered and certainly we have less time.

This is a job/project worth doing.  Thank you Janet Hulstrand for making me Queen for a Day.  May we all have less THINGS when next we meet!!!

Learn more about Janet’s Writing from the Heart courses in beautiful Essoyes: https://wingedword.wordpress.com/the-essoyes-school/

http://www.theessoyesschool.com

A bientôt,

Sara

 

“Take me for a ride in the car car”*

Driving in the San Francisco Bay Area is a nightmare for me.  There are very few hours in the day when the roads aren’t packed with moving vehicles.  People aren’t nice.  They all seem to be in a hurry.  If you are in their way or they perceive you as an obstacle, you’d better not be having a bad day.  You will be honked at, be given the finger and many other things that if you are thin-skinned might make you cry not to mention have severe doubts about the humanity of Californians.

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When I first moved out here in the early 70s, traffic was a breeze.  People were nice.  They might pay your way across the bridge just because.  Of course, many of us were stoned but better stoned and nice than whatever this is and frightening.

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I was driving home from Albany the other day and the traffic down Marin Avenue was slow but moving.  Someone was turning onto Marin Ave from my right.  S/he had clearly waited as long as s/he was willing to wait and turned onto Marin missing me by centimeters.  I could feel my heartbeat skyrocket.  I’m in a rental car as I don’t own a car, don’t need one in Paris. Incidents like that turn me into a person I don’t like: angry, judgmental and scared.

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When I was 16 going on 17 and learning how to drive, my father used to say to me “Sara, always drive defensively”  Being thin skinned, I thought he was criticizing me and I kept telling him I was a good driver.  I wasn’t.  I drove offensively.  I knew all the techniques for passing, driving in the snow, turning corners and did them well.  I drove like I was the only car on the road.  Now, being bullied and abused on the road here in the Bay Area, I know how absolutely correct he was.  I breath deeply.  I let anyone in who wants to go in front of me.  I stick the speed limit and pray the person tailgating me stays the one foot behind me.  I’ve noticed that I do arrive at my destination more times than not, feeling calmer.

You may be asking yourself “Why doesn’t she take public transportation?” and I’d say back to you “you clearly don’t live here or been here for any length of time”  There is very minimal public transport here in the Bay Area.  Where I live in the lower Oakland Hills, there is a bus that stops about a block away twice a day: to take children to their various schools and to bring them home.  A variety of very powerful people have been fighting building a high speed train from the Bay Area to Los Angeles, even though the money was there, successfully.  If I don’t want to drive, I call Uber or Lyft.  End of story.

Oh but I miss Paris transport.  If it’s not the best in the world, it has to be close to the best.  Where I lived on Git-le-Coeur, I was 3 blocks from the M10, 1 block from M4 and across the street from RER B and C.  I could walk across to the right bank and be at M1 and on and on. And there were sidewalks everywhere.  I could walk if I wanted.  Here there are often no sidewalks so walking puts one in the street–with those drivers I’ve been talking about.

Not only do we not have public transport, when you drive and look in other people’s cars, 80% of the cars have one person in them, the driver.  The United States has always been a car nation, the idea of the Road Trip was born here.  The suburbs as an idea became a reality when New York expanded it’s roadways and people could easily get out to Long Island.  Now to drive from Oakland to San Francisco, a trip of about 10 miles,  often takes an hour and sometimes two hours.  Two friends of mine had moved to Oakland many years ago because they could get so much more house for their money.  Two weeks ago, they announced that they were moving back into the City.  The commute was ‘killing’ them.

Well, you get the idea.  If you love driving, don’t live in the city or it’s suburbs.

A bientôt,

Sara

*song by Woody Guthrie

Action and more

Thank you to all of you who sent me feedback and ideas from my last blog. I’m including a couple of sites on the Internet to look at if you are interested.    One site is:

http://lrsandbox.com   — Living Room Conversations

“Our vision is a world in which people who have fundamental differences of opinion and backgrounds work together with respect, and perhaps joy, to realize the vibrant future we all desire.”

Another reader who empathized with my inability to look at The Donald’s hair sent me a site that changes any photo or picture of Trump into kittens!!!                                                              http://www.businessinsider.com/make-america-kittens-again-google-chrome-extension-replaces-donald-trump-with-kittens-2016-12/#when-you-search-make-america-kittens-again-on-the-chrome-web-store-youll-easily-be-able-to-find-the-extension-all-you-have-to-do-is-hit-the-add-button-and-the-extension-will-be-enabled-on-your-browser-1

“When you search “Make America Kittens Again” on the Chrome Web Store, you’ll easily find the extension. All you have to do is hit the “add” button, and the extension will be enabled on your browser.”

Here is another full of advice for protestors so that we can maintain without losing our minds;                                                  https://medium.com/the-coffeelicious/how-to-stayoutraged-without-losing-your-mind-fc0c41aa68f3#.g6j2p7vkx

For my part, in a quiet time yesterday (I am a meditator, though not formal meditation), an inspiration came to me.  I am going to sell all my baseball memorabilia and raise money for threatened agencies that up until now have received federal funding.  I have chosen Planned Parenthood and Immigration services formed protect immigrants.

https://www.facebook.com/Memorabilia-for-Great-Causes-Planned-Parenthood-and-Immigration-Help-242909892821412/?pnref=story

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People who have known me a long time have seen me collect memorabilia for many, many years.  I love baseball.  My home team is the Oakland Athletics.  We haven’t suffered as long as Cubs fans but we suffer!!!  Even more than objects from the A’s, I love the history of baseball.  I’ve been to the Baseball Hall of Fame many times.  I saw Rickey Henderson get inducted and then Frank Thomas get inducted.  Those weekends are very exciting for baseball fans as almost every Hall of Fame that is able to travel makes an appearance.

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So I have Good Stuff!!!  My friend, Janet, wrote me to say, “Sara, I love that you’re doing this. What a great combination of downsizing and political action! Kudos to you!!!  Please look at the Facebook page and if you know any baseball fans who might like some memorabilia and help these causes at the same time, please refer them to the Facebook page.16266297_243084889470579_4236391502622134759_n.jpg16265285_243084329470635_8921306945482307247_n.jpg

Most of my stuff is signed.  I’ve waited in long lines to get the autographs.  I’ve made my way on to the field to get autographs, been to baseball shows and made bids at auctions. I can’t authenticate anything.  I’m asking you to take my word for their authenticity.  And remember that you will be giving to some great causes.

I heard Dan Rather say that life in America feels like The Twilight Zone.  That is exactly how I would describe it.  Pulling all my memorabilia together, showing it to people and remembering when I got a certain item signed brings me back to the life I love.

A bientôt,

Sara

 

 

All my news apps

Sitting in my wonderful apartment in Paris, I felt very far away from the 2016 Presidential Election and the “peaceful exchange” of power during December and January.  I was sure that being back in the United States would make it more real, less dream-like.  Almost instinctively, I didn’t watch any news on TV except the PBS News Hour.  I had come to really appreciate the news stations in Europe that just report the news without opinions or jeering or humiliation – on either side.  It was refreshing, allowing me to make up my own mind.  The PBS News Hour is much like that.  Reporting the news and an expansion on the important stories during the hour.

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Still, I had news apps set to send me alerts of breaking news.  I had called myself a ‘news junkie’ before I left for Paris.  Now I just wanted to stay on top of the news, know what’s going on.  Last night’s news had me looking at Trump’s hair for more than 2 minutes—I think his wig, or whatever it is that he wears, had slipped and made a big ball on the left side of his head–while the announcers reported on his first full day in office.  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

This morning, I woke up very depressed.  Of course, other physical health things that I’m feeling a bit powerless over are happening to me and certainly add to the blues.  But I haven’t felt this kind of depression in a very long time.  A lot of my good friends have been suffering since the Election.  I was far away and, even though I feared the worst, I just wanted to stick my head in the sand and “give the guy a chance”  As mostly billionaire white men were asked to be in his cabinet, I started fearing for the people who voted him in.  How are they going to feel when they start losing subsidies and whatever little health care the ACA had given to them?

Later this morning, I got an alert from the NYTimes about another executive order signed.  Suddenly I just couldn’t take it any more.  I have no control over what’s going on in Washington but I do have some control over how I’m going to feel each day.  I went to my iPhone settings and turned off all my alerts from my news sources.  I may stop the domestic digest of the NYTimes and only get the International digest.  I can handle that much better.

While I was writing, my friend Barbara sent me a YouTube clip “Make American first, the Nederlands second”  It made me smile, I need to smile.                                                                     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mX_uFqc3WHI&feature=share

I also believe that the antidote to my depression is action.  I will have to do something.  Something that I’m able to do after a hip replacement surgery.  As a university student, I was very active protesting the Vietnam war.  I was a follower then.  I wouldn’t have admitted that at the time.  I couldn’t think very clearly for myself.  Plus, I was not alone.  Being a protester in the north against the War was almost a social event.  It’s important to me that I think clearly, that I do my protesting in a way that fits with my values and beliefs and my capabilities.

This is an on-going saga.  I’ve got four years to perfect my protesting.  One thing I will say about Trump.  He is definitely a unifier.  He has unified my friends and so many others, witness the Women’s Marches all over the world, in a way that hasn’t existed in a very long time.  More to be revealed…..

A bientôt,

Sara