My children recently asked me what I want for Christmas. Most people want MP3 players and games consoles, or clothes or boxes of chocolates but I want something you can’t buy from a shop. I want freedom from pain. I want a new hip.
The day I found out my left hip had worn out was the lowest point of 2011. I also found out at the same time that my son had a genetic disability, so it was right up there with my grandmother’s funeral for pure entertainment value.
The Asian doctor stared at me from under his eye glasses, his mouth ever so slightly upturned in an almost smile, whilst holding up a large X-ray picture of my hip.
“You have arthritis in your hip,” he said, “And the hip socket is worn away!”
I stared back at him and the picture. I had been hurting for more than a year and a half, pain that was completely cancelled by glucosamine, a tip I learnt from working for EmpowHer.
I suspected I was slightly arthritic or that it was my fault for not doing my physical therapy. Anyone who is disabled and is put through the weekly visits by the physical therapist knows that by the time you are old enough to be signed off pediatrics, you never, ever ever want to see another physical therapist for the rest of your life.
I rebelled, determined to live my life the way I wanted without endless trips to clinic and people making a big deal of my disability. I didn’t even think about it unless someone else asked me what was "wrong" with me and I was puzzled until it dawned on me they were referring to my disability. So from the age of 16 until 34 I had done what I intended and lived my life without a single consultation regarding cerebral palsy, or any help from anyone.
“How old are you?” the doctor interrupted my thoughts.
“Thirty four,” I replied.
“You’re only 34 and you already need a hip replacement!” he exclaimed, emphasizing the "only’".
Gee, thanks doc, I thought, you were probably absent from medical school the day they were teaching bedside manner because that really didn’t help.
From that day on I descended into the world of osteoarthritis. The pain that had been negligible suddenly became severe within days of my diagnosis, which was curious. Perhaps it only hurt more because I knew what was causing it? Let’s face it, a worn out socket and dislocated hip sounds very painful!
Suddenly I tottered, like a doddery old woman. I could no longer sit on the floor. I had to get one of those "grabbers" to pick things up. I sat in waiting rooms with lots of other people who looked at least 70 and I read magazines like "Saga" for people over 50. I would probably be wearing Tena Lady pads next. Old age had come early.
Of course I fought it, even after my supplements stopped helping. I was way too young and busy to have surgery but the pain became so intense I fell over just trying to catch a bus and codeine had become my new best friend.
I decided that if I had to have surgery, I was going to have the best hip surgeon there was, so I found a list of top ten hip surgeons in the Daily Mail and picked one of those. Apparently other doctors would be happy if they operated on their relatives and if they were good enough for the doctors they were good enough for me. I told my surgeon I would no longer be requiring his services and switched to one from the Daily Mail.
He said that an artificial hip might dislocate on someone with cerebral palsy because of the way they walk and he wanted to turn my leg to the correct position before he attempted surgery. He suggested a neat way to do this would be to inject me with Botox.
Comedy sketches of women with paralysed faces, trying to talk to each other, sprang to mind. I beamed at him.
“Can I get some of that in my face too? It’ll get rid of my age lines!”
Well, there has to be some advantage to this, right?
He looked rather stern. “Botox injections are a serious treatment”, he said, “not just a beauty therapy.”
He tried the steroid hip injection, but that just wore off after three weeks, so despite being only 34, botox and surgery was my only choice. By the time he said that, I was in so much pain I would have happily got my cat to chew off my leg.
I don’t want to be old anymore, so all I want for Christmas is a new hip and my New Year’s resolution is that I will always see my physical therapist. If you need to see one, do it, because you don’t want to end up like me.
Sources:
Botox, Botox.com. Web. 21 December 2011.
http://www.botox.com
Hip Replacement, NHS Choices. Web. 21 December 2011. http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/hip-replacement/Pages/Introduction.aspx
Intra-articular Steroid Injections for the Hip, London Pain Clinic. Web. 21 December 2011. http://www.londonpainconsultants.com/articles/2007/06/10/intraarticular_steroid_injections_for_the_hip
Reviewed December 21, 2011
by Michele Blacksberg RN
Edited by Jody Smith