I’m Scared
No seriously, I am.
Sometimes I open my eyes at night and tears well up as I stare blurrily at the ceiling, or cat fur if the asshat is on my chest, and contemplate what is happening in my life.
Whoa Nelly! Let’s rein in these emotions a bit for some backstory.
I was born a true tomboy. Wandered around with no shoes on, collecting lizards, training dogs, riding on tractors, and later in life – immersed myself in extreme motorsports. Motocross, drifting, offroading, and stand up jet skis. That is where I found one of my true loves – the first being my husband, and the other being reptiles.
Add two knee surgeries, two boob surgeries, a back surgery, some life stuff, a shitload of lizards, and now we’re up to the start of this story.
It was an unseasonably warm 2018 December day in Texas. Or maybe I should say seasonably warm since the weather here is never predictable. I was raking leaves and felt a burn in my groin. It wasn’t a UTI, or even bad gas sadly. After a few weeks of the pain only getting worse I went to to a hip surgeon and told him my complaints. He moved my leg around and shot some x-rays. Before patting my butt out the door (not literally, or I’d be rich) he said I had a cam impingement, also sometimes referred to as a bone spur, and suspected a torn labrum in my left hip. He ordered a MRI. Waiting game, waiting game, waiting game. We rang in the New Year, and after a few weeks I called the office for results. They didn’t have good news when they called back and told me that I did have a torn labrum, but that the surgeon did not perform arthroscopic surgery to fix that particular issue.
Enter surgeon two, one that was recommended by the first surgeon for performing arthroscopic surgery. Visited that office, he ordered some more detailed x-rays, and was hit with more bad news. He would not operate on me due to severity of my congenital hip displasia.
Fuck off man, I’m not a dog!
Well that was my first thought since I grew up with German Shepherd dogs and they commonly had to be put down in old age because of hip displasia.
Anyway.
Arthroscopically grinding down the bone and repairing the cartilage might make my joint more loose, cause more pain, and degrade the cartilage faster. Said I was a good candidate for periacetabular osteotomy (PAO) surgery. The second surgeon recommended a hip displasia specialist who worked out of the Medical Center downtown.
Surgeon three did most of the same plus ordered a CT scan to create a 3D model of my hip to make the final decision. Weeks later I got a call. He strongly recommended the PAO surgery to best fix my pain and deal with the displasia.
Looked like my plans to race stand up jet skis and compete in crossfit, triathlon, and other sports in 2019 was about to change. Along with a lot of other, more important, things.
PAO Stands for Party All Out!
The pain? Eh, it sucks, but I can deal with it. Sure it makes it difficult to sit on the toilet – sometimes I let out a groan that sounds like I’m taking a gnarly shit when I’m actually not even close to the seat. Other times I try to pet my dog or bend to clean a lizard enclosure and have to stop because of the aches and pops. Or rolling over in bed and being awoken by a cattle-prod like poke in the crotch. Fuck man.
The pain of the surgery, cutting my pelvis in 3 places and screwing back together, isn’t even what I’m worried about. It is going to hurt, that is a standard, measurable thing my Type A mind is OK with. It is predictable, even welcome to stop the increasing pain of the torn labrum and pressure in the hip. I’ll earn another scar.
The Truth
My true fear, really the universal human fear, is the unknown.
How is my life going to change? Will there be complications with the surgery? How am I going to help my husband when I can’t walk for 2 months without assistance, how will I be able to grow my reptile business, will I ever be able to ride stand ups again, can I go back to lifting heavy weights, will I be able to birth a child without complications? Hell, will I ever not feel like kicked dog shit when the weather is about to change?!
Nobody has those answers. But fortunately, I have two voices in my head talking to me. You might be familiar with your own from time to time!
One quakes in fear at the thought of uncertainty. The one that seeps out in the form of tears in the wee hours of the morning on sleepless nights. The one that has me huddled in the safety of my husband’s arms getting a temporary respite from the world with his love.
The other gives me a headache from kicking me in the soft spots and calling me a pussy for ever doubting my own greatness. “Of course you will be fine fucker, c’mon you’re the One-Tit-Wonder, look at all the shit you’ve overcome so far!” That’s the spirit, stop giving so many fucks about things you can’t change.
Or better yet – welcome the adversity to grow stronger.
Can’t birth a child through the pelvis? C-sections are a thing know ya know…
Can’t ride stand ups? Pick up the GTO project where you left off for that adrenaline rush.
Worried about your husband dealing with taking care of you and alllll of your reptiles? Eat your veggies, use your crutches, and vacuums are wonderful stationary tools for cleaning monitor water!
See, life isn’t all that scary when you bolster your willpower.
This is only the first step in my journey, and I hope you follow along for the rest of the ride!