Hip replacement surgery, for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing it, is basically a breeze. The worst part of it all came by way of the nurse who shaved the surgical site. She, and I’m being more than kind, was a sadistic, man-hating demon who enjoys inflicting as much pain as possible in a very short period of time.
She tore open a package containing a razor and then came at me with two glowing eyes and a flickering forked tongue, while reciting some sort of Charles-Mansonish incantation.
When the razor hit the flesh, dry, by the way, it felt as if she’d begun to peel away my skin one layer at time. I asked her to slow down a bit but my tearful pleas only seemed to fuel her fire.
She was relentless, and evil. She was the the love-child of the Grinch and Freddy Kruger with a side order of Dahmer. The woman has issues.
She, while standing there with razor in hand, told me to remove all of my clothing, leaving nothing but a smile or frown. That choice was mine to make. But everything else had to go.
The surgeon entered my room and signed my left hip. He wished me luck, an odd thing to say since the extent of my luck was in his hands.
Nurses popped in and out and each were as sweet as a slice of Grandma’s homemade apple pie. The “Shaving Demon” should take lessons from them.
The post-surgery doctor popped in to, again, wish me luck and to tell me that I was in extremely capable hands. I already know this because we’d done our homework. My surgeon’s track record is excellent. Besides, I really like the guy. His personality is top-notch and he doesn’t pull any punches.
The anesthesiologist spent a bit of time with me and he, like the others, quickly learned my odd and quirky sense of humor. We spent several minutes cracking jokes while he adjusted dials, knobs, and switches on something that looked like the Wayback Machine from the Rocky and Bullwinkle TV show. His one-liners had the flavor of Phoef Sutton’s dialog from the TV show Cheers, a series Phoef wrote.
And then it was time …
Three nurses approached the side of my bed and asked me to sit up with my legs dangling over the side. The nurse in the middle pulled me close, placing the top of my head just above her cleavage. The other two wrapped their arms around me and held me tightly. More nurses stood ready, as backup, I suppose, in the event that I went all Tasmanian Devil. I surmised, being the savvy detective I am, that what was about to take place was not going to be a high point in my life.
The anethesiologist held up a gilded box containing a sword needle that Indiana Jones would’ve given his very life to obtain. To me, it looked to be approximately nine feet in length with a spearhead large enough to bring down a T-Rex.
The nurses, all at once, grabbed and pulled me close in a death embrace. And that’s when the needle punctured the flesh at my lower spine. This injection was to deaden my bottom half to the point of feeling nothing from the waist down.
With all of the pagentry, I was expecting some horrific and unbearable pain. Pain that not even Superman could endure. But no, it was nothing more than the usual stick.
Two hours later I opened my eyes and it was over. My former hip was gone. Out. Done. Garbage. In its place is a manmade steampunkish device that promises to be a welcome addition to my body.
The best part of it all is that the pain was gone. That horrible pain I’d experienced for well over a year …. was no more.
So, how do I feel about health care in Delaware? Well, finding a primary care physician was an impossibility. There’s a real shortage of doctors in this area and the closest appointment I could find was in the summer of 2019. I’d started the search in the fall of 2018. So I tried making an appointment with a nurse practitioner at the University of Delaware. She saw me two days later and my surgery was scheduled asap.
I couldn’t be more pleased with the care I’ve received from the surgery team and from the medical folks at the University of Delaware. In fact, I begin physical therapy tomorrow … at the University of Delaware’s state of the art facility.
So, for now, my cane, Virgil, is getting a bit of rest until the day comes when he’s once again needed. His stand in, Little Johnny “Walker” (Jack Black’s first cousin) will help to get me from place to place.
