#Ballinwalker

The inevitable has come to pass: Dan has gone back to work, leaving me home alone. Not alone alone - Mom checks in regularly. We've had to be creative about how I can get all the basic chores of life accomplished (dressing, filling up water bottle, accessing M + Ms and entertainment) without use of both hands and without putting weight on my leg. It's a tad tricky.

So far our routine is air-tight: Dan makes meals in Tupperware containers the night before and leaves them in a grab-a-ble spot in the fridge. In the morning he leaves me with coffee, water and clothes. I can manage pulling a muu-muu over my head but I can't wrangle underwear or pants over my leg so it's easy breezy day wear for me. As of Sunday I can brush my teeth all by myself, independent woman that I am! (Never mind that I'm out of breath afterwards). Showering is only done under supervision so I don't have to worry about that during the day. All of my hygiene and nutrition needs are covered.

My essential possessions like drugs, water bottle, and tablet to watch Netflix are stored in my #ballinwalker:

 

Ain't she sweet? Coral. Styling. #Ballinwalker enables me to be pretty self-sufficient. I can clonk on over to the fridge and stash my pre-prepare meals in my bag and then hobble over to the table to eat them. (Clonk, by the way, is a new verb I'm coining - it really captures the spirit of walking with a walker). I've got my lip balm in case of a chapped lip emergency; hand cream to rub on flaking skin from rash around scar; Kleenex; emergency snack. I'm all set for the day.

 

I'm developing a walker callous on the heel of my left hand. It started yesterday when I walked my farthest distance to date, from the parking lot to the surgeon's office. I'm guessing the distance was under 200m and I did not have to stop for a break mid-way. Hussein Bolt watch your back.

 

The surgeon's appointment went well. An elderly Hutterite lady really wanted to be my friend: we traded hip stories and she asked me when I would finish school. She thought I was 16 and when I told her I was 27 and working she laughed like it was the best joke she'd heard in a while. Dr. Johnston waved me over to the exam room to introduce me to his first PAO patient. She's five years post-op and has young kids and a normal life. Dr. Johnston had her walk down the hallway for me so I could admire her normal gait. Hope really does spring eternal.

 

Dr. Johnston was really pleased with my healing: I have no nerve damage, the pain I feel at night is normal, and my mobility is pretty good. He kind of laughed at me when I got my leg lifter from around my neck to hoist my leg onto the exam table. Apparently most patients aren't as keenly prepared for their appointments.

 

(Leg lifter in action)

 

Dr. Johnston manipulated my joint and moved my knee around in a circle. That felt so wrong - I can't even describe the sensation - it just kind of grossed my body out because the muscles are still protecting the broken bones and my hip has never been able to make that movement smoothly and without pain. Another bizarre sensation is when I lay down my hip bones don't feel the same: the left operated-on hip feels higher, more centered, and the ridge of the hip bone seems more prominent. By comparison the right hip feels shallower and off to the side. It's weird.

 

Anyways, I next meet with the surgeon in one month. I'll have X-rays done and I may be able to increase my weight bearing status! Until then I'll be hanging with my cats in my muu-muus, just generally keeping it real in true #ballinwalker fashion.