Synchronistic
and serendipitous events have occurred in my
life at different times, always unexpectedly,
and always I've greeted these events with
amazement and surprise, which is an interesting
response given the number of times I have had
these `out of the ordinary' experiences. One
would imagine that I would have developed a more
blase attitude to their occurrence, but that is
not so at this time.
An
example of one such experience happened back in
January 1989 in Hobart. I was in my local
newsagent, browsing, when I picked up the
`Gemini Horoscope Booklet for 1989', you know
the type, a smallish book that has daily,
monthly as well as yearly forecasts for a
particular star sign. I flipped to the daily
forecast for February 1st, which was a Tuesday.
Imagine my incredulity when I read this
particular day's forecast .......which began
with `HIP HIP HOORAY...'
Now I
know you must be thinking "what's so special or
synchronistic about that".... ..... and the answer
to your query is that on Tuesday 1st February 1989
I had a very important appointment, probably one of
the most important and scariest appointments I've
had in my entire life to date. It was the day I was
booked to go to the operating theatre to have both
my hips replaced. In medical terms this surgery is
called Bilateral Total Hip Replacements.
`HIP,
HIP HOORAY ALRIGHT!' I was 39 years old at the
time.
The four
weeks and five day in hospital; four weeks of which
was spent lying flat on my back, not being allowed
to sit up, even partially, was at times horrendous
and does not bear dwelling on. I was left feeling
profoundly sorry for all those people, who, because
of medical problems, have to spend much longer, if
not all their lives in such a dependent situation.
The loss of dignity and independence is
devastating.
- Thankfully
this surgery was successful and when I
began walking with the aid of elbow
sticks, it was wonderful to find that
this was pain free.
- To
be free of pain is like a
miracle.
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For some
of you who are reading this you will know when I
talk about the deep exhaustion one experiences when
having to live with pain. This exhaustion is
initially physical and as time progresses it
becomes an intense emotional and spiritual
exhaustion. So exhausting that eventually it
effects one to the depth of `one's being'. I
remember how I used to have `grit my teeth' and `to
take a deep breath' whenever I stood up from
sitting; when walking; when getting in and out of
the car; when, whilst driving having to lift my
left leg (with my hand) on and off the clutch
pedal; and in many other aspects of my
life.
It is
with intense emotion that I recall thinking prior
to my surgery that if anything went wrong during
the operation, I would eagerly and willingly `go
down that tunnel towards the light'. Life had
seemed so tough that I had momentarily lost the
`will to live'. I felt ashamed and frightened to be
thinking like this, so ashamed that initially I
could not share my fears with anyone. This seemed
to give more power to these fears. There is a part
of me that believes that we `create our own future'
and consequently my anxiety was increased a
hundredfold. I also felt dreadfully guilty about
harbouring these thoughts - to think that I might
choose death over life and leave my dear sweet ten
year old son Eamon without `his mum'.
I am
sharing this with you because of the insights I
have gained from the experience. These fears were
frighteningly real and it was only when I overcame
my shame and embarrassment and discussed them with
my Mother and my dear friend Vicki, that I was able
`to release the hold' that they had on me. I
immediately felt confident that I would not die.
Needless to say this was an important turning point
in my life. This experience validated the adage `a
problem shared is a problem halved'
I'll
share one more thing with you from that time and
that is that I asked for my hips to be kept and
given to me after the operation. I'm sure the
surgeon and the nursing staff thought I was crazy,
but as a nurse myself, I had been accustomed to
patients receiving their gallstones and or their
appendix in little jars post-operatively, so I
thought to myself "why not my hips".
I was
presented with a round plastic takeaway container
and sitting in this, in formalin, were two roundish
balls, each with a small stump attached. These
stumps of bone had been sawn off from the top of my
femurs. The ball sections looked like overgrown dim
sims, their surface rough and pitted, instead of
smooth and shiny. This may seem macabre, but it was
important for me, to be able to see these damaged
parts of my body, important, in order to come to
terms with why I had had the pain and why it was
necessary to have my hips replaced with shiny new
ceramic prostheses.
I kept
them in an old Nescafe jar at home in the hall
cupboard for nearly eighteen months. Eventually I
buried them beneath a rose bush named `Double
Delight'.
Last
month was the fifth anniversary of `my new hips'. I
continue to feel grateful and to experience a sense
of joy and relief at the new lease of life
resulting from this operation. I do not have pain;
I no longer take medication; I move well compared
to before; my walking continues to improve and I
occasionally (although somewhat tentatively) ride
my bicycle.
I thank
my Orthopaedic Surgeon for a `job well done' and I
thank God that I have been given this opportunity
to come alive again, physically, emotionally and
spiritually and I say with joy, gratitude and in
celebration -
Hip,
Hip, Hooray!
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Ellie Large
March 1994 ©
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