THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS

After nine months of varying degrees of pain & discomfort, my hip replacement surgery is scheduled for July 17 - just nineteen days away! I chose to go to the Institute for Joint Replacement (IJR) in Fremont (about 120 miles from our home). My son lives 12 miles away in Hayward making it easy to drive in yesterday to play with my Charley before all my pre-op appointments today.

I headed out this morning & took the shortest route down Mission Blvd. This area is my old stomping grounds. I lived in Hayward for 50 years & spent a lot of time up & down Mission Blvd. Not surprisingly, I was bombarded by memories of every era of my life - the McDonald's where Darrin & I created "Ash Scattering by Air"; Darrin's high school; the barn (now houses) where I rode horses; the old roller skating rink (now a pile of rubble); the first apartment building where my sister lived; Big Daddy's Drive-In (long gone); & Darrin's train club at the Niles Depot to name a few.

The list goes on & on with literally about 100 places or events from my past popping into my mind as I drove by the images of my life. Many things are gone or look different now but they all came alive in my thoughts. And, there are quite a few memories that will continue to remain completely personal as a smile crossed my lips.

But back to my impending hip surgery. Let me be clear - I don't want it! I'm somewhat unnerved since I have never in my 68 years had major surgery! I'm apprehensive about every bit of it! AND I keep hoping I'll wake up one morning, feel fine & be able to walk without pain. BUT seeing as how that hasn't happened, I am resigned to knowing that if I want any kind of active life in my remaining years, this is absolutely necessary.

Having done my homework, I am 100% sure that I have one of the best surgeons in the country & am at the best place possible to have my hip replaced. Everyone I have met or interacted with from the scheduler to the physician's assistants to the physical therapist to the doctor has impressed the hell out of me! They have dotted every "i" & crossed every "t" - several times. I feel valued as a person, not just a patient.

A couple weeks ago, I received a binder full of information regarding every aspect of my hip surgery. There were forms to fill out & chapters covering pretty much anything & everything about the procedures that have been finely honed down to every tiny detail. I was told to bring the binder with me to every appointment for the next year starting today.

The surgery will be done with a spinal block not general anesthetic, meaning I will be awake, making recovery easier. I will be given the choice of watching my surgery on monitors or being almost asleep with sedation. Uhhh, right - no way in holy hell am I watching the surgeon saw off pieces of my bones & pound metal into me! I'll take door number two & sleep through it!

Anyway, today after having blood drawn, peeing in a cup, getting an EKG & having my hip x-rayed, I was interviewed by a nurse who put everything into the computer. The IJR is attached to Washington Hospital in Fremont but has its own testing area, its own patient rooms & is separate from the hospital other than using their operating rooms. Next I was seen by a physician's assistant who double checked all the information & gave me a complete rundown of exactly what to expect.

My final pre-op event today was a class given by occupational & physical therapists who work for IJR. About 8 or 9 of us knee & hip replacement candidates filed into the Power Point presentation all carrying our required binders like good little students. They shared everything that will happen from the night before surgery up until we are discharged & beyond. I am as well informed & as ready as I'll ever be.

A long time ago I bought a CD for my dad that uses guided imagery meditations in preparing for surgery. I made him listen to it before his back surgery 15 years ago. It says that you don't need to believe it will work just let the suggestions simmer in your subconscious - one of which is reducing the blood flow during surgery. When he surgeon talked to us afterwards, he remarked how remarkable little bleeding there was. Whoa! I'm a believer!

I've shared it with several people since then & have started listening to it myself this past week. I even bought an old refurbished CD player on ebay to take to the hospital. The IJR encourages people to listen to whatever music or relaxation CDs they prefer. There is a "day of surgery" meditation & a "healing after surgery" one, too. I'll be listening to both of them!

I'm one who has always liked to cover all the bases so I would not be at all adverse to anyone who might want to say a prayer or think good thoughts for my successful outcome on July 17th. If all goes as planned, I will be home on July 18th & will keep you posted.

POMP AND CIRCUMSTANCE

Last week a friend, Helen, posted on Facebook that it had been 50 years since she graduated from high school. As I marveled at that statement, my first thought was simply "Wow!" Then I realized that since we are the same age it has also been 50 years since I graduated from high school. OH, MY GOD! Fifty years! Half a century! That is a long ass time! The math can't possibly be right, can it?

Honestly, I hadn't even considered how many years it had been since I graduated. It never even entered my mind to wonder how long ago I completed high school. I only went to one reunion, my tenth, & really wasn't interested in any more. I haven't kept in touch with anyone from my high school days. We all went our separate ways & moved on to adulthood.

Many people I know love reminiscing about their teenage years & miss them dearly. Truthfully, I hated school - pretty much from grammar school on but especially my high school days. I have no real idea why I had no use for school, but I didn't. I was an intelligent young woman who got good grades & graduated 9th in my class of over 400. For a couple years I hung out with the brainiacs but really didn't fit into that group.

My junior year I moved on to the hippie scene (this was the mid-1960s after all). But again, I didn't fit in well since I refrained from "free love" & only smoked grass (that was our term of choice for marijuana) once or twice. Looking back I never liked the feeling of being out of control. And probably the biggest reason was that I was afraid my mother would indeed kill me if I came home stoned or pregnant. The worst thing I did was take up smoking at age 16. Fortunately, I quit ten years later & have never smoked a cigarette again.

Now, that my mother has long ago passed away & my father will never see this, I can share my greatest teenage deception. My parents had a cute, little two-seater sports car - a 1960 British MGA. That was the car I learned to drive on & I loved tooling around, shifting & enjoying the wind in my hair with the top down. I had cut if off super short like Mia Farrow in Peyton Place. Only if you are on the other side of 60 will you understand this reference.

Back to my version of hell raising (Hah!). The gas gauge didn't work so we used the trip odometer to make sure we filled it up every 250 miles or so before resetting it. Somehow, I discovered that if you twisted the little knob backwards you could take miles off the trip odometer rather than pushing it to zero it out. Myself & two girlfriends (you could squeeze three of us in the two seats) would take the MG to San Leandro to cruise East 14th Street on Friday nights. In hindsight, I'm not sure what the big draw was about cruising. Do kids still do it?

Anyway, to cover our tracks, we knew that the car got about 25 miles per gallon so we would turn the odometer back however many miles we put on the car & added enough gas to cover those miles. My parents never found out! There was a great deal of satisfaction knowing I put one over on my mother. I guess it was my way of living dangerously as a sixteen year old.

Yeah, that was about as wild as this child got during my high school years. I started riding horses when I was fourteen. My social focus was always at the stable after school & on weekends. I didn't participate in any clubs or after school activities. I didn't attend my Junior Prom or Senior Ball - just wasn't interested. All I wanted from school was O-U-T, OUT! Even with those great grades, I did not want to go to college. I had enough of school & was adamant that I wasn't going any longer than the law made me.

Those of you who know me are aware that I am an emotional person. I cry at movies, books & even Folgers coffee commercials where the kid comes home from school to surprise his mom. Those Christmastime ads with the Budweiser draft horses get me every time. A heartfelt card or sentiment from any of my sweeties & I'm a blubbering mess.

BUT when my high school graduation day finally arrived, I never teared up or sniffled at anything. There wasn't one emotional moment which I still find hard to believe. I was just so damned happy to get my diploma & get the hell out of there! I'm pretty sure I headed for the barn to celebrate with my horse.