Jon’s hip journey: D-day and beyond




Stung like a bee – but not exactly floating like a butterfly!

Our Head of Business Operations, Jon Keating, is recovering from a hip replacement operation – not a surprise (we’ll recap on that in a moment), but at the age of 46, it is a little sooner than he anticipated.

Having made himself his very own case study, this is Jon’s second blog in his series looking at his experiences of the NHS and reflecting on how our sector supports him after surgery.

Here, Jon chronicles the events on the day of the operation, which took place between Christmas and new year and the trials – and some tribulations – he’s encountered since.




If a doctor ever tells you an injection will feel like a bee sting, be prepared for the biggest, most painful bee sting you’re ever likely to encounter. That never-to-be-forgotten moment happened when I was given an epidural into my spine to prepare me for my new hip operation at the Alexandra Hospital, known as The Alex, in Cheadle on the outskirts of south Manchester, a plush private hospital supporting the NHS in one of its many hours of need.

It was the culmination of a day that began with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Having arrived at The Alex early as instructed, I found myself stuck in my private hospital room until 1pm. I wasn’t allowed to go walkabout, which made the wait feel even longer, and it’s fair to say the anxiety triumphed over anticipation when, as I walked to the operating theatre, my vitals were all over the place – blood pressure displaying an amber warning and a sky high temperature.

I was worried the surgery might have to be postponed but it wasn’t, and I soldiered on manfully (well, that’s my version!)

Earlier in the day, as I endured my hospital room imprisonment, I had a visit from Occupational Health to talk me through what was going to happen and to pass on advice about best practice after the operation, such as keeping your hip higher than your knees for three months, avoiding my hips going beyond 90 degrees, getting dressed with a litter picking-style claw, using a sock applicator, and something that looks like a fishing net, but without the net, for getting your leg into bed.

A word to the wise if any clinician is reading this – I couldn’t help but feel some of the information would have been much more beneficial earlier in proceedings, as in not on the day of the op, as it left me feeling totally unprepared for what was to come.



Post-op blur is replaced by tentative first steps

For anyone who hasn’t read the first chapter of my new hip journey, it is the result of something called a slipped epiphysis of the left femur. It happened when I was 16 and I was told at the time that I could be susceptible to some complications when I reached my 40s or 50s. Impeccable timing if nothing else!

The immediate aftermath of the surgery is a blur. My legs felt like they were stuck in the air, and I couldn’t feel them at all. The swelling in my operated leg was significant and was still swollen three weeks later.

Intermittent pneumatic compression, known as IPC, is necessary to prevent deep vein thrombosis after surgery. The IPC device uses cuffs that fill with air to squeeze your leg and increase blood flow through the veins, but its constant inflation and deflation prevented me from sleeping properly.

Regular monitoring and pain relief were a constant, but the sensation of numbness was unsettling. I kept fighting to move my legs, but the nurse kept saying, ‘Jon it won’t happen’.

Anyway, we got to chatting and it turns out my nurse used to be a competitive swimmer just like I once was, so we had a nice long chat about that. It certainly kept my mind off other things before I had to confront the inevitable – the first tentative steps using a Zimmer frame and, later, crutches.

Here I am giving it my best shot but not without a grimace or two!

Using a Zimmer frame, and crutches, was a new experience while getting into bed required a leg lift, which was no easy feat. Here’s what I mean…

While getting used to using a Zimmer frame and crutches is necessary, being given them for the first time after surgery, when you’re at your most tender, isn’t ideal. The pain is relentless and managing it is a full time preoccupation to the point of being exhausting.

Pre-surgery practice with both aids would be very beneficial and I think it would have helped me a lot. I would say the same about post-surgery physio too – doing the exercises in advance of the operation would be good practice and, again, very beneficial.

One final insight – using crutches takes a painful toll on your hands, so be prepared for that.

Going home isn’t an option until you’ve proved you are proficient and reasonably mobile on crutches.

The ride home was uncomfortably challenging, as was the journey to the car in the first place. I was given a low wheelchair that made me bend my hips beyond 90 degrees, going against every piece of advice that this needed to be avoided. I think I would have preferred to walk to the car!



Overcoming an all-consuming house of cards

 

So, what’s it been like being at home after the operation? The aftermath of such an operation is an all-consuming house of cards – one issue leads to another and then to another and so on.

Finding a balance between sleep and pain control (the volume of medication was overwhelming to begin with) is a constant struggle. Fatigue sets in quickly, making everything feel like a monumental task. That particular issue hasn’t been helped by a loss of appetite – struggling to eat doesn’t help recovery. And don’t talk to me about the constipation! This unexpected and uncomfortable side effect might be alleviated with some guidance on food and diet.

Everyday tasks have been transformed into mini challenges. Anyone who has been through this experience will already know that getting dressed is a new creative experience, using a litter picker to help with dressing and a sock device to put on your socks!



Beating frustration and beware of wet floors

 

Chronicling my journey in this way is partly to reflect on how our industry, let’s call it leisure for now, helps to get me through rehab. That’s another chapter I’ll share with you later on.

For now, much of my rehab has been at home. The process is slow. I like to set myself little targets for the number of steps in a day, but frustratingly, my Garmin doesn’t seem to count steps when you’re using crutches.

Here I am doing some of my exercises…

I must confess, frustration has crept in on occasions. It was difficult to see the small wins amidst all the challenges. I sometimes felt like I’d lost my mojo (although friends and colleagues will be glad to know I’ve got it back again!)

My rehab has coincided with one of the worst cold snaps for several years and that led to another learning curve.

A trip to Aldi (other supermarkets are available) resulted in the crutches going out from underneath me when I encountered a wet floor.

It was pretty scary and really does highlight how those people who are frail, or who have a disability, or balance issues, could face into isolation in inclement weather. Another lesson, but an important one, is the flooring we use in public places can be lethal if they are only slightly wet.

On this occasion, I had my partner Emily with me, thankfully, but I’m not keen to go again and repeat it. On a more positive note, I’ve found snow and crutches can be compatible if you stick to grassy areas, it’s help me get out and about and being in outdoors has done me a power of good.

 

The kindness of strangers

 

A massive thank you to Julie Ford, a PE teacher for 48 years and still going strong, who has been involved in health, fitness and wellbeing for the same period of time. Julie is the creator of INSTEPP, an innovative and unique walking resistance invention.

We’ve never met, but Julie saw my story on LinkedIn and got in touch. We chatted about rehab post-surgery, and she has since sent me the instepp.co.uk equipment to help regain my strength and build back my fitness. We’ve since had a really lovely chat on the phone.

The kindness of strangers.



Lessons so far

 

From a personal perspective, I think the following is critical – build up upper body strength and lose weight if you’re packing a few extra pounds, which will make moving about on crutches easier.

However, my best advice for anyone facing this surgery would be to get your house in order for the post surgery period:

  • Get everything you use regularly into cupboards or drawers at or above waist height.
  • Consider (particularly for those who may live alone), some batch cooking and particularly for the first week or so have some meals saved in the freezer.
  • Tee up some friends and family (or have some online deliveries booked) for your groceries.

 

Importantly, protect your mental health. There’s been some dark moments, particularly when I was unable to get any fresh air due to the cold snap.

Arguably I’ve done this a little bit soon, but I did manage a little trip to the local for a Guinness 0.0 (it’s dry January after all!) or two. Creating a sense of normality and catching up with mates really gave me the boost I needed.

I’ve also managed a few hours in the Life Leisure offices, and it felt so good again, to be mingling with work friends for a few hours. It’s those little wins and keeping the mind active and stimulated that I believe are as important as the physical recovery.

 

 

 

Jon will be back with more reflections and experiences of his hip replacement journey in the weeks to come. Stay tuned. In the meantime you can also follow his journey on LinkedIn.

 





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