good days and bad days

we all have them. Last night was filled to the brim with dreams of all the really horrible ways everything could go wrong. What if my pelvis is so wrecked they can’t reconstruct it enough to hold the acetabular cup of the new implant? What if infection sets in and they have to remove my entire leg at the hip? I kept waking up in a panic. Everything is worse at 2am. Then I’d think “be a calvinist, peg” and be able to talk myself down with assurances that God is in control, whatever happens. Something good will come of this, whatever happens. Relax. Go to sleep. Now I’m tired, gloomy, resentful of being in this situation.

Who knows, maybe nothing is wrong at all. The failure rate on these implants is about 12%. That’s unacceptably high for a medical device, but it also translates as an 88% success rate. The odds are in my favor, een tho I am haing symptoms of a failure (popping out of joint, groin pain, lower back pain, difficulty walking). I am the queen of psychosomatic reactions, so the hope is Dr S will say “actually it all looks great!” after reviewing the x-rays, and all my symptoms will disappear. That would be fantastic. Only, all the shi…er…stuff started 6 months ago, long before I ever knew of the recall issues.

I am tired of thinking of it. I want something else to worry about. Ok maybe not. At least it’s my issue, and not a child’s, or Terry’s. It’s easier to deal with when it’s my own.

I am sorry that I’m dwelling on it so much, but, that’s the name of the blog, right.

About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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