My left hip has taken a toll for the worse.
But, the newbie and unaccustomed physical pain that is now attacking and spreading like a slow-moving and vicious virus in my anterior left thigh along with the usual posterior and left side raw, tingling, and nearly electrifying pains do not even compare to the mental torture. Such mental pangs leave me craving and needing a frontal lobotomy procedure to quiet the various voices of my family members, friends, and doctors in my head more so than the hip replacement surgery.
The only voice that has been missing in action amongst the chorus of other voices is my very own voice and what I truly want and need for myself and my body. I've been asking myself every single day and nearly every single minute:
"Mary, what do YOU want?" or
"Mary, what do YOU need?"
and:
"Mary, you have FINALLY grappled with the biggest hurdle ever that you have to get a hip replacement surgery. The BIG QUESTION IS: WHEN?! MAKE A DAMN DECISION, AND JUST DO IT!!!"
But, every choice, action, and decision we make or take affects the people I love and care about the most from the decision-making process to the day of the surgery and then, finally, to the aftermath of rehabilitation and coming to grips with a replacement gal in me who has had a total of 5 kidneys and soon to be replaceable hip....and a patridge in a pear tree **chortling**
No matter how many times people have turned into broken records and feathered, shrieking parrots to repeat to me: "Mary, you can't think about other people. You only need to think of yourself," my overdriven mind that is a combined gift and curse can't help but see how the unfair and yet blessed cards that I was dealt with are hurting my family.
Sprawled on the couch at my parents' home face up and all snot-nosed and with fat tears rolling down my face on 4th of July, I said to my Dad: "I'm all set for the surgery in September, but I keep wondering what is it like to have these artificial items in my body? What is it going to be like to have a new hip? What is it like to supposedly NOT have pain? I've been accustomed to my messed up hip for so long that maybe the doctor is right that a sudden change with this hip replacement surgery will have an adverse result rather than a helpful result. It is the age old and ongoing question of do I get the surgery when I can't take the pain anymore or do I get the surgery to prevent all my other body parts from falling a part on me? It is the age old and ongoing question of do I deal with the pain and what I know as opposed to dealing with something brand new that can be either really great or really horrible?"
Without waiting for my Dad to answer me, I continued to ramble on, "I'm realistic, you know. I'm not worried and don't care about the surgery. Cut me open. Slice me up. Pop in those ceramic on ceramic babies and bring it on. I'm just terrified of the aftermath. I'm scared of the rehab, depending on other people, how all of this will affect everyone else, and that, God forbid, something horrible is going to happen to my kidneys. But, most of all, I'm scared of the weight and responsibility that my decision will bear on me and the people I care about. Right now, you and all the other people I love and care about suffer from seeing me in pain, but what if I end up making you suffer more if the surgery goes wrong? If something goes wrong, I will be so furious and angry at myself and the world. I know it. I know I will. The last thing I want to do is regret a decision that I weighed so heavily on..."
My Dad's lower lip stuck out like a little puckered baby. The life lines on his face that were partly caused by me and all the health challenges that began when I was 7-months-old were crinkled and drawn together in deep thought. He sat on HIS couch (no one else was allowed to sit there except for him) and finally said: "You have to go through the surgery with a positive attitude that there will only be a positive outcome. If something goes wrong, we'll deal with it. If everything goes right, we'll celebrate. Whenever you are ready for the surgery, you are ready. And, I'll be there in whatever way I can be, but you have to know that I'm no longer running on 8 cylinders. I'm only on 2 cylinders now...."
That is when my petite and soft-spoken Stepmom stepped in and said: "Your Dad is getting older, too. Your Dad has health issues, too. This is what you should and need to do: Finish your book and publish it. Lose weight, so you can be in tip top shape for surgery. Take things easy, and lessen the load on your plate. Look into building outside of the shoe or finding some level of comfort from now until the Spring when you should get your surgery. The fact that you are having doubts...the fact that you are still so active and able to manage everything...the fact that you still thing about such activities and things to do means you are not ready for surgery. You have to mentally prepare yourself. The best time for you to have the surgery for us is next Spring or Summer anyway because of your Dad's teaching schedule. That's it. Case closed."
I only said to my parents as I looked between them back and forth like a pendulum: "I don't think my body can handle until next spring."
They just stared back at me, not knowing what to say. Not knowing what they could say. And, off was my mind to the races with knowing that I am choosing the hip replacement surgery, but not knowing WHEN without affecting my family and their lives and schedules. Do I get the surgery in September? Autumn. Good season. Beauiful season. A season that I could recover in. But, if I get the surgery in Autumn then what about the transplant event I was invited to in September? What about my long-lost guy buddy in Chicago, Illinois who has had two heart transplants and a kidney transplant that I am supposed to meet in September? What about my dearest friend in Argentina that is supposedly coming in October? Is September too soon? It is literally around the corner. Then, September is going into winter and winter is not a pleasant time to deal with anything with my health....
Okay, then I thought, what about Spring? Yes, Spring is warmer. Yes, my parents schedules should supposedly be lighter. But, can I wait and tolerate the pain that has hammered at me relentlessly this past year? Can I do it? Yes, I can do it if I have to for my family. But, I don't know if my body can do it.
Seeing my osteopath yesterday was the straw that finally broke my back. I was absolutely dreading seeing her because she made her stance very clear that I could no longer avoid this hip replacement surgery. I really did not want to hear her lecture, yet savvy coaxing that I had to go through with this surgery, because her words would only conflict with my parents who were making it abundantly clear that they were getting older and guilt washing over me that I was adding to their age. On the car ride to my osteopath, the insides of my stomach churned with gut-wrenching twists. I coached myself to not even mention the surgery and prayed that she would not mention it either. My prayers were useless.
She asked me: "You are set to get the surgery in September, right?"
I felt like I was in middle school again with being backed into a corner and ready to be given detention. I stumbled and stuttered over my words about my parents' and their schedules conflicting with Autumn and that Spring was probably the best because the weather would be warmer. I yammered on and on until my osteopath finally placed a firm grip on my wrist and she said: "You know how I feel about the necessity of you getting the surgery. Focus on the Transplant Games that you are competing in. Take everything out of your mind. Wipe all the voices and opinions that you have heard from me, your parents, your friends, etc. Let go. You have time to think about what to do. Your body will tell you. You need to do what you need to do. This is about you, Mary Wu. No one else. You need to do what is best for Mary Wu."
I whimpered pathetically: "But, I don't know what to do. But, I don't have time. Time is running out."
Returning back home, my mind went from overdrive to out of control about my family and how my decision of when to get this surgery was going to impinge on their lives. My thoughts were so out of control that I posted on my facebook status:
"
I was officialy and incredibly fed up with my mind going mad with the vicious circle of thoughts, but then the acts of kindness from my friends (my Father does call them "my angels") stepped in like beacons of light.
The first act of kindness came in a form of a long email from my friend for at least 20 years with the subject entitled: "I am Your Sign." This friend had been with me when my first kidney transplant had went through complications, my second kidney transplant and an acute kidney rejection, high school, college, and now as we approached 30-years-old. Out of all my friends, she knew how my mind worked, but she especially knew my spirit by saying:
"The longer you put off a decision, the more likely it will nag at you and you don't want to deal with that lone with your discomfort. A surgery is a surgery, but when it comes to its success, half the battle is YOU yourself not statistics. Mare, you are the feistiest person I know and if there is anyone I know that could have a successful outcome to hip replacement surgery, it is you. You are tops in your game. And, you are not alone. Everyone loves you and will be there for you."
I have yet to reply to her email, because I end up feeling all emotional and sentimental all over again when I read and re-read it. She has been the one to give me a boosted reality check wrapped up in sweetness, sympathy, and support all in one.
The second multiple acts of kindness has come from a close co-worker of mine who I have met outside of work to go book hunting happy. She has literally listened to me carry on about my predicament without shedding one opinion when I've shared, made me homemade Cosmos in tinted $1 plastic martini glasses, and has been the one to pick me up and drive me around to our bookstore getaway. The only words that slipped from her lips when I told her the latest back and forth fiasco was: "It is a tough decision."
I can never thank her enough. She has been the one to make me forget and escape from my thoughts for just a little while with laughter and a world of books, wonder, and old-fashioned: "Let me be there for you just to be there for you, and I will be there for you without saying one word. Because I care. Because you are my friend."
Another act of kindness came from my peaceful and calm colleague. I tried to explain my situation in with an analogy: "So, my body is like my toilet when it was having problems..."
"You are comparing your body to your toilet?" He asked with crooked, yet doubtful smile.
"Yeah, do you remember when my toilet wasn't working? I think I told you about that. So, the toilet was clearly broken but still manageable whenever I lifted that little flap thingy on my own. That one guy came to fix it, but he ended up making it worse. The toilet ended up flushing every 10 seconds. That guy said that my only option was to buy a new toilet. I didn't trust him, went to another guy, and that guy ended up fixing the toilet with the right material. Therefore, this is like my body. Sometimes, you rather just deal with what you have rather than a whole new situation that could cause more problems for you. And, then, sometimes it is a matter of having the right person with the right material. And, although I trust my doctors, I'm not sure if a new situation is going to be a right situation when I've been dealing with the same situation and can manage it as I have been now."
He just stared at me with a bemused expression. Going further into our conversation, he finally said: "It isn't an easy decision. But, you have to do what you have to do for you. For no one else. Without thinking about other people. But, you know what you should do is have a family meeting with all your calendars and then choose a date that works best. "
"That's not a bad idea," I said.
I can never thank him enough for listening and providing that voice of logical reasoning and thinking. As soon as he said that to me, I contacted my family saying that we needed to find the best date that would work so we could work together as a family.
More acts of kindness have derived from my college friends who I met with a couple weeks ago in the sultry and steamy New York City heat. I had not seen one of the college friends since I graduated from 2004. She suffered from diabetes, and knew all too well about my battle for balance of craving to stay active and do all that I have to and want to do yet being held back from my worsening body. She boldly told her parents: "Mary has a hip condition. We have to get a head start to walk there, and she needs to rest periodically."
I stared at her open-mouthed. I didn't even know what to say. When the walk to the restaurant began, she said: "If I'm walking too fast, just let me know."
After a 10-minute walk, I had to sit down. My friend shocked me again when she said to the hostess at the crowded Italian restaurant that swarmed with overheated bodies: "My friend has a hip condition. She has to sit down. She can't wait an hour standing up. Something has to be done." She forced me to sit on the edge of a wooden seat until I eventually has to take over the entire seat. My other college friend stopped to wait for me and gently put her hand on my shoulder when we were finally called to sit down after the hour-long wait: "Don't worry, Mary. I'm here for you. I'll take care of you."
I was wordless and warmed in my body to such care, concern, and protection from my college friends. I can never thank them enough for being my protectors and voice when my voice has been lost to ask for help and about my weaknesses.
I think about these acts of kindness, and I wonder if I could ever be as patient, kind, logical, protective, and supportive as all my friends have been to me?
These acts of kindness from people who are unrelated to me, yet know me all too well with my mind on speed, meticulous attention to all the details involved with the surgery and anything/everything else, and anguish from seeing my family hurting because of me. These acts of kindness make me stronger and able to say to my family who I love more than anything in this world: "I'm going to be okay, because I am too lucky and blessed to have so many people here for me. More than that, we are going to be okay, and we are going to get through this latest hurdle as a we and not just me." These acts of kindness propel me to give back and give forward with more kindness than ever imagineable. These acts of kindness from my doctors, friends, and my family make me understand that my aching Arthritis, deteriorating hip, and physical weaknesses force me to a role that is completely out of my comfort zone and that entails asking for help, depending on others, and being out of control. It is out of my comfort zone that I am finding my voice and making my choice for me that, I believe, will only do the people I love and myself good in the long-term.
So, yes, I can say that hip replacement surgery is going to happen, but it still hangs in a balance of WHEN.
As my Dad said: "People in your situation have so much to teach the world and especially people your age about patience and strength."
And, as my osteopath said it best: "Mary, you've been strong all your life. You've been the one to help and give to others. You've been the happy one. Now, it is your turn to ask for and get the help that your need and that your body is obviously calling you out to need."
Finally, as the fortune teller in Taiwan predicted and said to my Stepmom: "Mary is going to meet and need a lot of people in her life from 28-32."
Looks like the fortune teller was right on target, and how blessed I am with these acts of kindness from these "angels" in my life who are there and will continue to be there for and during my greatest and latest fight and feat to date.
Keep smilin' until we meet again,
Mary :-)
