It is now June 12th and I'm writing with my new hip. Everyone keeps asking me how I feel and whatnot, and honestly, I don't feel that I have a ceramic head and a plastic body inside. Amazing, isn't it? There is a dull pain, a feeling of heaviness and tightness when I begin to walk, almost like I'm dragging something, but what I used to feel before is not comparable. I suffered a lot and don't know how I actually survived more than 8 months of hip pain and almost 2 years of chronic joint pain (which is still with me). Though I suffered, I think about what my mother always tells me: God doesn't give us more than we can handle. God knows I can handle this shit, but no one likes to suffer. No one likes pain.
The surgery took place on June 1st in Mount Sinai Hospital of Queens. The night before, I got my nails and hair done, because of course, I had to look good going into surgery. The day of, I awoke at 4 am and arrived at the hospital by 6:30 am. By 9 am I was inside the operating room and on so much anesthesia, I don't recall anything after that. The procedure was complete by 12 pm. I felt a relief coming into the recovery room but it wasn't until much later in the evening when I received some bad news. After taking X-Rays of the new hip, the surgeon noticed there was a trial hip piece that was left behind. After sharing this news with me, I was in shock. I started crying, scream-crying. I couldn't understand why they would do such a thing, or why it would happen to me after going through so much - I was questioning everything and everyone. My parents quickly drove over to the hospital to sign an extra consent form for me to go back into the operating room to have the piece taken out. This is when my strength broke. I was so confident going into sugery, never did I imagine coming out frustrated. Nonetheless, the piece was taken out and the second time around, the replacement was a success.
I was in the hospital for 8 days - I was pretty much an Amish living in room 401 bed two. The room was tiny as fuck - literally no place to move around. I never turned on the TV. Never used the room phone. I was legit just there, sleeping and being a lazy ass. But doctors told me it was okay because apparently a hip replacement is a major surgery. Anyways, my days were consistently exciting because of all the people who came to visit - my friends and family. I would name names but it's almost impossible to do that. My room was a party room. Literally. I remember my first roommate who would always complain that there was 80 people on my side of the room. Yeah right. And she would complain to MY doctors. One of the hot doctors would come to me and say, "I hope you guys are able to resolve this issue among yourselves." My dad always said the other patient was jealous. She definitely was. I would overhear her conversations (of course she was Bengali). She had 6 children and I don't think any of them ever came to see her - she was just bitter all the time.
Anyways, so I had the worst apetite, as in no apetite, during my stay at the hospital. My relatives would bring food and I wouldn't eat - I'm missing the food now. But I remember the one night I had a craving for the crispy chicken burger from McDonald's. It was amazing.
I have a new hip, something that I never imagined I would need, but I pray that this hip will give me a new life. I'ved limped enough.