My 3 month hipaversary (and what that means)

~this is not a fun / silly post. It’s a post-op update. No pressure to continue reading.~

Three months ago, I was wheeled into the OR of one of the best hip orthopedics in the country, and I was petrified. My fear was well disguised with jokes, smiles and lucky shark socks. A week of unlucky complications, cursing at nurses and absolute hellishness ensued. Never again will I endure 9 days without a shower.

Two months ago, I was spending most of my days with my leg stuck in machines, staring at my childhood bedroom ceiling. They squeezed my calves to avoid blood clots, continuously moved my leg to probe the joint, and sent ice water around my hip to diminish swelling. My days were spent horizontally, or at physical therapy. My parents, brother and grandma spent 20 minutes per round, 4 rounds per day, rocking my leg in a circular motion, like a newborn that could wake and scream at any moment. I learned how to walk on crutches, how to shower by myself (with a chair), and when to suck it up and ask for help when putting on shoes.

One month ago, I got off crutches and immediately moved to New York City. The subway staircases were my Everest, PT was a necessary, daily evil, and walking more than a couple blocks was cause for great celebration. Sitting at my desk for too long was hard. Standing on the train was hard. Walking too far was hard. But every day it got just a little bit better. My surgical sites closed and became scars. Moments of pain-free walking brought joy, and I finally started to feel like surgery was worth it.

Today, I can walk without fear, pain meds, athletic tape or braces. I can hurry up the subway stairs with the rest of the 9 AM impatient commuters. I can focus on the better parts of my life, without lingering pain. There are still bad days, like with any major surgery. And now that I can walk a bit, I’ve rediscovered the fun of NYC bars (and my new favorite joint pain medicine, tequila!). I may never competitively ride again, I may never be much of a runner, and I’ll always have those surgical sites. But the process has taught me more about myself than I could’ve ever imagined. Regardless of what the future holds, be it a seamless recovery or another surgery on my other hip, I’m living by the sentiment of my tattoo: find the good in the bad.