Last Chapter, part II (or Act Four.5)

Continuing from my previous post, July 2023 was a month full of hope after being discharged from the hospital and starting the Taletrectinib trial. I was immediately referred to an at-home physical therapy group that would visit twice a week to get my ass back in gear and regain the mobility of my right leg. But, boy was this NOT a walk-in-the-park (pun intended). 

Let's go fly a kite!

I pretty much had to learn to walk again and balance myself as best as possible during any activities involving my legs. Driving was out of the question. Going to the bathroom was no fun, and showering became my own Private Idaho. Eventually, I needed to redo my bathroom and install a walk-in shower, raised toilet, and bars (not the drinking kind, unfortunately). However, seeing this gave me a huge reality-check noting how I needed disability equipment in my home. Not that it's bad, but in a matter of months I saw myself go from a Happy-go-Lucky Adult to Disabled Senior, and this concept severely affected my self-esteem. My mood deteriorated rapidly, especially with the side effects of the Keppra (anti-seizure med) that only compounded the gremlins in my head. Yet, I kept the drudging on. Doing the PT routine as instructed and pushing myself in the hopes of a quick recovery. But then the grind got on me...

Slivered

An immense sharp pain began festering on my right hip accompanied by a weird "clicking" sound. Like a Psycho Woody Woodpecker, jabbing at my bone. Especially noted during the PT sessions, the therapist felt it was arthritis brought on by previous radiation treatment received back in 2016. He taught me stretches that helped relieve the pain slightly, but as we neared the end of the month the pain was too excruciating. I was popping Norco pills like tic-tacs in an effort to relieve the pain.

delicious rainbow drugs!

My Oncologist didn't feel this issue was due to the clinical trial. In fact, she was hoping Taletrectinib would help resolve it. But when the pain would not subside I was finally referred to an Orthopedic Oncologist, who amusing enough told me that my right hip was completely "fucked" (a technical term, apparently), and that I was in a dire need of a total hip arthroplasty. Better known as Hip Replacement.

Oh fuck, can't I get a break?

Mind you, this was late August. The scent of Purell & sickness was still permeating thru my mind from the previous hospital stay in June. And now I needed to be admitted again for hip surgery? I pushed back, saying this could bump me off the clinical trial. Would insurance even approve it? Was it even worth doing seeing everything that has happened the past two months? I mean, would you put brand new tires of a junker? Fuck...

Hmmm. I guess it could work out!

Plus, the added recovery time came into question (about 3 months). This would essentially null all of the PT work I did the previous 8 weeks. Pretty much starting over from square one. But, the Ortho-surgeon deemed this procedure as an emergency, noting that the head of my femur was fusing against my hip bone, which would eventually lead to a complete failure. 

This, but in my underoos

Things were moving fast. I needed to make a quick decision while weighing all the pros & cons in a relative short amount of time. By the end of this first visit they were already giving me surgery instructions, antibacterial body wash and a cute luffy where I had to scrub every crevasse. Once we got approval from the clinical trial people the surgery was scheduled one week later on September 1st, 2023 at UCI, where I would become the first bionic member of my family.

or Mexican Terminator

Boy, oh boy that was not fun. Aside from the hypodermic nerve blocker they used on my leg, I was also given an epidural to help mitigate surgery pain. Pretty much numbing the whole lower part of my body. I don't remember much after that, dozing off just as I was asking if I would ever recover the feeling in my Frank & Beans...

moist

Gratefully, I woke up a few hours later with a huge thick sponge between my legs to prevent them from criss-crossing each on other. That familiar paralyzed feeling was there, juxtaposed to the huge fucking pain in my right hip. I couldn't do much, aside from laying there enjoying the opiods and watching reruns of Shark Tank. Eventually, PT & OT folks started doing the rounds to make sure my body got some movement, even slightly. But that first day was excruciating. Barely making a few steps with the help of a walker and a belt around my belly to prevent me from falling.

It's not a Cadillac, but it ain't no Bug either

By Day 2, I started with my zen-training to will my feet/legs to move again, but now with much more restrictions since there were some requirements to keep excess movements very limited. But I kept at it, and by Day 4 I was able to sit solo, take a few small steps (with the walker), and drop kids in the pool.

Success! I was discharged that same day. Then the fun began.

Part lll soon...