Today, I saw the surgeon to see if he would provide the hip replacement treatment I desperately need. JT accompanied me for the appointment. More than anyone else, he has seen the ways in which I’ve been increasingly disabled by my hip. A 23 year old being the up-close witness to my pain and sadness in the last three months is not an easy journey. He has been an absolute rock for me and it’s not an exaggeration to write that I wouldn’t have gotten here without him. He’s not the only person in my support network - far from it - and I am incredibly lucky on that front. But he has had to rescue me from myself over and over again since the pain became unbearable in August. As my mobility has faltered, he has filled the gap.
We came to today's appointment a united bundle of nerves, arriving early, tense with anxiety and each of us with an eczema breakout. I was convinced that the surgeon would move the goal post for surgery, demanding that I lose even more weight (I've lost 30 pounds in just under 3 months). But we needn’t have worried. From the outset, the Physician’s Assistant was clear: you’re getting the hip. The surgeon popped in and asked for more x-rays and within the half hour I had my pre-surgery packet and a promise that the scheduler would be in touch within the week. There is a wait list but surgery will happen toward the end of January.
I am incredibly grateful to arrive at this point. I couldn’t have gotten here without JT, my sister, the pain management doctor I was lucky enough to find, and so many of my friends who cheered me on when I felt like my prospects were bleak. At supper last night, JT poured us each a finger of bourbon and we drank a cheer to my new hip. I thanked him for all he has done to get me here; he reminded me that I had been by his side in 2022, when things were hard for him. We’re a team, he said. Tonight, we’re a team that feels both grateful and unstoppable.
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