October 31, 2024 – Day 100 of Recovery
Today marks a significant milestone: 100 days since my hip replacement surgery at Duke University Hospital on July 24th. This journey has been anything but straightforward. Between progress and setbacks, the lessons learned have reshaped how I see perseverance, patience, and the simple yet profound aspects of life.
Early Morning Realizations (8:00 – 12:00)
My Halloween morning started with pain—a familiar, unwelcome visitor that surfaced sharply in my hip and leg as I lay in bed. The simplicity of stretching or shifting in bed triggered flashes of discomfort, a vivid reminder of the fragility my body still holds. Memories surged, taking me back to mid-September, the early stages of recovery when intermittent stabbing pain dominated my days. Back then, the pain eventually subsided after 6 days, following a discharge of fluid from my unhealed incision. Now, the absence of such an outlet made the sensation more daunting, suggesting possible nerve pain and fluid buildup.
Resting in this fragile state, I embraced a quieter morning. My body demanded stillness, so I granted it that, allowing myself to float between light sleep and consciousness. Oddly, these moments brought interesting dreams and a soft reset.
The Struggle of Simple Tasks (12:00 – 4:00)
By noon, after battling through the pain to start my day, I managed a small yet frustrating task: making a cappuccino. The machine’s inconsistent extraction time—24 seconds, then 22, compared to yesterday’s perfect 35—felt like a metaphor for my week: unpredictable, testing, and just out of reach. Every step around my kitchen was a challenge, navigating on crutches and balancing on one leg while cleaning up was enough to underscore how every ounce of independence could be stripped away by pain.
Reaching the 1 PM physical therapy appointment required navigating back into the familiar grind—crutches, backpack, careful maneuvering into the van. The PT session itself was bittersweet. I rode a stationary bike for a brief five minutes and noted how, even though I could weight-bear slightly better afterward, the underlying pain remained. Nerve pain radiated persistently, and my therapist’s advice echoed: take it easy, avoid the hot tub, monitor any changes. Another reminder to reset my expectations, slow down, and step into acceptance.
Moments of Reflection (4:00 – 6:00)
As the sun began its descent, I reclined in my zero-gravity chair with Lokah nestled in my lap. Piano music played in my headphones as clouds drifted across the sky—a moment where external peace contrasted sharply with the internal throbbing of my leg. It felt as though I could feel my heartbeat pulsing as flashes of nerve pain. I found myself reflecting on the unpredictability of recovery, its moments of triumph now blurred by the sharp return of pain. Just days ago, I experienced newfound freedom: walking short distances unaided, carrying my lunch outside, cycling, driving hours in my van. Now, those freedoms had evaporated.
This unexpected regression called for acceptance—a practice of surrendering control and focusing on small joys like Lokah’s serene presence or the moving clouds. A whispered hope accompanied me: that this pain would dissolve as swiftly as it emerged.
Evening Resilience and Rediscovery (8:00 – Midnight)
The evening hours were dedicated to something comforting: writing. Despite the nerve pain, I settled into my workspace, aided by pain relief medication and natural supplements. For a few hours, I managed to tune out the discomfort and lose myself in documenting my journey, updating my blog, and catching up on entries I’d left behind over the past month.
I felt the essence of resilience as I typed. Working, even in pain, felt like reclaiming a part of myself that the past two days had tried to steal. This journaling, this recounting of my highs and lows, serves not just as an update but as a reminder that setbacks don’t erase progress. They are part of the fabric of recovery.
Final Thoughts
Day 100 stands as a testament to resilience. Despite setbacks that momentarily strip away freedom, it is the ability to adapt, find small joys, and keep moving forward—literally and figuratively—that defines this journey. The challenges are real, but so is the strength summoned with each day. And so, as I finish this post, I close with hope: hope that healing will continue, that tomorrow will hold less pain, and that I will carry these lessons far beyond this chapter.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you made it to the end, I would love to hear from you! 😍
Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu – May All Beings Be Happy and Free 🙏