best laid plans

I have been back in Boston for a week.

My father must have been kicking some bacterial ass, because after twelve days of IV antibiotics, tests showed conclusively that he was winning. The home care nurse came stopped by that evening and took out his PICC line, which is like a long-term IV. The living room was cleaned of its medical workstation and returned to its rightful status. Dad started braving the basement stairs to do laundry (of course I would have; he didn't tell me) and found my missing sock. And I started thinking it was time to go home.

I kept feeling that way. My parents were doing fine. Something in me was out of gas. I took a shuttle home last Saturday and was sick and coughing twelve hours later.

It's just a cold, but I'm grateful that I didn't get either of my parents sick. I'm still taking cough medicine.

More recent tests show that my father is continuing to kick the crap out of whatever was trying to kill him. He keeps getting stronger, through probably not fast enough for him. I finally had time for a haircut and am slowly starting to work on the mail piles and paperwork around the apartment. I've gotten on the stationary bike a few times, gently, and my hip seems to be tolerant, if not enthusiastic.

Being in DC was like boot camp for my hip. I hadn't walked so much since before surgery. I certainly hadn't climbed stairs every day. By the time I left, I could climb them one after the other instead of right leg, stop, right leg, stop.

It's a huge mental boost to be so much stronger. I can't imagine my surgeon won't clear me for physical therapy now. I still have to get the screws taken out (outpatient procedure, several weeks of mild soreness in the hip bone) and the psoas tendon issue will probably limit me in little ways for another couple of months, but I feel like I can see the road stretching ahead of me for the first time since I decided I had to see a doctor four years ago.

What a long, strange trip it's been.

30 weeks post-op.

I've learned a few things.

I've learned that if I wash my face consistently with a gentle sponge, every single day, I get smooth, radiant skin. I don't break out often -- I'm lucky like that -- but my skin looked so dull earlier this year and now it looks awesome. No chemicals, no expensive creams, just some glycerine soap and a sponge. I wore my usual minimal makeup to a hockey game last night and kept glancing in mirrors. Trust.

I've learned that if I don't back up my iPod consistently, every single day, I run the risk of scheduling appointments on top of each other. I had an oh-shit moment when I thought I'd scheduled physical therapy and the dentist at the same time, but I got lucky and only learned a lesson instead. Back it up.

I've learned that if I don't use my journal, it goes unused, and I miss it. I use my Twitter account (short little span of attention), but I'm far too chatty for 140 characters a pop. It's surprisingly fun, but it's not a journal. I mostly use it for sports talk, anyway, because I try to keep that off my journal. And complaining where companies can see their names and get back to me is pretty satisfying. It works.

I've learned that a long recovery is longer than I ever imagined, but that I keep getting better. I use a cane outside the house and nothing at home. I can walk with both hands full. I limp on the right side because the supporting muscles are still weak, but the joint doesn't hurt, which is amazing. Sometimes, especially when I'm tired, my hip aches around the break points and near the screws, which will be removed this summer. The bones will need a long time to heal completely. But mostly, my right hip is great.

My left hip is breaking down fast. Some days are better than others, but it's never good. I limp on my left side because it hurts. I'm sort of glad it hurts. This summer, I'm having a PAO on my left hip. I seriously do not want to do this again, but the fact that my left hip aches like a rotten tooth will help. This time next year, I should be walking around on two corrected hips.

I've learned that I like some hip-hop, and I'm trying to figure out why I like the songs I like so I can find more. Seatmate does not much like hip-hop and teases me gently about it. I've also learned that he hates trance, so I only play it when he's not around. What he hates about trance is what I love about it: it's the same thing over and over. I find it relaxing. "That's why they make Fords and Chevys," he says.

I'll leave you with a video combining two favorites: trance and skiing.

I was a terrible powder (deep lightweight snow) skier. I grew up in the east (US); I don't have much experience with powder. An instructor said I worked too hard and needed to let the skis run. I would deal with any conditions if I could just ski again. I miss it.

I'm learning that I can be happy without skiing, but I'm still working on that.