best laid plans

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.

I used to have a friend who made fun of the music I loved, from Jackson Browne to Chris Whitley to Leon Russell. I felt sorry for her. She missed out on tons of classic music, songs that would stand the test of time and be passed from generation to generation.

I don't remember not loving Jackson Browne. His square jaw, gentle face, and straight dark hair formed my ideal image of a man from childhood. His music has always been part of the soundtrack to my life, including songs he wrote for other musicians, like "Take it Easy" (with Glen Frey).

I woke up this morning humming his poppy 1982 hit "Somebody's Baby," but it's his lesser-known "Fountain of Sorrow" playing now, from his wonderful 1974 album Late for the Sky. His clear voice still gives me chills.

Song for a cold, gray winter day:

Post-op day 78 / week 11.

I always seem to have an active mind when I should be sleeping. I compose journal entries in my head as I lie awake, and when morning comes, the blinking cursor laughs at me.

Today is eleven weeks since my surgery. I am so tired of my hips, my crutches, my walker. My next appointment is on November 16, at thirteen weeks and change. If they say I can't start 100% weight bearing, I might cry. I'd still be using crutches, or maybe one crutch, for a while, but I'd be walking.

Being in a wheelchair has been an interesting experience. After all these weeks in my heavy clunker, I find myself looking enviously at ultra-lightweight chairs with bright frames. I have to remind myself that my wheelchair time is temporary and that I should be looking enviously at people with functional hips.

I had no idea that so many people will go out of their way to take elevators instead of escalators. The arena where the Bruins play (aka "the Garden") has big banks of escalators to different levels. The elevator is a long walk from security, but every game night, there's a line. When the elevator finally arrives, the ambulatory people crowd into the elevator ahead of the wheelchairs. Get your able-bodied ass out of my elevator. Do I look like I can take the stairs?

When we get to our section, we have to ask everyone who beat us there to let me in the row. They seem to think they can stand up and flatten themselves against the seats and I can get by on my crutches. Newsflash: the six inches of floor space between your body and the seats in front isn't enough room. Stop grumbling and clear out. Unlike most of you, I will never ask you to get up during the game.

Then there are doors. For some unfathomable reason, the elevator lobby next to the handicap parking at the Garden has heavy steel doors that always threaten to snap something off my chair (I've already lost a rubber cap off a brake lever). One of the elevators in our building has old-fashioned doors you have to open yourself. When I'm healthy, I have to throw my weight against the doors to get them to move. With a bum hip, it's not gonna happen.

So yeah, I'm a little ranty. But the sun is out and the Bruins are playing tonight and Alicia Sacramone won gold on vault at the world championships last week (oh boy, I could write a whole piece about Worlds this year) and the world is (mostly) just awesome.

I had an MRI on my right hip on Wednesday. My past two MRIs have scanned both hips; this was the last MRI before surgery. Pardon me while I panic.

As usual, my stupid veins made the injection of contrast dye difficult. By difficult, I mean it took three people and four injection sites. At one point, a vein simply spit out the needle, which then leaked dye into my arm before it was removed. That was when I learned that contrast dye burns like hell, and keeps burning for a while. "I've never seen veins like yours," a nurse confessed, and the others agreed. It was suggested that I get a custom t-shirt: "You've never seen veins like mine!" There were also comments about how calm I was. What exactly was my alternative?

Finally, a supervisor type nailed a vein and got the contrast in. He also got my House of God joke, so I liked him a lot. (Seriously funny book. I am constantly startled by the number of doctors I meet who have never read it.) The guy had just come from wrangling a hysterical two-year-old, so anything was a happy change of pace for him.

I walked in circles around the waiting room for ten minutes to get the dye distributed throughout my body. I found myself wondering how the dye gets distributed in a little kid. Seatmate suggested they just pick them up and shake them. I'm sure it's tempting sometimes.

I always feel sorry for people who are claustrophobic. They slide me into the MRI tube and I'm asleep in two minutes.

They took x-rays after, putting me in some strange and uncomfortable positions. I was limping pretty badly by the time I put my own clothes back on. I filled out a form to get my x-ray images sent to me, so I'll have some cool pictures to post soon. I grabbed a nap when I got home, then put bags of frozen peas on both hands and watched the Chicago Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup. I might have cried if the Flyers had won. I've never seen a team so dedicated to injuring its opponents.

Via savvyfan, check out this montage of playoff highlights from CBC. Boston's Marc Savard scores an overtime goal at 2:09 and goes completely nuts after, which makes me laugh every time.

I have physical therapy this afternoon. Then Philly's 70-year-old starting pitcher Jamie Moyer goes against our sadly hapless John Lackey tonight at Fenway Park. I love the Red Sox, but man, I miss hockey. Switching from hockey to baseball is like stepping off a moving walkway.

We still haven't named the cat.

Edited: I had physical therapy this afternoon. Migraine moved in like a storm and I've been, uh, sick. I'm so tired of this.

The Bruins lost last night.

It's one thing to play well and lose. It's something else entirely to play badly and lose. Seatmate and I were so angry we couldn't speak. Every single Bruin (except Mark Stuart) deserves to be slapped with a fish.

Manny Being Manny has been busted for two positive tests for a banned drug and suspended for fifty games. The Powers That Be have said it's not a steroid or human growth hormone. So what is it? Inquiring minds want to know. [Edit: it's hCG, a drug allegedly used to cycle off steroids.] Oh, Manny. I still wear your jersey.

On a more cheerful note, this picture made me laugh until I couldn't breathe. Text is NSFW (profanity).

YouTubery: Telus commercial hilarity with dancing macaws. O Canada.

1. I'm 39 today. How did that happen?

2. Six weeks ago, I told my hairstylist that I was happy with the below-shoulder length of my hair. Three weeks ago, I ran out of patience and made an appointment to cut it back to a shoulder-brushing bob. I don't know how I managed for so many years with hair halfway down my back.

3. I bought a purple linen sleeveless shirt for Passover. I haven't worn purple since the purple jeans I had in seventh grade.

4. The first part of Arcade Fire's "Wake Up" sounds like U2 to me. I hear the (opening of the) song at every Bruins game and until recently, I thought it was U2.

5. Sleeping on a featherbed is wonderful. Lounging around on a featherbed is not. As my weight slowly compresses the down, anything loose starts sliding toward me as it pulled by gravity.

6. I need to write an entry about the State of the Hips. Walking much further than my kitchen has become difficult and tiring. Many women (hip dysplasia patients are disproportionately female) schedule a surgery date during the first consult with the doctor. My first consult was over three months ago (seven if you count the first surgeon I met) and we have no date in sight. My surgeon is wary of complications from my EDS and is gathering intel before planning battle. I don't mind his caution; I'm glad that he's so careful. "You're not like everybody else," he said at a recent meeting. I know. It sucks.

7. Seatmate came up with the idea of making milkshakes out of lactose-free milk and lactose-free ice cream. I'm so psyched. I really want a shake.

8. Seatmate gave me two books for my birthday: Schuyler's Monster by Rob Rummel-Hudson, whose online journal I have been reading since 1999 or so, and The Daily Coyote by Shreve Stockton, the story of raising an orphaned coyote pup in Wyoming. Both have blogs worth reading: Rob's Fighting Monsters with Rubber Swords and Shreve's The Daily Coyote.

9. My parents sent an enormous and awesome basket of fruit arranged to look like flowers. I hated to dismantle it, but it wouldn't fit into the fridge.

10. YouTubery: woman climbs up crowded down escalator after a Bruins game. Awesome.

We're both still sick. We're not going to the game. Woe.

We sold the tickets to a Bruins fan we know. He's pumped. I hope he yells his head off. With so many players out with injury and illness, including one guy recently diagnosed with mono, the team needs all the support it can get. To be fair, the Canadiens are also missing some players, including the goalie we abused the last time they were in Boston, so it's one depleted club against another. I hope our minor-league call-ups are better than their minor-league call-ups.

I plan to spend the evening wrapped in an NHL blanket and enjoying my last Bruins game on regular television. Comcast is coming to hook up my high-definition TV on Thursday, so Thursday night's Bruins-Isles game will be bright and beautiful. How will I leave the house with Animal Planet and Discovery in HD?

Random YouTubery: the lovely Dorina Boczogo on beam at the Beijing Olympics. Her one-armed handstand is a classic.