ESSAY BY HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT
What
I kept pushing out of my consciousness was the reality that the hips weren’t
going to last forever.
Because even though I use a wheelchair most of the time
and only walk short distances, the man-made appliances that had been driven with
surgical power tools into the shafts of my femurs before I was old enough to
drive were not made to last forever.
I
made an appointment with my orthopod, Dr. J., and hoped upon hope it would
proceed as usual.
Which is to say, twice a year I would go to his office, and
have X-rays taken of my hips.
He would say the same thing each time: that the
prostheses had, over time, moved a bit out of their original positions – not
uncommon for these types of old style implants.
Yet as long as I was
functioning without pain, I could go along my merry way and return in six
months.
RECOVERY ESSAY CONTINUES TOMORROW -- FEBRUARY 4
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