‘I got a new hip at the age of 51 β and experienced pain like I’ve never known’
At 51, I took my body’s capabilities for granted. I ran for much of my 30s and 40s, but when depleted hormones sapped my energy, I turned to walking, Hiit sessions, weights and yoga.
I felt the occasional twinge, but nothing worrisome, until a twinge became an ache that turned into a searing, stop-in-your-track pain through my lower back, groin, and knee in the spring of 2023. No specific starting event, just a body saying, no. My doctor suspected sciatica and referred me to a physiotherapist, who prescribed exercises that I could do for eight weeks. A month later I could no longer walk or even sit in some positions. Sleeping was impossible. My dog, accustomed to hours of cross-country japes together, looked anxiously at my shuffling, groaning doppelgΓ€nger. An osteopath recommended an MRI scan and x-ray. These revealed severe, widespread cartilage tears and cysts in my right hip: a diagnosis of osteoarthritis.
Back at the GP I was referred to an NHS hip specialist. Four more painful weeks passed before the appointment. I was offered a steroid injection as I was at least ten years too young for a hip replacement, but this would only provide partial, temporary relief. I was also genetically unlucky: a shallow hip joint worsened the wear and tear. A second and third opinion said that only a hip replacement would solve the problem.
Relieved to have answers and access to private healthcare, I booked full hip replacement surgery for November 1. I was told to consider how accessible my bed and bathroom would be after surgery. My husband installed toilet raisers and handrails and made plans to work from home as much as possible. We joked about my hospital booklet with 75-year-olds on the cover: I was 25 years younger than the average patient. But I didn’t mind because I was counting down the days until I would be in workout leggings again. The consultant said the joint could last 20 years, and there was nothing to stop me from running again.
I woke up from surgery to find that I had been given a general anesthetic. The surgical team explained that I had complained when the banging and crashing started. The first twelve hours after the operation I waited for the feeling to return to my legs. Then that happened and I was in pain like I’ve never known. On the other hand, I had a very small, neat wound, which I had no problems with at all. Within another twelve hours, I was encouraged to get up and walk down the hall, to reduce the stiffness and swelling around my new hip. My blood pressure, which was always very low, was even lower after the general anesthesia and I could not get up without fainting. On day two I tried again, with two walking sticks. I could move, but I couldn’t erase the cracking, grinding feeling in my new joint. Nevertheless, I walked up and down the steps of the hospital and was duly discharged. The 15-minute car ride home was unspeakable agony.
For the next two weeks, I had to take painkillers every four hours to feel comfortable enough to take gentle walks and do modest physio exercises aimed at reducing stiffness and swelling. The swelling was so great that I had a Kardashian model thigh and butt on the right side, in strange contrast to the usual one on the left. To sleep, I had to lie on my back, supported by pillows, for six weeks to minimize the risk of dislocating my new joint. The nights were very bad. There were many tears.
Then progress slowly came: my walks became a bit longer, from 10 to 20 minutes. I wasn’t anywhere near the park yet, but I figured out how to put on my own socks using a rolled up magazine. The physio exercises became easier. The swelling decreased. The pain didn’t go away, but I was able to sleep for an hour here and there between sunset and sunrise. Around week three I realized I didn’t need painkillers for a day. After five and a half weeks I took off the surgical socks, and it finally drove me crazy. That same day I risked sleeping on my non-operated side, with a pillow between my legs. I got three hours and it felt like three days.
After six weeks I was able to walk for almost an hour, use a cross trainer for short periods and do lunges and squats. I could walk unaided, although slowly, but felt vulnerable on wet and icy sidewalks. I got tired quickly. I still have back, groin and knee pain. My advisor says it may take a while before this goes away. I try to focus on the fact that at least I have prospects now.
On Christmas Day, I went on an hour-long cross-country walk with my family. At 10 weeks I slept five hours straight.
After three months, my physiotherapist said it was time to practice jumping β on the spot, from side to side, forward and backward. I expected pain that didn’t come. Next time we’ll hop, and the time after that we’ll put them together. Hop plus jump equals running. I can’t quite believe it.