I had my CT scan a week ago, and we trundled back to hospital on Monday for the results and a plan of action. Except I didn’t get to see my lovely, laid-back surgeon; I got stuck with his boss – the one that I disliked on sight when he came to my bedside in hospital.
He didn’t show me the CT pictures and he didn’t acknowledge Dom at all. At one point, he abruptly left the room without a word, while I was halfway through answering a question!
He asked where I felt that the pain was coming from (screws or hip) – but I’m not sure how he expected me to be able to tell him because I’m not a surgeon. I told him “both”, because that’s the truth. He finally examined me, before doing what he was there to do in the first place – telling me the results of the CT and where we go from here.
The fracture hasn’t even begun to heal. It’s only because of the (loose) screws holding me together that I can walk at all. This guy says he wants to leave me like this for another six months, in case the fracture actually mends itself.
How about NO! I can’t go on with heavy doses of Cocodamol, the occasional spoonful of Oramorph and self medication with gin. I can’t go on screaming in pain at night. It’s distressing Dom as much as it’s distressing me, and that is simply not good enough.
I’m getting a second opinion in a couple of weeks, after calling my GP to tell her I wasn’t happy. She told me how to get hold of the surgeon’s secretary, so that I could request that I never see this man again – and I put in a complaint to PALS while I was at it.
The pain worsens by the day. I am not waiting six months to see if the fracture will heal. It ought to have mended by the end of June, and it hasn’t done – so why would it suddenly start to knit now? No, I need a hip replacement. I know my age is a concern, but people younger than me have hip replacements, and I don’t think I deserve to be left like this when I could have emergency surgery tomorrow.
To say that I detest people like this man would be being polite. I’m not going to risk being in a wheelchair for life, simply because he’s chosen to leave me as I am and risk the damage potentially getting worse. Why should I? Why should anybody?
I would love to get back to blogging fun things, but for now it’s best that other hip patients my age or younger can find me, and know that they’re not alone.