Today is New Year’s Eve and we are about to get rid of the mind blowing and crushing year dated 2020. Last year on this day, I was busy detoxing Naproxen from my system in order to prepare for my hip replacement. I was in a lot of arthritic pain as my friends partied and welcomed the 20’s of the 2000’s but I stayed home, forcing my will to quiet the fear of my upcoming surgery. I have stated what occurred from the day of the surgery up to the California state mandated Shelter In Place on March 17th due to the Corona Virus. I was supposed to return to working part time on March 18th but obviously that didn’t happen. I refrained from blogging because the fear and depression of being at home by myself had set in and I feared my blog would turn into a bummer of sorts.

This year for all, has been a curse and hopefully somewhat a blessing. The curse, besides massive sickness and death, has been the multiple shut-downs of hair salons and the negative impact on my business along with long periods of isolation from my family and friends. The blessing was time off that allowed me to heal and return to work without crutches or a walker plus a lot of personal reflection. The generosity of clients who never missed a beat in reaching out to me with donations, desires of home color kits, online virtual haircut tutorials and some serious HairDash throughout the shutdowns, kept my spirits and bank account afloat.

To be removed, by state mandate, from my highly sanitized studio to garages and backyards to perform hair services was less than ideal. The silver lining was the meeting up of clients, it was soul lifting and I’m so grateful for it. All of those dark days of being alone were wiped out with greetings and humorous tales exchanged along with toilet paper being tossed into my house as clients picked up color kits. The state mandated guidelines of sanitation were hardly an issue because we are trained in sanitation for 1600 hours, but the one client-one stylist guideline, financially impacted all of us in the industry. I’m so grateful for the clients that stuck with me and for the ones that were fearful or compromised to come in, I love and miss you and can’t wait to see you in the future. Be prepared for uncomfortably long hugs, it’s going to get weird!

I called my brother in May and asked if I could come over to his house fully masked and sit outside to just say hello. My real agenda was to, of course see him and my brother-in-law but really to see his dog Tucker. I love this dog, he is the most handsome and kind dog I’ve ever known. I petted him for so long, that after about an hour he gave out a deep sigh, possibly saying “that’s enough” but he lifted my spirits and I’m so grateful for his unconditional love.

We finally were given the green light to go back to our salons on June 29th with many regulations and guidelines. All of a sudden I became a doctor and nurse doing temperature checks and asking FBI like questions to the activities of my clients only to be closed down again 14 days later for an additional two more months. The state of California did grant us the ability to do hair outside during 100º fire and smoke filled days on a tiny piece of sidewalk that we had to erect and break down makeshift salons daily. No thank you, I’ll keep doing the Hairdash. Finally on September 1st, we were allowed to go back inside to our clean and sanitized salons. We had a good run until December 8, 2020. Due to humans tiring of SIP and not seeing loved ones, all caution has gone out the door and everyone is traveling and gathering. Covid numbers spike, hospital capacity maxes out and we are closed down again. I could rant and rave about how hair salons are at 0.14% of spread and that we have perfect contact tracing through scheduled appointment but its no use. In order to save my sanity and preserve my gratitude, I have had to accept that government officials will not listen to my industry or follow the data as long as people selfishly do what they want. I will continue to be grateful to the clients that allow me into their garages and backyards no matter what the temperature is and my industry will come back to the greatness that it was.

During all of this, many more black men and women were accosted and killed by police in unlawful prejudicial manners. The overwhelming fury of many U.S. citizens and people around the world, caused public outrage and protesting of epic proportions. It thrilled me to see hundreds of humans marching down my Main Street chanting “No Peace, No Justice”. Friends and family are so impacted by these racial slayings and it’s heart wrenching to see and experience. Can we please be better? Please????.

In November, four days after the presidential primary vote, Joe Biden became President-Elect along with the first African/Asian American ball buster home town girl Kamala Harris as Vice President Elect. HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!!!! We finally removed hateful, narcissistic, and supremacist leaders from the USA and traded them out for compassionate and inclusive leaders in a time that anger and hate rule our land. I am so grateful for this pendulum swing. I look forward to the day where our environment can breath, science can lead and all Americans are looked after. I do look forward to the next four years but I don’t kid myself, in that it will be some of the hardest years for our leaders and citizens. However, at least love and compassion will be the future and I will pray for unity among us.

On a different note, with a great deal of consideration, five years worth, I decided to go to school. I started Cosmetology school as a senior in High School, and besides some random language classes in Italian and Spanish and an occasional psychology course, I had zero credits in college. In September I enrolled in our county community college to begin my credit fulfillment for general education in order to transfer to a state college to obtain a degree in Psychology. OH MY GOD!!! Am I crazy? At 51 years old, I’m going to go to college? The answer is yes. I started with one class, Communications-Public Speaking. This should be an easy A for me…as my nephew stated followed by “you speak all day…” My feelings on his comments emitted a smirk but to both our surprise this class tried to kick my ass. Not only did I have to learn the art of skillfully mastering the art of speech, but I also became an IT master of recording, YouTube, iMovie, Powerpoint and Google Drive. I’m a Mac kinda gal, and using office and google docs seemed overwhelming. In the end, with the help of my super talented professor, Gina Stahl-Haven, I mastered this class. I earned 100% on my final and was asked if my final speech could be archived as an example for future public speaking classes. Needless to say, I was pleased. Next semester I will be taking a statistics class, (help me baby Jesus) and a Psychology Personalities class. I’m in for the journey, no matter how challenging, I’ve got this. We all can do anything we set our minds towards.

In this new year we will get our vaccines, work and hopefully gather with our loved ones again. I wish you all a healthy, prosperous and extra long hugging capacity 2021.

I have been at home for 37 days since getting out of the convalescent/rehab. Once the pain subsided in my leg, I was left with a daily routine that the word boredom could not possibly define. My daily routine consists of waking up, hopping into the bathroom on my trusty walker, showering, skin/hair care, getting coffee and my Ensure drink, taking Tylenol and weening off Morphine and then sitting in my chair for 10 hours. Occasionally getting up to use the restroom, get a snack or do laundry. On the days when friends, family and clients come to visit it is great. It breaks up the day with laughter and outings around downtown, them pushing me uphill in my wheelchair while I try to assist in rolling. It’s wonderful how many people have come to see me, feed and call/text me. No matter how grateful I am for all of it, and I am so very grateful, there is such a loneliness that sets in when you can’t fend for yourself and are pretty much housebound. It took me three weeks to figure out how to get out of my building because the doors were so heavy but I finally did it last week. My arms are much stronger so wheeling around in my building is much easier now.

I have been gifted books both literature as well as coloring books-pictures and profanity ones, origami books, countless coloring pens and pencils, string lights and hair scrunchies to name a few. I’ve been to the salon, with assistance to satisfy my OCD and put things back to “where they belong” and unpack boxes. Really my friends and family unpack and put away everything while I sit in my four tire throne and tell them what to do. I have been to San Rafael Joe’s more times in the past month then I think in my entire life and then I go back home to sit.

So with all of the sitting I have turned to TV. Now normally television and I have a love/hate relationship. It’s usually background noise that I listen to while I do tasks around the house, salon books or play a game on my phone after work. I usually will listen to pretty shallow stuff that I don’t really need to pay attention to like most of the Real Housewives of Whatever City. I can only play an app game for so long before I’m disinterested in it so now I have to find content that will hold my attention. Let’s review the absolute mindless crap that’s on TV, that held my-she’s down the rabbit hole- attention.

EXTREME COUPONING: This show follows, mostly stay at home mom’s, trying to spend as little on groceries as they possibly can. For instance, Amanda and Jess are BFF’s that love dumpster diving in the recycle bin for as many coupons as they can get. They are extreme coupon champions. Their goal is to get most items for $0 or they set a limit of maybe $10-$12 for an entire shopping trip. The register may say that they owe $1200 but by the time they have handed over all their coupons, in maybe 50 transactions depending on the store policy, they come away with a 99% savings. They fill all of their shelving units with 300 toothpaste, 400 Totino’s frozen pizza, 230 disposable razors and of course 63 bottles of mustard. Did you know that unopened mustard never spoils? Me neither. The couponers get real nervous towards the final bill, always telling the checker that has been ringing their loot for 4-5 hours that they only have $20 on them so it better not go over that amount. If I was the checker that was helping them, I would quit, but that’s just me. Another episode was of a woman named Zadia who would drag her teenage daughter with her on her epic 6 hour grocery shopping extravaganza. This daughter was very displeased because she was forced to be away from the internet for too long. Zadia’s goal was to get 100% of groceries for free. She would donate a lot of snack items to the the JV football and volleyball teams which was nice. She succeeded in her goal of everything free but had to find an item for $1.58 exactly because she was owed that much by the store from all of her coupons and the store’s policy was not to give YOU money for groceries. It took one hour to find an item for exactly $1.58. Hey Zadia, have you ever seen the show Extreme Hoarders? No? You should watch it, I think it would inspire you on your next trip to the Piggly Wiggly.

LOVE IS BLIND: From a strong suggestion through my friend Scott, basically forcing me to watch this show I tuned in to this beauty on Netflix. The premise of this show explained by Nick Lachey and his head ticking wife Vanessa, is “Is Love Really Blind?” “How do we know?” What if 12 women and 12 men, separated by a thin wall in a “pod” could have conversations, really really deep conversations (insert a long eye roll) and then at the end of three dates/conversations they have to decide whether they want to get married. I can’t make this up. Six of these couples decide that they found their soulmates and pop the question, through the wall. Then the females get dressed up in their most skanky clothes to meet their fiancé for the first time face to face. They all like what they see except for Jessica, more on her later. The six couples go off to a pre-honeymoon in Cancun for a few days to see if they are sexually compatible, except for the ones that hold off having sex (Jessica) and then they come back to Atlanta where they all live. They are required to live in an apartment building (each couple in their own apartment) on the weekends together for the next three weeks while they plan their weddings, meet each others friends and family and shop for wedding attire. Apparently, coexisting outside of the pod is not as easy as they thought it would be and a lot of fighting ensues. I felt like that could be a slight possibility but who am I not to believe in this ridiculous “experiment”? Jessica doesn’t care for the ten year age gap between her and Mark, she being the elder, nor does she care for Marks face or body. But rest assured, even though she is lusting after one of the other contestants that didn’t pick her she still states that Mark is her soulmate who she strings along so she can stay on the show and be near the object of her affection. Whenever she sees hunky Barnett, she gets bombed on Vodka, speaks in a baby voice and tries to get Barnett to say he’s not into skanky and wildly promiscuous Amber. This show is a delightful study of how much attention people need. As the days go by and the wedding day gets closer, true colors are shown and doubts start to surface. Finally the wedding(s) day arrives, everyone gets beautified and gussied up to walk down the aisle. Side note, as a hairstylist, the wedding do’s are god awful and come to think of it, the hair on the show is generally horrendous. The officiant, parents, siblings and friends are all in attendance and when they get to the part of “…do you take this man/woman…” is when the bride/groom to be, decides and states whether they will or won’t go through with it. Out of the 5 couples that made it to the alter, one couple didn’t make it past Cancun due to his love of both sexes that he never disclosed in his honest pod sessions, it was pretty clear who would say I do and who wouldn’t. Please do not misunderstand my sarcasm, I was completely invested in this show and had to see it through. Tomorrow the reunion episode will air and I had to set a reminder to watch it. God help me.

MY FEET ARE KILLING ME: I’m pretty sure any show found on TLC is of an extreme nature and usually super gross. This footy show, focuses on deformities, diseases and syndromes that you never knew existed for unfortunate patients that show up for the two Podiatrist that are featured. From completely fungal toenails that are curling over the tops of toes to a lady with 6 toes on each foot, they run the gamut of painful yet disgusting disorders that need to be fixed. What I find the most disgusting is when the doc might have to take a dremel grinding tool or 6″ nail clippers to the affected nails and never wears a mask or protective eye wear. There is literally nail chunks and fungus dust flying all over and the doctors face is just as close as it can be to the nastiness. I do feel for these people but it grosses me out so much that one episode was enough for me.

Thankfully tomorrow I have an appointment with the friendly surgeon where I will take X-rays and find out if my bones are healed. If they are, I will start PT and get on with my life. If not I will have to find happiness in these four walls for a few more weeks. Non diseased fingers and toes crossed!

On January 26th I was released from rehab. I was able to escape for 6 hours the day before to attend my friends memorial two blocks away from my house. It was a bittersweet day seeing old friends to celebrate Scott’s life and also for me, passing by my home and not being able to go in. I knew it was less than 24 hours until I was home for good, so I could deal with it. On the morning of freedom, I awoke from a blissful sleep to a blood curdling scream emitted by Waxy because the aides turned her slightly and then she resumed speaking in a normal voice! I popped out of my bed as fast as I could, hopped with my walker to the closet and pulled out my suitcase. I pushed and hopped until I made it to the bed whilst singing “I’m going home, I’m going home…” It was my own song that I sang pretty loudly but Waxy couldn’t hear it. I packed up my stuff, had my little bed bath, brushed my hair, put on my makeup, refused my disgusting breakfast, took my pain meds and then realized I had 3 hours to wait until my brother-in-law would arrive to pick me up. Oh…

Chris arrived at 10:30 am and even though I had told the nervous wreck of a nurse that I needed my discharge papers by 10 am she lagged behind and I didn’t leave until 11:30 am. One of the aides rolled me down to the driveway while Chris went to get the car but when we got outside the driveway was blocked by an ambulance and a fire engine. She wheeled me down to the street where it was raining and the street has a very steep decline and is a one-way road where cars fly down. The aid could only roll me to behind the car because of the traffic and then I had to hop with my walker to the front passenger door. My walker was slipping on the wet street which made me nervous and the cars were very close by, it was a bit nerve wracking and challenging to say the least. Every time I had practiced a car transfer, it was on the level surface of the driveway not on a downhill slope. When I got into the car, I kept sliding forward on the seat because of the slope and I accidentally turned my left foot inward to get it into the car. I felt a very sharp pain in my femur that took my breath away. The pain went away pretty quickly but it did make me pretty nervous. I got all settled in and we took off screaming “Free at Last, Free at Last…!” I said to my brother-in-law that we were like Thelma and Louise and then I horribly photoshopped (on purpose) a pic of us fleeing.

We got back to Marin and stopped off for some food to bring to my house which took about 30 min, so basically I was in the car for almost an hour. When I got out of the car at my house, the sharpest, most searing pain went through my femur and every hop towards the elevator was very painful. I kept thinking that it would go away. I made it to my apartment and sat down. I was so excited to be home and I wanted to put things away and test that I could get in and out of my bed. I could with some serious muscle strength and then I finally rested. I took some Advil and more morphine and decided that rest would make the pain go away. The next day the pain was much worse and I couldn’t even hop with my walker. I was scared.

After calling the surgeon to explain what was happening, and him telling me that it sounded like I broke my femur from turning my foot inward by getting into the car, renting a wheelchair from a place in town, and having my friend pick it up, roll me to my car and drive me to radiology; I sat awaiting the results of the X-ray. I knew from the conversation with the surgeon earlier, that if the femur was broken I would be back in surgery removing the implant, putting in a new implant and a plate over the entire length of my femur and then basically wires and nuts and bolts on the outside of my upper leg for 3 months. I was so freaked out I was shaking. The radiologist came out and yelled “Yah-vette Day-Kah-tuh?” I turned towards her when she told me that it wasn’t broken, the implant had not moved and I could go home. Unfortunately for the radiologist, there was a chair in between us, because I grabbed her hands and nearly pulled her over the chair trying to hug her as I was crying. The entire waiting room applauded because they saw my friend saying The Rosary, my other friend nervously shouting “Your fine, its a muscle” about 30 times and me just crying as we waited. We were quite the group. So we left, still in a lot of pain but relieved.

As the week progressed the pain seemed to increase. The surgeon scheduled a CT Scan the next Monday which came back showing no break but a bit of fluid on the side of my femur. The sharp pain was now accompanied by horrendous cramping of my entire upper leg lasting from a minute to five minutes several times per day. I also couldn’t bend my knee or raise my leg up any longer. The surgeon and endocrinologist had put me on a drug called Forteo to try to help my bones heal faster. I looked up the side effects of Forteo and one of the uncommon side effects was muscle cramping. I instantly stopped it and sent a message to the endocrinologist stating that I stopped and why. I finally called my general doctor about three days after the CT Scan and said I couldn’t take the pain anymore. I stated I was scared that there could be an infection or a blood clot and that I didn’t know how to get the surgeon to look more closely. My surgeon was now at a conference so if I tried to email him, the email would bounce back with an out of office reply. My GP got me in for X-rays, blood test and a sonogram the next day and an appointment with an Orthopedic Surgeon as well.

That day they X-rayed every part of my left leg at every angle, gave me a blood test and a sonogram. When I saw the doctor he said he thought I had an occult fracture in my femur. This basically means they can’t see the fracture but believe its there. The reason it is unseen is because the titanium rod that is now in my femur is what is seen in the image and blocks the X-ray of bone behind or in front of the rod. The surgeon believed that the fracture was in that region and that most likely it was another hairline fracture which was good and bad news. The good news is that the new hip had not moved at all and was still securely in place. The bad news was that now I was not allowed to put any weight on my leg whatsoever for another 2-4 weeks and possibly 6 weeks. He said there was no infection YET (don’t ask) and no blood clot. He said the pain should go away in a few days, take the morphine and ride it out. I felt relieved to have an answer but devastated that the recovery would be so much longer and mostly in a wheelchair. I had to stop physical therapy which meant all the progress I had made with my muscles would just go away and I would have to start over.

I felt helpless and broken figuratively and literally.

On the fourth day of rehab my therapist said to me…I had two therapist, Physical and Occupational and when I first met them they said my chart said no restrictions. This was incorrect due to the 40 lb. maximum weight capacity on my left leg and restrictions on bending forward or lifting the upper leg higher than 90°. So we went over this, making sure that it was written down for all to see. After a 2011 rehab disaster, I wanted everyone on the same page. Basically they started me off on hopping 10 feet on a walker on my good leg and doing a hand pedal bike for 15 min. It was incredible how, that little of movement was throughly exhausting to me.

Within that first week I learned how to get out of bed with a leg assist device that looks like a leash attached to a dog except the dog is missing. That was a celebration of epic proportion because it equaled a bit of freedom from having to wait for anyone to help me up and I could also use the bathroom on my own. In that first week I did a lot of occupational therapy on learning how to get up and down from a toilet, chair and to get on a shower bench only using one leg. I took for granted how easy these daily necessities were, but when you are limited in mobility and strength you really have to slow down, think about what you are doing and then very carefully execute each movement. My progress in a week was quite impressive to the therapist as well as the nurses on my floor. It gave my mood a boost even though I was stuck in this mental institution, because I knew it was just a matter of time before I would be at home. My brother was concerned about me going home too soon due to living alone and the weight restriction for 6 weeks. I agreed to split the difference of three weeks in the hospital/rehab and three weeks at home.

My rehab was always in the morning which resulted in a lot of downtime in the afternoon. At first the downtime was great due to how tired I would get but after of few days of getting my strength back I was super bored in the afternoon. This is when I discovered group crafts, karaoke and bingo! Most people that know me well, know that I am a fierce bingo competitor.

The way you are competitive at Bingo is, when you are super close to winning blackout bingo, and I mean one number away, and some 90 year old raises their frail 2 lb. arm in the air and whispers in a super exhausted voice…bingo, you lose your shit! Maybe you flip your card over and wheel away in your while angrily shaking your head or maybe you clear your board quietly but vow to steal the winners dessert when they fall asleep eating dinner. It could be a multitude of insane thoughts, but usually one pops up and its never a good. Karaoke was not really a group participation activity. It was mostly the Filipino staff, and if you have any Filipino friends you know the stereotype holds true on how much they love Karaoke, singing super loud all of the songs they wanted to sing and clapping off beat while everyone sat dazed and mouth agape in their wheelchairs. I enjoyed watching this and giggled during the hour long “sing-a-long.” Another activity was nail painting and a movie (no popcorn) which I attended with a friend visiting me. I ended up painting my own nails due to high demand of the unlicensed manicurist but I did have a patient ask when I would be ready to do his manicure.

During my downtime or when nobody was visiting, I would listen to the patients gossip about one another or the men talk about their sexual conquests in their youth. That was a lip curling listening experience, especially when they would pause to get some creamer/sugar for the watered down decaffeinated excuse for coffee, in their open hospital gowns and I would get an eyeful of old man but crack and saggy balls. My eyes will never unsee those images and even though I knew it was going to happen every day, the morphine made my reflexes a bit slower and I would always turn away just a bit to late. I’m going to need therapy for these memories. Every other day my friend would Postmate me a large latte and bagel sandwich that made the delivery guys always look so confused when dropping it off to me. On one of the delivery mornings, a nurse; who was a drag queen performer by night (I saw pics) called me a “Bougie Marin Bitch” in which I retorted “Girl, don’t be jealous. It’s an ugly color on you.”

I live in Marin County, California and with all the old wealthy people that live here, there were no beds available in a rehab/convalescent hospital or what the call a SNIF. I know SNIF stands for Skilled Nursing Facility but there are many smells that fragrant the air in these facilities that make you wonder about the chosen acronym! My family, my brother and brother-in-law live in the East Bay and San Francisco would be the closest so I chose a place called Tunnel Skilled Nursing & Rehabilitation Center on Pine St. One should know that when the term, Skilled Nursing comes before Rehabilitation, you should expect that it’s mostly an old age home with a lot of dementia, Alzheimer and just bat shit crazy elderly people. I love older people and I treat them with due respect but unfortunately I was put in a three bed room, in the middle bed, with a woman in her 60’s who was afraid of the dark and after two nights a elderly woman that clearly suffered from some type of dementia.

Lets start with the woman in her 60’s. She kept claiming that she had a buildup of wax in here ears so she needed people to speak up, and by speak up I mean scream whatever they needed to say her; not once but several times for every sentence they spoke to her. From what I overheard, Ear Wax lady or “Waxy” had some stitches in her toe and a bed sore on her butt. Apparently the bed sore gave her great discomfort and pain and made her scream out in agony if she was moved or the pillow was not placed under her bottom correctly. Also dropping her phone on the floor made her scream out like she was dying or if she couldn’t reach her water bottle. For some reason she was also afraid of the dark and demanded that her overhead light be kept on at all hours of the day and night on the highest setting. There are three settings, one being a dimmed setting but that was unacceptable to her. Did I mention that she basically slept 21 out of 24 hours per day? I had not slept but a few hours for the first two nights I was there. Between the light shining right into the opening of my top perforated curtain that looked like a SFO landing strip and her yelling directions at nurses and/or whoever she called on the phone and the pain in my leg, I started to get a bit grumpy. Would I ever sleep again? Doesn’t sleep aid in healing?

During the day I would listen to various patients yell for nurses. One guy, every three hours would yell “Hell-Low?!!!” three times and someone else in another room would yell “Shut the fuck up!” to match his Hell-Lows. There was a lot of noise from patients on the floor and I was next to the nursing station where they would laugh and talk and yell to each other all night. I would ask for the door to be closed but they would just open it again 10 min later. On Saturday, January 11th around 12:30 am an elderly woman was admitted to the bed closest to the door next to me. There was a lot of loud talking and settling her in but I was awake anyway so it didn’t really faze me. They finally got her all settled in and then they turned off her light. So her light is off, my light is off but Waxy’s light is full blast and I hear the curtains rustle on the new roommates side. I look down at the floor of her area and I see her feet on the ground pointed towards my cubicle. Before I even had time to figure out why her feet were pointing towards me, she stopped, dropped and rolled under the curtain and popped up, coming right at me. I am not kidding, this woman moved like a teenager and I could not move at all and she scared the hell out of me. She was like the Grandmother in M. Night Shyamalan’s movie The Visit. If you haven’t seen it, watch the part where the grandmother and the grandchildren are playing hide and seek under the house. This is exactly what this lady looked like coming right at me.

I yelled at her to get out of my area and she informed me that it was her office and that she was doing paperwork. The nurses came running in and she told them that I had called the police and that I was rude. They put her back into bed while she was muttering that she needed to leave and how romantic the male nurse was! After about five minutes, my heartbeat slowed to a normal rhythm when amazingly, she dropped and rolled under the curtain again!!!!! I’m not joking. I lost my mind. I was screaming at her to get out as she kept getting closer to me until the nurses and aides ran into the room again. I might have screamed out some new cuss words and then Waxy asked if I could be more quiet and thats when my head blew off my shoulders. I was screaming at her about what a selfish ass she is with the light and then I called my brother and asked him to steal a wheelchair and get me the hell out of this insane asylum immediately. I put the nurse on the phone with my brother, Waxy is yelling because she can’t hear me insulting her and Drop & Roll is saying she needs to play basketball!!!! The nurses moved dementia roller out of the room and then came back and moved me to the pod closest to the doorway, slightly away from Waxy’s landing strip lights. I made the nurses give me a higher dose of morphine so I could just pass out and pretend this was all a nightmare.

January 7, 2020 was the day of my scheduled left leg total hip replacement. I arrived at San Francisco Kaiser Medical center at 10:15 am to be admitted to the surgery bay. The plan was to wait there until the scheduled surgery at 1:15 pm. I was staring at a weird poster on the wall depicting a doctor showing great bedside manner but in reality it looked like the doctor was actually laying in bed with the patient. I swear, I had not taken any drugs yet. The scheduled time came and went and at about 3:30 my doctor came in explained that I would get an epidural and then surgery would be around 4 pm.

I received a super fun procedure called an epidural that took two anesthesiologist, a sonogram and 13 different tries before it actually numbed me from the waist down.  Heading into surgery I was transferred to the operating table, clamped in and given Propofol and once I was out the surgery began.  I woke up during the surgery THREE times.  The second time I woke up, I yelled to the anesthesiologist that I was awake as I heard the surgeon hammering something into me.  Horrifying to say the least.  After surgery I was told that the replacement was a success and the hip was solidly placed but that some of my pelvis was chipped during the removal of the old ball from the socket and that my femur and pelvis had hairline cracks from the installation of the new parts.  Instead of leaving the hospital that day on a walker as planned, I was told I would stay two nights in the hospital, followed by two weeks in a convalescent/rehab and finally six weeks post-op of only 40lbs of pressure on my new hip. I felt disappointment coupled with pain, resulting in a grumpy and sad patient.

Background

My name is Evet DeCota. I was born in 1969 with a genetic bone disease called Osteogenesis Imperfecta aka brittle bone disease or OI. This disease has many stages to it and I have one where I am missing partial or full amounts of collagen production in my bones, tendons, discs and connective tissue. In my family it is a hereditary disease passed down from my fathers DNA. I have a mild case of it, stage 1A1 compared to other stages. I was born with two broken arms and a broken nose and I have broken many bones throughout my life. Even with this disease I led a pretty normal life and had I not been such a tomboy when I was younger, I probably wouldn’t have had so many breaks.

When I was younger I would break a bone, heal and carry on. In the last decade I have started shattering bones and my recovery has not been 100%-leaving a bad limp or not being able to lift my arm fully from a shattered ball of my shoulder. In 2011 I had an accident at a gym fracturing and shattering multiple bones in my right lower leg and compressing vertebrae in my lower back. This accident put me in a wheelchair for 3 months and then I was subjected to an inexperienced Physical Therapist that put me back in a wheelchair for a month. My hips were effected by the sedentary time in a wheelchair and became arthritic and made it difficult to stand, walk and sit. This is a real problem because my career is in hairstyling and makeup. I had three consultations with Orthopedic Surgeons over a five year period and not one of them would do a hip replacement. The last consult I had, the surgeon informed me that I would eventually be in a wheelchair. Fast forward to 2019, where my niece, who has the same bone disease, needed and received a hip replacement at UCSF. She had no complications and recovered quickly and perfectly. This gave me hope and with the help of my GP, I was guided to an Orthopedic Surgeon at San Francisco Kaiser, who had successfully performed hip replacements on people with OI and studied his fellowship under the doctor that did my niece’s hip replacement. After numerous test to make sure I was ready for surgery I scheduled the hip replacement for January 2020