Pg. 3
By Sue Alcorn
The counselor and I spent an hour or so going over the many options and developed a short-term plan that was very goal oriented. We were just about wrapping things up when I received a call from my Infectious Disease specialist. The blood tests indicated there was the presence of another infection and he was in the process of setting up my hospital admission. My bubble of hope burst and I was extremely disappointed, to the point of tears. Not exactly the professional image I wanted to leave with my Vocational Rehab counselor. She understood, was very sympathetic and said it was clear I was not physically well enough to return to work. Reluctantly, I went to the hospital and had more tests. The results indicated the MRSA had attached itself to the hardware from the osteotomy. Another surgical procedure was needed to remove the metal plates and resect my femur. Therefore, for the next 3-4 weeks I underwent the same schedule: Surgery (D&L) one day, one day off, surgery the next, one day off, and so on, and so on, until two consecutive cultures came back negative. However, this time the surgeon decided against suturing my leg prior to discharge. I spent Christmas of 1995 and New Years Day of 1996 in the hospital.
My leg remained opened for a few months while I recovered at home and until the doctors were certain the MRSA was gone. In October, 1996, my left hip was replaced. I went through the same rehabilitation program as my prior hip replacement. I spent 10 days in the Rehab center and when I was discharged, a physical therapist came to my home 3 times a week. By Christmas, 1996, I was walking again. And again, a glimmer of hope washed over me allowing my fantasies to run amok. Life was great. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel growing brighter with each passing day. Little did I know that light was an oncoming train.
In early January, 1997 my left hip dislocated. Again, the MRSA had attached itself to the prosthesis and this time, it had to be removed. The surgeon explained to me that I'd have no bone, no prosthetic in my leg making walking a near impossibility. Devastated, I resigned myself to the life I'd been given. Those were extremely dark days. But, as all things do, that gloom passed and I began to rediscover the little joys in life. I read a lot, taught myself how to paint, knit, crochet and make dozens of craft projects. I became a media junkie, glued to the tube and watched every talk show. A home health aide assisted me with my personal care 5 days a week. I rarely went outside of my home, except for the occasional trip to the mall or grocery store. My friends' visits became infrequent as did members of the church and the clubs where I had been an active participant. I isolated myself from the world, enjoyed my home and the activities I could do, and applauded the small victories of my life.
The infection raged on and by June, 1997, the doctor chose a more aggressive approach. My leg was re-opened, washed and cleaned several more times but this time, they didn't suture it. It stayed open to air until January 1998. From being inactive and bed bound, I gained a lot of weight over the years. I ballooned to 315 lbs. at my heaviest.
The illness had put a strain on both my husband and I. We grew apart in many ways and I made the decision to leave. The relationship was not healthy and I really wanted more for each of us. So, in September 1998, I decided to begin making drastic lifestyle changes. I cut down on the fat in my diet and eliminated sugar. Tired of wearing the face of doom and gloom, I created some structure in my life. Bought a computer and by May, 1999, I moved into a one-bedroom apartment specifically designed for people with disabilities.
It took some time to adjust and I had a lot of issues to work through. At first, it was hard to even acknowledge the fact that I may never walk again, but it was an issue I'd have to face sooner or later. So I reached out for some therapy. A counselor came to my home and gave me some wonderful advice and coping tools to get me through the rough patches. She also suggested I create a regimen or routine. By keeping a daily schedule, I found life easier to manage. For so many years, I had no control over my most basic functions. But living in a new environment, one that was accessible allowed me many freedoms and new experiences. I could finally shower, instead of taking bed baths. My bathroom became my personal utopia, my Eden even though it has more bars in it than Attica. I could finally cook my own meals, wash my own dishes and do my own laundry. All of these tasks were not possible when I was living with my husband. Our house was not set up for wheelchair accessibility. And slowly, after regaining my independence and paying strict attention to my diet, the weight came off and I've come to accept whatever challenges the future holds. As my independence grew, so did my self-esteem. My future looked good. Experiencing life from a wheelchair no longer seemed bleak.
By March 2002, my knees began giving me trouble so I made an appointment with my surgeon's partner. (Dr. Mogil had retired in 1999 and my case was turned over to an office colleague, Dr. Ponzio). Dr. P ordered some x-rays which confirmed that both joints were in the 4th stage of AVN and he recommended replacement. But asked me if I was interested in becoming a candidate for having my left hip replaced. New technology and procedures had been developed that made a revision possible. My heart leapt for joy. I didn't expect to hear such great news. Of course, my answer was a boisterous "Yes!!!" He referred me to an orthopedic specialist in Philadelphia.
The specialist scheduled an August 17th surgery date. However, once I was on the operating table, he said my pre-admission blood tests indicated the possibility of infection. He said if he got into the leg and found any traces of MRSA, he couldn't perform the revision, but would clean out the area and resect the femur further, hoping to extract that portion which held the MRSA. And, that's what happened. That was a huge set-back for me on an emotional level. One I hadn't considered. And other medical problems cropped up from that surgery that required me to be confined to bed. This time I was alone. No husband, no family to help -- just home health aides. The aides were okay, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't establish a "friendship" with them because I was in such a deep depression.
October, 2002's follow-up visit to the specialist held a surprise for me. X-rays and blood tests indicated I was infection free and he said the revision could possibly be planned for January 2003. With a renewed sense of hope, I prepared myself emotionally for surgery and allowed for the possibility that an infection could prevent the revision.
My hip was replaced on January 20, 2003 and the surgery was a success!! The conclusion of my saga continues on the next page.
Thank you.