By Mary Hower
I had never had to deal with an incapacitating medical issue before, until this year. As a single person, this situation is complex. Here’s my story and some tips for getting support to literally get back on your feet after surgery.
It was just another sunny December day when I woke up to take my walk. Not that day though. Pain seemed to emanate from my back and seared into my groin area. I could barely move. Had I pulled something? I’d been experiencing back pain off and on for the past year, which my doctor attributed to arthritis, but with some stretching and Ibuprofen, I had gotten by. Now, I felt as stiff and squeaky as the Tin Man. I needed oil!
A week later, I hobbled into urgent care, barely able to make it from my car to the clinic. The doctor recommended physical therapy and directed me to take more Ibuprofen. The next months were a blur as I did physical therapy, forced myself through twice a week Pilates, and went to an osteopath. I tried chondroitin and vitamins D and K. Nothing helped.
In March, a friend suggested a physiatrist, a new term for me. Physiatry is a branch of medicine which intervenes with pain using non-operative measures. The doctor quickly rendered his verdict. “It’s not your back, it’s your hips.”
I saw an orthopedic surgeon in May and after the MRI came back with a verdict of bone-on-bone arthritis in both hips, I was ready. We scheduled hip surgery number one for July, with the second to follow six months later.
Because I was on the younger side (early 60s), I was able to elect outpatient surgery, meaning I’d go home the same day. But that also meant I would need someone on hand for the first 72 hours to help monitor meds, walking, and blood clots. I’d also need help around the house for a few weeks after that while I regained my mobility. It wasn’t heavy-duty nursing care, just a responsible adult who’d be there to get help if I got into trouble.
Since my divorce in my 50s, I’d gotten used to, and proud of, my ability to do things on my own. I’d never needed care, and it was hard to ask for help. Everyone seemed so busy And the moment triggered a regret I hadn’t felt in years—that I was alone, not married, living far from my family.
But that moment didn’t last long. For I had created a web of friends since my divorce. I screwed up my courage to ask for help but barely had to. Whenever I mentioned the surgery, friends came forward with offers to come over, stay the night, bring food, visit, and be on call at a moment’s notice.
One of those unexpected volunteers was my son, Joey, in his 20s, who was living at home for the summer. It would be a new role for him. I asked him to be completely honest with me, and he was. I also assured him he wouldn’t be alone by any means.
We created a safety net—friends would come over every day, and for the first 72 hours, Joey and another adult would be in the house during the day. At night, he had a list of friends who lived close by that he could call at a moment’s notice. My doctor scheduled a physical therapist/nurse to visit each day the first week, then twice a week.
With my main caregivers, I discussed worst-case scenarios, ones in which they would need to call 9-1-1. I shared detailed notes from my pre-op Zoom session on aftercare, how to monitor for blood clots, ways to prevent falls, and what to do if I did fall.
To help get ready, I froze homemade meals and ordered ready-made entrees. All my friends would have to do was heat them up in the microwave. I scheduled my friends to come into the house every day for two weeks. And those who lived too far away or otherwise couldn’t make it, scheduled Zoom calls.
It worked beautifully, and I will be forever grateful for everyone who came with good cheer, their Grandma’s homemade chicken soup, excellent dark chocolate from Trader Joe’s, and humor about how I would now have a bionic hip. They brought more food than I could ever eat, from homemade tamales to coffee and tiramisu, and cheered me on.
Joey took on the responsibility well, being there when needed and yet stepping aside when others could help. He admitted it was a bit strange at first to have our roles reversed. I slept easier with him there at night, and my health and mobility returned as I quickly started walking with a walker the day of surgery, and then a cane after two weeks, and then, only four weeks later, all on my own!
When I had my second hip replaced in February 2023, Joey was away at college, so Kelsey, my best friend from college, traveled from Oregon and volunteered to stay with me those crucial first days. It made my heart sing that this friendship we’d made in our 20s had lasted four decades, and we were closer than ever.
My dear writer colleague and friend, Kat, followed her the next week. We laughed as she brought over a large bell with a three-foot-long handle that had been used by her mother-in-law in her elementary school classroom, telling me I should ring it any time, day or night.
After I was on my feet, I thanked Kat profusely, and I will never forget her reply.
“It’s an honor to be asked,” she said.
As a result of this experience, I realized with gratitude that I had a network of helpful friends and family, with some relationships that went back to my 20s. I developed a more grown-up relationship with my son, who discovered some caretaking skills of his own. And I learned to lean lightly. My friends who are finding themselves at the mercy of joints and muscles they might not have been aware of before now may also need to learn to lean at some point in the future. They know where to find me—I’m right here, on their shortlist.
So here are some caretaking tips for solos after surgery:
- Follow your doctor’s instructions. If they say you need help after surgery, don’t ignore it and think you can do it alone.
- Schedule 24/7 help for the first 2 or 3 days. Designate either one person for this or schedule friends in shifts. Make sure to prepare them with detailed notes about what to do in an emergency. Include basic home tasks like when and where to put the garbage cans out for weekly pick up.
- Do what you can for yourself ahead of time—line up the meds, freeze meals, and get the supplies and the assistive devices ahead of your procedure.
- Line up some home health care from professionals if available. My insurance paid for a physical therapist with a nursing background who could monitor my vitals. I also scheduled some occupational therapy.
- Some people will have one person who sees them through the whole thing—a designated friend or family member. I preferred to spread the caretaking around so that no one person felt too burdened and that they felt supported. Even if you have a solo caretaker, make sure you have some backup, just in case.
- Don’t take it personally if someone you ask cannot help. Maybe a friend you ask has their own issues or current circumstances. One of the greatest lessons I learned is that people help in the ways they can.
- And finally, don’t forget to schedule the fun visits, too, especially in the weeks you can’t get out and about on your own. Zoom can be great for this!
Mary Hower is a freelance writer, editor, and writing coach whose essays and poetry have been published in Salon, Nimrod, KQED Perspectives, Threepenny Review, the Virginia Quarterly Review, and other magazines. She’s currently writing a novel. Reach out to her at maryhower1@gmail.com.
Throughout this “Going It Alone” section of this blog, we will share learnings from others navigating retirement alone, so that you don’t have to do it all alone.