Before we can change anything in our life, we have to recognize that this is the way it is meant to be right now. For me, acceptance has become what I call the long sigh of the soul. It’s the closed eyes in prayer, perhaps even the quiet tears. It’s “all right,” as in “All right, You lead, I’ll follow.” And it’s “all right” as in “Everything is going to turn out all right.” This is simply part of the journey.
~ Sarah Ban Breathnach, from Simple Abundance
I was pretty confident I would be a kind of poster child for hip replacement recovery. I’m relatively young, not overweight, in decent shape for someone who’s been slowed down by advancing osteoarthritis for two years. In all that time, despite encroaching pain, I did my best to keep exercising. I continued my daily yoga practice, albeit a modified practice using blocks and a chair and bolsters. I waited a full year to see a highly recommended surgeon at one of the country’s best orthopedic hospitals. I scheduled my surgeries for 6 weeks apart at the end of 2105, so I could begin the new year with two new hips.
And I figured that if I followed instructions to the letter, did my physical therapy religiously, and didn’t push too far or too fast, I’d soon resume my old, normal life. Some people had warned, “This is major surgery.” But others said, “It’s no big deal.” Those were the ones I chose to believe. I was nervous, of course. But this had already been a long road. (I wrote about that here.) And within a few days of my second surgery, I had myself convinced I would negotiate this little patch of rough ground easily and soon be back on course with my life.
Yes, that’s called an “expectation.” And you’d think I’d know by now that getting attached to an expectation is a good recipe for disappointment.
About six weeks ago, I had to ask well-intentioned friends to stop sending me YouTube videos meant to lift my spirits and urge me on. There are plenty of inspiring hip replacement stories out there. I’ve watched the sixty year old woman doing yoga three weeks after her hip replacement. And the forty-eight–year-old former gymnast as she kicked her legs up around her shoulders without missing a beat.
I marveled at the guy who threw his crutches away three days after surgery and was doing martial arts and kickboxing a few months later. I visited the website for post-op runners and read their stories of training for and completing marathons with bionic hips. The fifty-five-year-old Alvin Ailey dancer is gorgeous and amazing. As is the tap dancer. Yep, tap dancing, three weeks after surgery.
So impressive, every one of them. And so not my story.
Which is to say, I will not be joining the HipRunners club or sharing my recovery on dancerhips.com.
A few weeks after my second hip replacement, on the left side, I began to notice increasing pain and weakness in my left leg. Having already relegated my crutches to the basement, I retrieved them. The pain got worse. And then it became excruciating. X-rays showed there was nothing wrong with the new hardware and blood work confirmed there was no infection. And with that, my highly respected surgeon pretty much lost interest. “Take it easy,” he said.
The day after that appointment, I flew to Florida, fighting back tears with every step and dependent on the kindness of strangers to help me board the plane. My parents met me at the other end, surprised to see how much ground I’d lost. I’d planned this trip to their house here months ago, with the thought (the expectation) that by the time I arrived, I’d be almost back to “normal.” I pictured myself outside walking every day, adding miles, getting back to full speed.
Instead, for the first couple of weeks here, my mom took care of me. I spent hours those first days online, until I was finally able to diagnose myself: ischial bursitis. This debilitating inflammation can be caused by a discrepancy in leg length (check), extended periods of sitting (check), trauma to the region (check). There is no cure but rest and time, pain management, and then, eventually, exercises to begin to strengthen the atrophied muscles.
I’m better now. Most of the pain is gone. But it’s been almost three months since my last surgery, and I’m a long way from kicking up my heels. I still have weakness in my groin area. I have a limp. My left leg is shorter than my right, and that is something I’m going to have to live with. None of this is what I expected.
And so I’ve done a lot of thinking over these last weeks about expectations. I can certainly relate to Calvin and Hobbes creat0r Bill Watterson’s line, “I find my life is a lot easier the lower I keep my expectations.”
Because, really, so much of the disappointment we experience in life has to do with the gap between the way we think something ought to be and the reality of what actually pans out. In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t watched all those videos of the hip replacement superstars. I might have had an easier time, psychologically anyway, if I’d set out down this path with a bit less ego and expectation, and with more humility and curiosity instead. Bodies are unpredictable, after all, and surgery is an art not a science. There are no guarantees.
And so, I come to the end of this long-awaited time in Florida with new perspective on the process of healing. The physical setback meant I had no choice but to go into one-day-at a-time mode. And having to readjust all my expectations brought me to a place I didn’t expect to be: starting over again at square one. Instead of sailing through these surgeries and the aftermath with flying colors, I sat on the edge of the bed here at my parents’ house six weeks ago and wondered how I was going to lift my foot high enough to get my underpants on.
“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities,” observes Zen master Shunryu Suzuki, “but in the expert’s there are few.”
Pain makes you a beginner. Moment by moment, day by day, you learn what your body will tolerate. You figure out what helps and what movements to avoid at all costs. And suddenly, with pain as your teacher, you are really, really awake and really, really paying attention. Simple movements that you once did mindlessly – carrying the tea kettle to the stove, getting into a car, standing up from the toilet – demand the kind of awareness and integrity you used to bring to an advanced yoga pose you were trying for the first time.
I’ve had nearly two months in this lovely house with a pool and a hot tub overlooking a canal. I’ve had time with my mom, time with Henry, and now, before Steve joins me for a short vacation, I have two utterly quiet weeks all alone. I’ve had hours each day to stretch, to do exercises in the water, and to experiment on my yoga mat, slowly rebuilding strength and flexibility. What I’ve accomplished wouldn’t make for much of a video, but it feels like progress to me. Both of my legs are getting stronger. And I’ve also learned a few hard lessons about releasing expectations.
When it comes to my body now, I have to accept that there’s much I can’t control. What I can do instead is attend to it. The difference is major. Attending means listening, observing, accepting. It means working with what is rather than grasping for something out of reach. The path to wellness turns out to be more mysterious and unpredictable than I knew, which makes it scarier and more confusing. But it also makes it beautiful. Because as pain slowly eases its grip, what comes seeping into that tender place is gratitude.
Yesterday, I took my first real walk outside without using hiking poles for support. It felt like liberation – and like cause for celebration. I walked slowly, thinking about every step, carefully placing heels and toes, focusing on creating a smooth gait. And what I thought about wasn’t that I’m not running or dancing or executing pigeon poses on my yoga mat. I thought about how fabulous it felt to take a walk.
I watched the sky change colors and the clouds turn golden as the sun sank away. I listened to the mourning doves calling back and forth from their perches on the utility wires above my head. I felt the breeze on my skin and the long muscles in my inner thighs that still need strengthening and the awkwardness of having legs that don’t quite match up. But I also felt like myself. Not the old self, who used to run through these neighborhoods, pounding the pavement and dripping sweat, but me, nonetheless: present, in my body, in the world, and still moving. Oh, and happy.
Dear Katrina – Thank you for sharing this. I am facing some medical – possible surgical intervention in my future and I am scared! I have been practicing and teaching yoga for many years. I hope my body is ready to face the trauma of surgery and my psyche is humble enough to accept that the outcome is unpredictable. I have benefitted from your recovery, by reading your posts which come more often! I wish you well on this piece of your journey. If you follow your own internal direction that you offer so generously to others, I know you have the resources to find what you need along the path to healing and embracing a new lifestyle! Maybe so do I. In Light, Robin
Finished my doctorate, cleaned the house, bought books to research my next novel and then had long-overdue foot surgery after which I’d planned to do a final revision of my current novel, read all the research books I’d ordered, design a web page update, and the list goes on. What I actually did was learn to sit still, to be patient in pain, to hold my tongue, and to be grateful for the tiny signs of progression I felt each day from being able to move my toes an eighth inch, to gaining back some flexibility in the ankle, to finally being able to tackle stairs. Reading your journey, Katrina, has helped me on my journey. Life is truly one day at a time and learning to be grateful for each minute.
Oh Katrina. Healing light to you and your kind, courageous heart. I love your wisdom here. Yes, we get so caught up in the expectations. I needed these words today. Thank you. xo
I have discovered that in ways both better and worse, life hasn’t turned out how I always imagined it might….. All any of us can do is summon the grace to bow to the present moment and open our hearts to accept whatever the day presents. So much can be done with what a day brings – a chance to be grateful, a chance to bear up, a chance to inch forward, a chance to view ourselves and others through the lens of love…
Your every step is grace-filled, my dear friend… May your steps soon be free of pain. xoxo
Thanks for sharing your story here yet again. “Because, really, so much of the disappointment we experience in life has to do with the gap between the way we think something ought to be and the reality of what actually pans out.” That is an absolute truth. Once, we accept that life occurs on life’s terms, and there is little we can do to change the inevitable, but listen to our bodies, minds, and souls, and nourish as needed in our own way.
Namaste Katrina!
Allow the mind/spirit/breath parts of your yoga practice to keep you fully present. Always staying “in the moment,” and “learning to be okay with whatever is happening.” Sending love and light and peace to you, Katrina!
Sending you sympathy and wishes for continued healing, Katrina. I’ve been holding the expectations/acceptance dilemma in my hands often lately, too…and especially conscious of the problematic nature of taking on so many other people’s stories and experiences. Just enough to encourage and connect and then paying attention to my own unfolding is the balance I am trying to find lately. Hope you find yours, too. xo
Ahhh expectations. This was so helpful to read but I’m sorry it was so difficult a journey these last months. Here’s to living in the space permitted by our bodies, our minds and each day.
Katrina,
How timely your post was today, I am having bladder surgery next month and am
so worried something will go wrong and how will I endure the long recovery process
so maybe I shouldn’t be thinking so much about what could go wrong and just go
with what ever happens one day at a time.
you had a lovely place to heal and nobody better than a Mother to be there for you
it may take you longer than you thought (expected) however I think you are well on your way to live an active life again. Take care…
Katrina,
What an uplifting short little story. I love nature and can truly say that being out there walking really helps me so much. Main and most important for me is that nature helps me heal. I have lost both of my son’s five and 15 years ago and found myself lost and alone. For the sake of nature, I feel it has rescued me in more ways than one.
Katrina, sending you lots of healing light and energy. You continue to inspire me with your authentic and heartfelt sharing. Blessings and wishes for your continued healing.
Thank you Katrina. When I read your post, I had just finished a phone conversation with my sweetheart where I was telling him about my free-floating anxiety about the rehab after my knee replacement surgery one week from today… Now I will try to reframe my state of mind and focus on the present.
I have also had two hip replacements, Katrina. After my first hip replacement, my left leg was 1″ longer. My surgeon assured me, when I had my second hip replacement he would “even out” my right leg. His recommendation was to wait at least 9 months for my second surgery. As you can imagine, I was very lopsided, in a lot of pain and discomfort. It was suggested to me to get a custom made orthotic. I quickly accepted that idea as divine intervention. It solved my problem and true to his word, after my second hip replacement I was “even”. This might be something you’d like to consider for yourself. I had to purchase some new shoes, making sure they would be able to accommodate the orthotic. Blessings to you and your family for a Happy Easter and your continued healing. Kristine
Katrina – I am so happy you are on the mend, albeit slowly. I love the awareness and lessons that you learned and share with us here. Oh, how much we take for granted. But you offer us a different view through the past few months for you. Thank you for your wisdom <3
Dick sleeps in the next room as his leg/knee and muscles heal. On mild pain killers, this is our 4th surgery this year, actually in the past 6 months. OMG, what a time we have had. As you, my dear friend, I am grateful, we are the lucky ones who have dodged a bullet or, rather bullets and although nothing has been as I had planned, it has been grand. He is here, I am here, you are there and hobbling is OK, I need a hip too they say.
Blessings for health and a strong recovery. Thank you for your words, xx
Dear Katrina,
I have had both hips and both knees replaced over a course of fourteen years. The most recent knee surgery was this past September. While I do not consider myself an expert, by any means, I have learned one thing. Every replacement is different. No two limbs are the same. Each has its own issues. Recovery is different for everyone. I was 48 when I had my first hip done. There were 80 yr. old ladies zipping down the hospital halls past me. You have to trust that you will get there. I had a blood clot after my first hip. It set me back weeks. But pain and the thought of becoming an invalid was not on my register. My husband said to me life may change and maybe you can’t do all the things you did before, but you are walking. Life is different, accept what it is and deal with it. After my first knee, my legs were different lengths. I had to put a wedge in my heel to make things even, which caused planter fasciitis. Very painful. Eventually, I had my other knee replaced this past fall. I went to therapy three times a week for three months. I still walk every day and do my exercises daily. I am a work in progress. I drive and no longer use a cane after 14 years. I am so grateful to be moving. I thank god every day that there is something available to help me live a better quality of life. The alternative is not in my vocabulary. I wish you only the best. All good things take work. I have faith you will get there. You have determination and grit.
Thank you, Katrina, for this lovely and necessary post. My (fit! thin! active!) husband wound up in the hospital a few years ago with an inflammatory disease that threatened his joints so that they thought he would never walk again. He is now (almost) fully recovered, but those long intervening months…the first baby steps of a person who had not been able to stand for 22 days…keep us humble. Every dog walk is a gift. Every getting out of bed in the morning a thing of beauty. You captured this feeling so well. Continued healing and good health.
my heart breaks that it has been so so hard. i am so so sorry……you’re in my heart. and in my prayers most especially tonight…..
Ohhh, mine have nothing to do with the body but my expectations are about my son graduating this year. Still don’t know if he will, and yet it makes me anxious — as If i could something to help him in this. To me it feels as though I have to intervene, control, know and fix something that is so out of my control. Maybe like the pain you are dealing with. Your post is perfectly timed in my life — we expect so much from life or from a plan, and then forget to stay present. I also practice yoga and that is one of the hardest things to do, stay present. namaste
Wow! I’m writing from London, where I’m two weeks into a four-month vacation. My expectations were to do lots of walking in the parks and getting familiar with different neighborhoods. Instead, I’m having a relapse of pain in my left leg due to arthritis and trochanteric bursitis, so I’m pretty house-bound. I was thinking of perusing your website, Katrina, for past entries that might help me put some perspective on this situation, and what should show up in my email inbox, but this marvelous and so apropos post. I have a lot of work to do in terms of acceptance and faith, but you have given me a good start. Thank you so much.
Such a timely…and timeless message, Katrina. I, too am recovering from surgery and so far things are going quite well. However, just yesterday, in another area of my life there was a very unexpected and unwelcome change. One of the things that keeps me in balance is stepping back to look at the big picture…the larger landscape of my life and recognizing the growth and opportunities that have accompanied both the joys and challenges of my journey. 42 years ago as I worked at your dad’s office I had hopes (expectations) of the joys of raising a family, living in my dream house and growing old with my husband. But NEVER in my wildest dreams did I expect the grief of lost traditions as the children moved away, leaving my beloved home and friends, or the heartbreak of divorce. Yet in the midst of those sorrows I have found greater wisdom, new hopes and dreams and yes, unexpected joys. Thank you for continuing to share your experiences and insights. May your journey continue to be one of healing and hope.
This could have been written by ME 6 long years ago after what was suppose to be simple knee surgery to fix a small tear. HA. Took me a few years to get comfortable with it and to understand WHAT triggers it and what to do to minimize. . I too suffered from short leg syndrome and routine chiropractic adjustments and MASSAGE keep those muscles from tensing too terribly. What I found that I an’t live without are shoe inserts custom made. WHAT A GOD SEND. Mine are foot levelers (brand name sold thru podiatrists and chiropractors.). I love them. LIFE CHANGER! Thanks for sharing an amazing journey. You wrote my story – although much more eloquently!!!!
Thank you for your truth, Katrina, I believe it is from that place all healing exists.
In love and light.
I haven’t read the whole article yet, but this is a timely article for me! I just stopped at the first sentence “Before we can change anything in our life, we have to recognize that this is the way it is meant to be right now” and I don’t quite agree with it. If you just accept things as they are, you will never initiate changes. In order to change things in your life, you need to refuse to accept things as they are. That’s the way it’s always been for me. Well, that’s my opinion and I respect that everyone thinks differently.
Hi Martine, Thanks for your response. The way I interpret that quote, and the reason it spoke to me and to my theme of expectations, is that there is much in our lives that is beyond our control. And that’s where acceptance comes in. However, change happens as we begin to work with what IS, and then very powerful transformations can take place. It’s easy to get stuck in the “grasping” place, but movement and flow and the real work of our lives happens when we begin to ride the waves with grace. Hope that makes sense and clarifies!
Martine, this is why there is a serenity prayer:
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
A good reminder for all of us who put so much on ourselves before we even realize how much work just breathing can sometimes be. Wishing you peace and joy as you continue along your journey of healing your body.
Katrina, you continue to inspire me as I attempt to navigate one of the most challenging periods of my life. I so needed the reminder that expectations can lead us down a path that can be a detour to self-acceptance. I am currently re-reading Magical Journey as your voice perfectly resonates with my perspective right now. I wish you continued progress.
This is wonderful. Thank you. I have two arthritic hips and am an active person who does Pilates, Gyrotonics, rides and jumps my horse 3 – 4 days a week and walks. I am facing hip replacement surgery sometime down the line and your reminder to be with my body as it is was perfect.
Thanks Katrina and Kathy. Yes, I see your point. I wasn’t thinking about things beyond our control. That’s for sure that there are certain things you can’t control. I guess I tend to focus on things I can change, even though it might seem impossible to change them at first, or people around me try to convince me it’s impossible to change them, you see what I mean? People say of me that I am a very determined person who manages to reach her goals even when faced with tough obstacles. I would say it’s a fair assumption. I have always been a fighter, although I don’t know what I would do in certain situations I haven’t been confronted to!
Katrina, your articles are full of wisdom and I enjoy reading them very much. Thanks so much! I wish you all a wonderful weekend!
Bless you Katrina
Your writing is eloquent. Your share touches my heart and something I can relate to. Your message is needed. Thank you for putting your heart out there for us to connect, empathize and grow with. I wish you continued healing in body, mind and spirit. You are beautiful, strong and inspiring. Xx
It is so heartening to hear your story, Katrina. So many of us carry expectations with us be it perfection, success, or regaining our health. When someone we respect is faced with such debilitating results we can forgive ourselves for experiencing similar failures despite our best intentions and efforts. When I broke my sacrum and pelvis, I was embarrassed and wanted to apologize for hobbling into a large gathering where I’d been invited to talk using a walker … I who hiked miles on mountain trails and reveled in such strength in my seventies. It was a humbling experience and forced me to face my overblown expectations and yes, vanity. With so many rooting for you, I am sure that the power of their thoughts and prayers shall strengthen you as you make incremental steps toward full mobility..
Katrina, I certainly wish you would have had a better recovery. However…….your honesty about your setbacks must give hope to a lot of people. So often we all sugarcoat our recovery processes. All of the “it’s no big deal” “you’ll be back to normal in no time” “these things are a piece of cake”…….don’t help when you are struggling. Your story makes you more real and more relateable. Is that a word? Thank you for your candor, once again.
Thank you, thank you, thank you as Anne Lamott would say. I needed to hear this today; I need to REALLY hear this. How wonderful to be a writer that can reach right into someone else’s life and make a difference. Bless you.
You’ve done it again—expressed in your beautiful writing exactly how I have been thinking/feeling. I had just a single hip replacement a month ago and “expected” a quick recovery. Still learning that my muscles were so out of kilter from walking lopsided for so long that it will take a good while for those muscles to wake up. Thanks for sharing yourself with us as it really helps to be reminded of what’s important. Sending best wishes that you will feel stronger and stronger.
Katrina, this was a wonderful, heartfelt post. Expectations have gotten me down so often since I had a tumor removed from my brain (benign or I’d have been gone). I’ve had pain off and on all my life (and I’m 69 now). Yet I am confounded by expectations. I look to the next day or few days. “I’m going to do this, or that” and so often am stopped by how I feel (too little energy, too much pain or whatever). But I guess it’s just my way to “look ahead”. But i’m all right. Life is good. Birds sing, spring comes and the grass grows by itself. Nevertheless, your sharing was very heartening. I will say, as a retired psychotherapist of 37 years, that you don’t have to like what happens, you don’t have to be grateful, and you don’t have to be thankful. I think all feelings felt and expressed, somehow, are valuable.
Pain makes you a beginner. No matter if it’s physical or emotional this is truth. You must start over from scratch. Perhaps all the emotional new beginnings will help me accept the physical ones.
Hope you are beginning to feel better – look, spring is on your doorstep and beckoning!
Dear Katrina,
I’m not sure how I missed this until today … But your words are luminous as usual. I know this rock bottom place well and while its deeply humbling, starting from scratch is also really beautiful, as you know. Beginner’s mind. I needed to remember how sweet it is. Thank you for writing these words.