Today has really been a wake-up call for me. Today marks exactly one month until my surgery (a derotational femoral osteotomy). This surgery may have been the solution in disguise that we’ve been hoping for, I really don’t know. All I can really hold onto is hope.
As I write this, I am in pain. I have been in chronic pain for six years now. These past six years have been full of amazing triumphs and joys, but through it all—six years of my life—have been taken up by chronic pain. I’m tired. I’m fourteen, almost fifteen. I move like an old lady. I don’t want this pain holding me back anymore.
I’m not naïve; I know this surgery won’t take away my cerebral palsy. I wouldn’t want it to anyway. I just want less painful mobility. I want to move around in a slightly crowded room or walking in the hallway and not to have to worry about falling down. I don’t know if that’s too much to hope for.
If this stabbing, shooting, throbbing, aching pain goes away, that’s my main goal. This is the last stone I see to overturn, and I’m not sure what’s hidden under that stone yet.
I’m so hopeful for what my surgery might change, but it makes me sad as well. Dealing with pain has become a part of me. Will everything I’ve gone through with this pain not matter anymore if the pain goes away? Will I still look like I have CP? Will people judge me differently?
There is so much I don’t know. I am nervous. Surgery will happen the summer before my sophomore year, and I want to be healed before I go back to school. In 10th grade, I want to be able to do the things that my pain prevented me from doing before.
Recovery will take all summer, during which I’ll undergo physical therapy three to four times a week. I sound so clinical right now, but I am so nervous. I have been through surgery before, but my rheumatologist told me recently that I feel pain more deeply than most people and that recovery might be more challenging for me.
I know losing some of the physical strength I have gained over the years is temporary, but it scares me. I like to be as independent as possible. Without the little independence I have, I feel depressed. I don’t want to lose touch with my friends because I’m stuck at home recovering and can’t do much.
I am so hopeful of what I may gain by having surgery, but I can’t help being scared of what I might lose. And it only happens in a month….