I’m writing to you today from an airbnb in Rochester, MN, where I’m staying with my husband and parents, awaiting surgery tomorrow.1 Please forgive any mixed metaphors, grammatical errors, etc😬—I’m just doing the best I can to share while I feel compelled to let you all in. We just got home from a long day of pre-operative appointments at the Mayo Clinic, punctuated by a long appointment with my surgeon.
You know things aren’t great with your health when you meet a new doctor and they immediately say, “I am so sorry you are going through this.” I’ve had years of medical gaslighting, but in the last 7 or so months, I’ve become the recipient of medical grief. It’s a jarring shift. “You are going through hell right now. This is so much,” one doctor said through tears. Things aren’t great when the doctors start crying…
Over the last month, it’s become clear that my case of Avascular Necrosis (AVN)2 is, like all of my health issues, complicated. One surgeon in Colorado was unwilling to even operate on me, citing that my case was just “too complex” to risk. “It’s good that you are already scheduled for surgery at Mayo,” he said. “That’s the best place for someone like you.” Ouch.
I’m having surgery on both of my knees tomorrow, and I’m not sure what to hope for. But I know I need hope.
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