Seven Surgeries In. Final Replacement Done. And Now I’m Terrified It’s Starting Again.
I honestly don’t know how many times I’ve rewritten this story in my head.
What started as an 11 mph scooter ride and one pothole has now turned into seven surgeries.
After everything that happened before—fracture, infection, hardware removal, months without a hip joint, heterotopic bone growth, an antibiotic spacer, and multiple dislocations—I thought I was finally nearing the end of this nightmare.
Then things somehow got worse.
My spacer dislocated, and I was forced to live with it dislocated for nearly two months while waiting for my final surgery.
I can’t even properly describe that pain.
I was given handfuls of Dilaudid that barely touched it.
The moment it dislocated, I could physically see and feel my leg become about four inches shorter. Over time, it seemed to shorten even more, and every movement sent pain through my body because the loose spacer was grinding against… honestly, I don’t even know what.
And the cruel part?
That spacer was supposed to preserve space for my final hip replacement.
Instead, because it failed, it created even more scar tissue and heterotopic bone, making an already complicated surgery even harder.
A few weeks ago, I finally had what was supposed to be my final hip replacement surgery.
For the first time in a long time, I woke up and heard words I desperately needed:
“It couldn’t have gone better.”
My surgeon told me the procedure was a success.
After everything I’ve been through, hearing that felt unreal.
But I was only kept in the hospital for two days.
Then I was sent home with pain medication and oral Minocycline.
That part has been bothering me.
Given my history of repeated infections and constant setbacks, I expected stronger precautions—possibly IV antibiotics like many others seem to receive after major infection-related revisions.
Maybe there’s a reason for the plan they chose. I genuinely hope so.
But now I’m three weeks post-op, and things feel off again.
Yesterday my hip became swollen and painful.
Then I developed a 102-degree fever.
I called the on-call doctor at Mayo and was told to take Tylenol, rest, and give it a couple days.
I’m trying not to panic, but after everything I’ve been through, that response felt surreal.
At this point I genuinely don’t know what normal healing looks like anymore.
Every setback has trained my brain to expect another disaster.
And if this is another infection…
I honestly don’t know what happens next.
Has anyone dealt with swelling/fever a few weeks after revision surgery that ended up being nothing?
Or should I be pushing harder for answers?
I’m exhausted.
I’m grateful this surgery technically went well.
But I’m also terrified this story still isn’t over.
What makes this even harder is that the medical side of this story doesn’t exist in a vacuum.
Before all of this, I worked as a residential painter and was constantly creating things—woodworking projects, furniture builds, anything that kept me moving. I was independent.
Now I’ve spent birthdays in a wheelchair.
I’ve been unable to work the way I used to.
My partner has been carrying an unbelievable amount while also helping care for his mother as her dementia gets worse.
We’ve dealt with housing instability, bouncing between temporary places while trying to survive this financially.
And through all of it, I’ve had this weird stubborn dream that someday this story ends with stability again—walking into a home that feels permanent, getting back to creating things with my hands, traveling again, maybe even just doing something as simple as walking my dog without thinking about every step.
That version of life feels very far away right now.
But I’m trying really hard not to let this entire experience convince me that my life is only hospitals now.
-Mike