When the hip “expert” from Austin suggested I return to my original surgeon in Mexico to have the hardware removed from my leg, a voice in my head knew it wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
It’s one of those times that I didn’t want to be right. I knew that my surgeon was on the conservative side. I guess at 74 (me not him) that’s not a bad thing.
September will be the two year anniversary of my accident. Doc wants to wait until then and reassess. My disappointment must have showed because he agreed to do it immediately if I wanted. No, I’ll wait.
So that’s where we stand, putting off the removal of the plate and screws in my leg until September. I guess I can wait four and a half months. Better safe than….
After reading both CT and MRI scans, an orthopedic surgeon that we know and respect, announced “hip replacement.” He said it was my only option. My accidentin September 2024 really did a number on me.
While most medical procedures are less expensive in Mexico than in the US; the price he quoted made my head swim. Apparently the reconstruction hardware is quite pricey.
After speaking to a number of people who have had hip replacement (including my brother), and doing my internet research, I became hopeful that there might be a solution to my chronic pain.
I made an appointment with a hip specialist in Austin and traveled to the US where I have insurance. I did NOT expect the outcome that I got.
Dr Matthew Heinrich
Dr. Heinrich asked me to walk. As I hobbled and winced around his office, he said, “point to the pain.” My hand went immediately to the five inch (12cm) scar on the outside of my left leg. Without hesitation he announced, “you don’t need hip replacement, just take out the hardware.”
The scar healed well.
What? How? My head spun.
He advised that I return to the original surgeon to have the screws and plate removed. “It’s completely healed. I expect you’ll have 75% of capacity return to your leg.”
I am not sure why neither orthopedic surgeon in Mexico suggested that option. I have an appointment on Tuesday to see what’s what and hopefully schedule part dos. The adventure continues.
They say that a life without regrets is a life well lived. I’m not so sure about that. Looking back on my seventy-four years, there are a few things I wish I had done differently.
A graduate degree at 42.
When I was getting my Master’s degree at the University of Texas in 1996, my professor suggested that I continue for a PhD. She liked my research and thought I could parlay it into a dissertation. Without question I said no. I was too scared. It was a bigger vision than I could imagine for myself. I was raised in a time when women were given very low expectations.
Another time I was offered the position of manager for the clinic where I worked. Again, I turned it down. I had never been a “manager” (only of a home, and three kids, all while attending graduate school full-time.) I wish someone had offered me help, training and a boost to my self confidence.
As a woman of a certain era, I fought hard for every opportunity. I was the only girl of five children, and the only one to graduate from college, bought and paid for by myself.
It was impossible not to let the fear rule me. Fear was built into every story I was told, every underestimation, every time I was reminded that my place was in the home.
So yes I have a few regrets.
Living in paradise.
Today I am content with the way things turned out. I have an amazing partner, a beautiful home and a peaceful existence. If I had done any of the things I now regret, it might have turned out quite differently.
Portland 2025
So truthfully I have no regrets. At least that’s what I tell myself.
“Reduce swelling, eliminate wrinkles, lift sagging lids, here let me show you how.”
A sample size age reversal.
I was winding my way through Cancún airport when this gorgeous woman came on strong (it’s been years since I’ve been able to say that!)
Before I could bat a puffy lid, she was dabbing something under one eye and pushing a mirror at me to demonstrate the “miraculous” difference.
Of course I couldn’t see a thing and not because it didn’t work, although I have my doubts but because I’m blind without my glasses.
Looking myself in the eye.
With flawless skin and perfect English she thrust a sample in my hand and continued her siren’s song, inviting me to her counter to experience an age defying miracle. My response,
“I don’t care!”
She looked confused. “But don’t you want to…look younger?”
When I looked younger.
“Nope. I’m good.”
She sputtered as I walked away. Actually I wheeled away, as my walking days are currently on hiatus.
I think I retired with the money I have NOT spent on beauty supplies. For giggles I looked up her products. They started at $400 and added a one on the front for moisture and glow.
This was the cheap stuff.
For me, making peace with aging starts in the mirror. The sagging skin and thickening middle defy all effort to change. And believe me I’ve tried. At this point it’s appearance zero, health everything. So I’ll keep my wrinkles and my money, thank you very much! “I DON’T CARE.
Long before grandmothers ran marathons, Nan would show up at our house in New Jersey, unannounced. We knew she arrived when her car pulled into our long country drive. “Nan’s here!” We were excited. It was a time before internet and cell phones. As the matriarch I guess she never felt the need to let us know she was coming. Sometimes she stayed for months.
My grandmother in her youth.
Nan drove well into her eighties and would tell us often that the worse day of her life was when my uncle took her car keys. She was a traveling fool, visiting here and there while waving to the truck drivers. She carried all her worldly possessions in her trunk (boot for you Brits).
One day Nan arrived and announced her intention to drive from New Jersey to Florida to visit family. She whisked me away to keep her company on the long drive to Miami. I was a lanky twelve year old. My parents never thought to tell her no.
Underwater extravaganza.
I was mesmerized at Weeki Wachee State Park where to this day mermaids breathe underwater through skinny tubes and perform somersaults with long hair floating behind them.
We also took a boat ride along the Florida coast to stare agog at enormous seaside mansions that defied reality. Our reality for sure.
Nan bought me sunglasses!
My grandmother was born in 1896. She was labeled rebellious when to everyone’s horror she divorced my grandfather. My mother told stories of packing up her three siblings and moving in the middle of the night when they couldn’t pay the rent. Nan later lived with a man for ten years whom she never married. I remember him. She was an independent woman who unapologetically forged her own way.
The many faces of my grandmother 1896-1990
Her name was Alicia Wade Marder. It is important that we tell womens’ stories. She was my grandmother and she shaped my life in ways I’m still discovering. This is for my grandchildren, so they know their history. Love you Nan.
Nobody wants to read about old women doing amazing things but you should, if you’re lucky it could be to you.
Happy birthday Alice 82
My conservative, republican mother-in-law moved to Mexico to live with her ex-military lesbian daughter and her older wife. It’s been one hellava ride.
Alice’s 80 birthday
Alice is now eighty-two and living large in her own tiny jungle home.
Her house is a museum. She’s never seen a knickknack, or doll, or pair of shoes, or jewelry…that she doesn’t love. When her clothes washer recently died, her main concern for a new one was that it had to be pretty. She now owns a red washing machine.
A tour of Alice’s artistic bathroom. Who loves to have her picture taken?
Alice survived Covid and RSV (a respiratory virus) both of which put her in the hospital. She has more lives than a cat. She sets an amazing example of resiliency and living life on your own terms and we’re so lucky to have her with us.
Waking up daily in the jungle of southeastern Mexico is a dream for some and a reality for me. Depending on the time of year, the sun clears the horizon and hits me right in the eyeball in bed! Then there’s the cacophony of birds, (doves, parakeets, brown jays, chachalacas and more). The sound of the teapot heating water for coffee and dogs demanding “outside” and their breakfast, is also part of the wake-up call. It does beat an alarm.
Rise and shine.
The morning routine continues with a trip to the roof to practice my version of sun salutations and a quick check on the baby birds who are almost as big as their parents and will be flying the coop soon enough. I will miss them
The roof sanctuary. They’re doves, not pigeons 😂
I lean into my morning routine with meditation, exercise and vacuuming up the dog glitter left on our blue concrete floors.
The shedding maniacs.
There are so many possibilities for surprises in my day-to-day life, such as this week alone, smelling gas from the new stove, threats of severe weather, a trip to get MRIs for me and Lisa, and health concerns with Lisa’s mom who is 82. Morning routine is the anchor of my life.
Sometimes art just shows up. Not sure where this came from.
Having recently been diagnosed with anxiety, I scheduled a massage and gave a massage (I am a massage therapist) both of which got me out of my head. Getting a massage has been a way that I have dealt with anxiety in the past. Time for a reboot.
More art. Lots of circles.Postcard sized paintings. Touch to enlarge.
I am still playing my ukulele (badly) and furiously making art. It’s good to have a plan. And then I try to be aware of all that I have to be grateful for. There’s just so much. This blog and my community here are included. Thank you for showing up, leaving comments and hanging with me through the ups and downs. I appreciate it more than you can know.
However you cut it, living with pain is not fun. For those of you who have been dealing with chronic pain for years or even a lifetime, my sympathies. If you have never experienced chronic pain, read on, life turns on a dime at any age. At seventy-four I am new to the game and surprised by it.
Life drawing class provides a lovely distraction.
I’ve learned that pain medication is a god-sent but a double edged sword. Even thinking about it makes me want to sleep (or cry.)
Medication handles the pain so I can exercise, walk or be halfway human. I have to be careful however because it can also eats holes in my stomach.
Models choose some interesting props.
So if you are waiting patiently for the doctor’s pronouncement, drum roll please…HIP REPLACEMENT. Yes the old hip is in pieces and barely able to keep me upright. An appointment has been made for yet another opinion and hopefully to schedule surgery, April 23 in Austin. Finally time to take advantage of all that health insurance I worked so hard for.
I added color later.
Until then, the meds keep it tolerable, as does my artwork. Carry on.
DOS TORTAS
My gastroenterologist has declared that my stomach pain is due to anxiety. And now I understand.
Take a peak this week into the lives of retired lesbians living in the jungle of southeast Mexico.
Lovely sunrise view from our roof.Full moon and lunar eclipse.
It’s been a bustling week which included an early morning lunar eclipse, a visit from our friend Michelle, and annual doctors’ check-ups (ortho, gastro, dermo and pulmo). Getting old is a full time job.
Stella loves Auntie Michelle
Michelle adds sparkle. She is an avid bird watcher, lovely conversationalist and pitches in with Mom, the dogs and household tasks. No drama just life divided by three instead of two.
Identified by our bird App this week on the roof.Lots of colorful visitors.
One doctor’s visit was particularly helpful, a second opinion on my leg. I went for a scan and will return on Monday to come up with a plan. He said I should not be in this much pain a year and a half later. I left hopeful.
Hopefully there is more bone growth since this last xray in December.
Unfortunately Michelle has returned home but the mental health break she gave us provided respite and a vow to take better care of ourselves, as we all need to do.
Celebrating my birthday is not optional for me. Since I am not a big fan of the usual fawning, gift buying and everything that goes with it, I make a plan for what works for ME. This year I bought tickets to see Shakira in Merida, Yucatán. My wife played a supporting role so I didn’t have to worry about the details. We had a blast, learned a lot and were not awakened by dogs at six am.
Returning home to Bacalar, I found myself exhausted, (it’s amazing how vacations can be so tiring) with little motivation for anything, especially exercise. I used every excuse under the sun to deflect, sidetrack and put off. However, my education and lifelong interest as a Health Educator means I knew better. Time to do better.
My triathlon days. If only I had that energy today.
Back in the day, when counseling was my paid gig, I was a broken record. “Walk! Just walk, 15 minutes. Put on “X” on the calendar. Increase frequency, then increase time. Keep track, you can do it!”
People’s excuses were consistent, no time and I don’t like exercise. But leading the pack was, EXERCISE HURTS. My pat answer was, “it hurts if you do and it hurts if you don’t”.
And now I find myself in the, but it hurts camp. Pain can be a good motivator but so can lying in bed.
This week, I came across a clip on my YouTube channel from a trainer I used to follow during Covid quarantine, many moons ago.
the adventures of dos tortas 
Share Your Thoughts