Hip Hip Hooray! (I need new ones!)

For the eighth time in three years, I’m heading back into surgery to resume the journey of getting my mobility back..

On April 1st (yes, April Fools—I wish I were kidding), I’ll be getting a total right hip replacement. My left leg was severely damaged three years ago- pelvis broken in several places, screwed back together, nerve transfer surgeries etc- and my right hip has taken all the strain since. It is now disintegrating, and the pain has been… unreal.

Even though hip replacements are considered fairly standard these days, this feels anything but easy. They’ll need to create a socket and twist my femur into a new alignment. It’s terrifying that my “good” leg is about to be operated on, while my left leg—still a hot mess of nerve damage and atrophy—has made walking painful and difficult for the last three years. For this reason, rehab is going to be brutal. Once my new hip is stable, we’ll attempt to fix the left side again (please send any doctor recs if you know magical specialists, or eccentric billionaires who want to build me robot legs).

I joke a lot, because laughing feels better than crying—but this is really, really hard. I am burnt out and I’m humbly asking for your help.

As someone who works in emergency medicine, I have been unable to fulfill the physical duties my field requires for a while now. I exhausted my disability benefits long ago (they run out?!), don’t qualify for unemployment, and navigating the U.S. healthcare system with complex issues feels like playing The Floor Is Lava—except the lava is bills and the only safe spot is bankruptcy. None of this is affordable, and the financial pressure is intense.

Whether it’s $5, a share, a recommendation for a great specialist, or just some encouragement, it all means the world to me. I am also open to additional WFH opportunities if you know of anything! And if you happen to know a nerve/muscle whisperer, an orthopedic genius, or someone with cyborg ambitions—I’m all ears (and hips).

Thank you so much for being part of this. Thank you for helping me fight for a future where I can move without pain. I can’t wait to be running around again—maybe with some robot legs?

With gratitude (and titanium),

Grace