Eight days from now, on November 3rd, I’ll be back in an operating room getting my left hip replaced.
This is my second one. I already had my right hip done, so you’d think this would be easier. You’d think knowing what to expect would calm the nerves.
You’d be wrong.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not panicking. But there’s something about counting down the days that makes you think about things. And since I started this blog to have the conversations men don’t usually have, I figured I’d talk about what’s actually going through my head right now.
Eight days from now, on November 3rd, I’ll be back in an operating room getting my left hip replaced.
This is my second one. I already had my right hip done, so you’d think this would be easier. You’d think knowing what to expect would calm the nerves.
THE PHYSICAL PREP
The practical stuff is straightforward enough. I’ve been going through the checklist:
Get the house ready. Move things I’ll need to the main floor because stairs are going to be my enemy for a while. Set up a recovery station—chair with good support, everything within arm’s reach. Stock up on easy meals because cooking isn’t happening for the first couple weeks.
I’m still working right up until the surgery. Some people think that’s crazy, but honestly? Staying busy helps. Sitting around thinking about it for weeks would drive me nuts.
The physical therapy beforehand helps too. Strengthening the muscles around the hip, getting the body as ready as possible. It’s like training for something you know is going to hurt—but you do it anyway because it makes the other side easier.
I’ve done this before, so I know the drill. But that doesn’t make it feel routine.
THE MENTAL GAME
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about the second time around: you remember.
With the first hip replacement, there was some naivety. Some optimism born from not knowing what recovery actually feels like. You hear “6-8 weeks recovery” and think, “Okay, I can handle that.”
Then you live it. And you realize recovery isn’t linear. Some days you feel great, like you’re ahead of schedule. Other days you can’t believe this is the same body. The pain, yeah—but also the exhaustion. The frustration of not being able to do simple things. The weird dependency on other people that men my age really don’t like admitting we need.
So going into round two, I know what’s coming. And that’s both good and bad.
Good because I won’t be surprised. Bad because… well, I won’t be surprised.
The thoughts at 3am are different this time. Less “what if something goes wrong” and more “here we go again.” Less fear, more resignation. Which sounds depressing, but it’s actually more honest.
I’m 67. This is what bodies do. They wear out. Parts need replacing. I can either accept that or fight reality, and fighting reality is exhausting.
WHAT I’VE LEARNED
The first hip replacement taught me things I didn’t want to learn but needed to.
Like how bad I am at asking for help. I’ve spent decades being the one who handles things, who doesn’t need anything from anyone. Surgery strips that away real fast. You need help getting dressed. Help getting up from a chair. Help with things you’ve done independently since you were three years old.
That’s humbling. And necessary.
I also learned that recovery takes longer than they tell you. Not because they’re lying—but because “back to normal” means different things. Sure, you might be walking without a cane at 8 weeks. But “back to normal” in terms of energy, in terms of feeling like yourself again? That took me months, not weeks.
Nobody tells you that part. They focus on the milestones—walking, driving, returning to work. But they don’t talk about the fatigue that hangs around. The mental adjustment of accepting that your body is different now. The weird reality that you’re better than you were (the old hip was bone-on-bone and miserable) but you’re also… different.
This time, I know that going in. And I’m giving myself permission to actually recover, not just survive it.
WHY I’M WRITING THIS
I’m documenting this whole thing—the prep, the surgery, the recovery—because I wish someone had done it when I went through this the first time.
Not the sanitized version. Not the “everything’s fine, I’m already back to normal” version. The real one.
If you’re facing surgery—hip replacement or anything else—I want you to know what it’s actually like. The good days and the rough ones. The progress and the setbacks. The mental game as much as the physical one.
And if you’re not facing surgery but you’re dealing with the reality of an aging body, of limitations you didn’t used to have, of the weird grief that comes with losing the physical abilities you took for granted—I’m talking to you too.
This is what “Let’s Talk About It” is about. The conversations men over 60 need to have but usually don’t.
So I’ll check back in after November 3rd and let you know how it went. In the meantime, if you’re going through something similar, drop a comment. Let’s actually talk about it.
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