A clean break – what a broken hip really means

You hear it all the time: ‘my mother’s broken her hip,’ ‘my aunt had a fall and broke her hip,’ ‘she’s never been the same since she broke her hip.’ Falling and breaking a hip is something that happens to older ladies. The news conjures up images of frailty, hospitalisation and walking frames. And I have to admit that, until recently, I had given little thought to this unfortunate, inconvenient and life-changing set of circumstances.

Then, on 15th May, the day before her 76th birthday, my own mother fell and broke her hip. My uncle was with her when it happened and phoned me because he couldn’t help her get up. Mother has lots of falls because she lives with Multiple Sclerosis (MS), and they sometimes result in pain and bruising, but never before had I seen her lying on the ground in pain, unable to move her legs. In a split second, everything changed – our plans for the next couple of days, our expectations for the medium term and our hopes for the long term. It took all day to get Mother into a ward, starting with the wonderful paramedics, the ambulance, the hours in A&E, x-rays and consultations. Then, the next day, the special day for which we had bought cards and presents, for which plans had been made, she was nil by mouth and waiting for a partial hip replacement.

This was just the beginning of what is unfolding as a challenging and educational journey. One of those opportunities for growth. As time moves forward both quickly and at a snail’s pace (I can’t believe it is nearly three weeks since it happened but at the same time the waiting, the watching for progress, drags moment by moment), I learn more and more about myself, about life, and about assumptions I have made in the past. Never again will I hear the words ‘broken hip’ without imagining the dramatic, wide-ranging and life-changing consequences that flow from that split second loss of footing.

Some of the things I have learned so far:

•Breaking a hip is excruciatingly painful. My mother is one of the bravest people I have ever met and deals with pain on a daily basis due to her MS. But she really needed big drags of Entonox to cope with being moved into the ambulance. Then, much later, even after a boost of morphine, I stood outside the curtains when she was being lifted into bed in the ward, and knew how much pain she must have been feeling because she couldn’t help crying out. Followed, in typical fashion, by, ‘I’m alright, I’m alright!’ which I knew was for my benefit.

•A broken hip causes far-reaching consequences. Even while Mother was still in hospital, my brother and I had to go through her house, clearing furniture out of the way, installing orthopaedic aids and ensuring strangers would be able to find essential things. Bringing her home, I had to hire a car because she wouldn’t be able to get into my Mini, and now I am unable to work in the way I normally do because of the support she needs.

•You lose privacy and dignity overnight. Of course there is all the usual hospital stuff, not being able to do anything for yourself for the first few days, but later, even when you come home, you can’t make a cup of tea with your own kettle, decide which mug you will use, pick up your own post, do anything about the dust when you notice it, look through your own clothes, be in charge of your own front door, go into your own garden, wash your own feet. Suddenly, you are a person who uses a walking frame. The list, of course, is extremely long.

•The support that is available is haphazard. Mother was really impressed with the hospital ward. She has been in hospital many times for different things, and says that she has never experienced such a high standard of nursing and kindness. We are really grateful for that. The physios and occupational therapists were also really helpful and positive. Since she’s come home, however, the promised support has not always materialised as we were told it would. We are really grateful to live in a country where there is medical treatment and care that is properly free, and where care of any kind is automatically provided, but I have learned to take with a pinch of salt the promises that a certain level or kind of service would be provided.

•If you have MS already, you really don’t want to break a hip. MS consists of a portfolio of conditions and symptoms that are different and unique for each person. My mother has a ‘bad’ MS side which is her right side. Unfortunately, she fell on her left side, breaking her ‘good’ hip. She therefore doesn’t have the advantage of a strong leg to take the lead and help support the healing one. It’s adding an unwanted extra challenge to learning to walk again. Less obvious is how difficult it is to explain to support assistants that Mother is not just recovering from a broken hip, but was severely impaired by her disability before the fall, and is now dealing with the exacerbation of her MS symptoms that we knew the anaesthetic, shock, stress and discomfort would cause.

•It is possible to deal with all the above – and more – while being cheerful, positive, humorous, grateful and concerned for others. I know this because this is exactly what my mother is doing and it means she is the easiest person to look after, help and support.

This post is the first in a series, planned to document our journey and discoveries through this unexpected experience. Just so you know, Mother is more than happy for me to write about this and reads all my posts. Like me, she feels it’s important to share what we are finding out and especially to show the positive side. Yes, there always is one; sometimes it’s harder to find, and sometimes the gift is in being willing just to look for the positives, for things to be grateful for, and that process of looking lifts our day and reminds us that life is, indeed, beautiful, regardless of the circumstances we find ourselves in.