Between Procedures

I had intended to post this entry a few weeks ago for the one year anniversary of the frame's removal on the first Friday of May, 2013. It was to be a sunny commemorative occasion celebrating the wonders of spring in central Virginia where I attend college and the joys not having a giant metal frame stuck to your leg. I would have talked about the bits of post-frame life which went well (such not having a frame stuck to my leg and swimming most days) and the parts of post-frame life which went less well (such as a bone growth above my right leg which waged war against my swimming).

I'm not really sure what there is to say on that subject right now, to be honest. The marks the frame left are not subtle. My leg is covered in nice, vivid scars. Honestly, I don't mind them that much. They're not attractive, but I don't think they're particularly unattractive, either. In a bizarre sense, I'm proud of them. They're unique and, besides, they're a whole lot better than a network of pins jutting out from my skin.

On a slightly tangential note, the thing I've found really interesting about having the frame gone is that it took me almost no time to switch from "hey, I've got pins sticking out of my skin and this isn't that weird and they're actually kind of fun to prod at when I have nothing better to do" to "I feel kind of sick at the thought of metal pins traveling from my bones out my skin to the great outdoors." So about post-frame life: it's awfully easy, with the device gone, to revert to the pre-frame mentality of "how can somebody bear to have one of those things stuck in their body?"

And that's my contribution on not having a frame attached to your leg (also, it's nice being able to do all the activities I couldn't do with the frame (i.e., anything which is not sitting down/walking/lying down)).

But that's not really the gist of this post.

Headed into the frame, I had thought that it would be my final surgery, at least for a very long while. That thought was more of a coping mechanism than it was anything else. I remember being really, really scared of the frame before it went on. I struggled to focus on other things (namely college applications) which faded in scariness compared to the metal brace. So I told myself that it was okay, this was the end of the road, allowing for possible distant-future surgeries to repair my hypothetically sure-to-need-repair senior citizen body.

Of course, it was more or less delusional to think that this would be it and there was definitely a part of me which was aware that there was a strong chance that there would be more surgeries after the frame.

You're probably noticing that I'm dancing around the issue which is really bothering me. I could go back and fix this in editing, but that feels dishonest. So I'm going to take a breath and dive into the rest of this post.

Once more, I'm scared. And I'm not scared because I know that there's something immediate and scary on the horizon, like a potentially painful metal frame. And I'm not scared because I'm a liberal arts major with no clue what he wants to do with his life (still working on that) who overcompensates by refusing to accept any glimmers of failure in himself.

You know, I think I'm going to back up a little bit (I promise it gets more linear from this point on). I can remember, when I was younger, when my family still lived in Virginia, getting curious about my condition, multiple osteochondromas. I asked my parents if I could look it up on the Internet. They said no* and I wondered if they were trying to keep me from finding something out.

I went for a while not knowing what else there was to the condition beyond bone spurs and shortened growth plates. I'm trying to remember what particular issue brought it to light, or if there was even a particular issue at all, but perhaps a year ago I found out that there was something else to the condition: in some patients, some bone growths, particularly those around the pelvic region, develop into cancer. I didn't think anything of it when my surgeon warned me about this part of the condition. My attitude was that, if it came to that, it came to that, and I could worry about things then.

A week ago, I went in for a semi-routine checkup with the surgeon. I knew, headed in, that there were some growths I wanted looked at. There was one on my left leg which has caused pain and tingling. There was one above my right knee which had spent the past few months insisting that swimming (and stairs and walking certain distances) was unsavory.

Then there was the issue with wearing a belt.

After the frame, the first thing I started doing was exercising. In the beginning, it was riding the bike, then swimming. Long story short, I lost a good deal of weight and dropped a few pant sizes. Being a college student with a limited capacity to dwell on clothes shopping, I solved the problem of having too-large pants by just wearing a belt (also, occasional sweatpants).

I wore the belt somewhat regularly, forgetting it a bit more than every once in a while. After a while, I realized it was starting to hurt a bone growth on my hip, so I got a new, softer cloth belt. That worked for a while, but eventually started to hurt as well.

My father suggested that I bring up the issue with the surgeon. Which I did.

He looked rather alarmed that I hadn't said something immediately. Which was when I learned that the bone growth which didn't like the belt was a prime contender to become cancerous.

The three bone growths (right knee, left leg, hip) are scheduled to be removed July 15 at some unthinkably early hour of the morning. The surgery sounds fairly uninvolved, at least compared to last time. The biggest concern is the left left bone growth, which lies dangerously close to the parietal nerve. Apparently a neurosurgeon will assist in the removal of that growth to protect the nerve. The other two bone growths ought to be removed fairly quietly. No bones are getting sawed in half. No hardware is being implanted into my body.

Recovery, too, sounds pretty straightforward. I will be allowed to bear weight immediately, though will probably use a walker for two to seven days. I should be mostly back at full capacity within two weeks, then operating at full capacity within four to six. I'm honestly not too worried. I made it through the frame; the odds of this recovery being anywhere near as extensive are minimal.

The much scarier thought is the concept that I might have cancer or might be at a stage where one of these growths could develop into cancer. Now, to be perfectly clear, I don't think I have cancer. I think I simply have a bone growth which bruised when exposed to the relatively new and unique phenomenon (for me) of a belt.

But…it is in the right place. And, to be honest, it's not this growth I'm worried about. It's been less than a week since the appointment, so I'm hyper-vigilant, on the watch for any aches and pains which might alert me that something's going awry. This will pass, and I'll be glad when it does. Right now, I sometimes get to thinking about the hip and then it hurts, right in the spot I don't want it to, and it doesn't go away until I get up and move and do something to take my mind off it. I'm pretty sure the phenomenon is nothing more than my worried imagination flaring up into overdrive. And, even if there is something in there that needs to get taken out, it's going to be taken out. I am okay and I will continue to be okay.

At which point we enter into the realm of other possibilities. Because if one of these growths turns nasty, I honestly don't know if I'd notice. I mean, I'd notice, but then I'd probably come up with a thousand other excuses and a behavioral modification or two before realizing I ought to go to the doctor's. And maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I honestly don't know if I'd catch it in the early stages. The doctor emphasized the need to catch these things early if they do develop (and there's absolutely no guarantee they will and I'm going to choose to believe that they won't). I'm just not sure I'm the person you'd want to be on the lookout for these symptoms.

I know I just need to take a nice, deep breath and relax. The odds that I have cancer are miniscule. I have an excellent orthopedic surgeon. I am, all in all, quite healthy. Before too long, my most troublesome bone growths will be out of my body and will cause no more trouble. I no longer need to have a frame on my leg. I can walk. And, you know what, that's really something, and I'm truly grateful.

But right now, I am a bit scared.

* I'm not sure I would have found anything if they said yes—I honestly have no clue how you spell multiple osteochondromas or if it's even called multiple osteochondromas in the first place; I've heard different things, none of which I can recall at the moment.