Lucky Seven
I’ve had six surgeries in my life, all due to joint damage caused by a degenerative autoimmune disease I’ve lived with since I was 21. I’m now 55. Surgery, unfortunately, is not new territory for me.
My most recent operation was in January 2023: a revision of my right hip. The worn components were replaced—routine, relatively speaking. By then, I’d already had two hip replacements and a revision, so this was effectively my fourth hip surgery. I knew the drill. I knew the pain. I knew the recovery. Familiar territory. I healed quickly and moved forward.
This time, though, feels different.
On January 26, I’m scheduled for a reverse shoulder replacement. I’ve never had a shoulder replaced before. Last year, I underwent what I now think of as exploratory surgery on my left shoulder. The plan was to repair a torn rotator cuff, but once inside, the surgeon discovered the cuff was intact. Still, I went home with my arm in a sling for several days.
That brief experience was a wake-up call.
With one arm immobilized, I suddenly understood how fragile independence can be—especially when you live alone, as I do. So many everyday tasks become monumental. Preparing meals. Opening jars. Cutting food. Driving. Using a computer. Tying shoelaces. Zipping a jacket. Even getting dressed or using the toilet becomes an exercise in planning and patience. One hand changes everything.
Reverse Shoulder Replacement Surgery Procedure – Video
Home Alone
This upcoming surgery will be far more demanding. I’ll be in a sling for six full weeks, and this time it’s my right arm—my dominant arm—that will be immobilized. Managing daily life with only my left hand will be a challenge. Sleeping will be difficult too: the arm must remain propped and stable, no rolling onto my right side. It’s impossible not to feel deep empathy for people who live permanently without a limb. The loss of function is profound.
I explored the idea of recovering in a convalescent home, but most are now private—and prohibitively expensive. I contacted the CLSC, only to learn that services can’t be arranged in advance; the request must come directly from the hospital after surgery. So, for now, I genuinely don’t know where I’ll land once I’m discharged. There are some convalescent options available through the CLSC—but availability is uncertain. Will there be space for me? I won’t know until the moment arrives.
What I do know—thanks to testimonials from Facebook support groups—is that this surgery is painful, and recovery is slow. I’ve been prescribed an aggressive pain-management regimen: Tramadol, Lyrica, and Extra Strength Tylenol, taken together, plus an anti-inflammatory. This is on top of the Dilaudid I already take twice daily for chronic pain.
After the sling comes six months of physiotherapy. Full recovery is estimated at six to eight months, meaning that half—if not two-thirds—of 2026 will be spent healing.
My biggest concern isn’t the pain; it’s the outcome. Specifically, my range of motion. Results vary widely. Despite how damaged my shoulder joint is, I currently still have full mobility. I hope to keep that. Some patients report being unable to lift their arms above their heads. That uncertainty is hard to sit with.
To The Ones I Love
For at least six weeks, I won’t be posting much—if at all. And it may be a while before I can wrap my arms around someone I love.
Today is January 11, a date that carries particular weight for me. In the mid-1990s, I lost my godmother on January 11 while I was away vacationing in the Dominican Republic. A few years later, in 1999, I lost a very close friend who was killed in a car crash on that same day.
I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell. But every once in a while, when things feel especially heavy, I find myself reaching out to my guardian angels, asking quietly for a bit of help.
To those I love, and to everyone reading this, I’ll leave you with a beautiful ballad by Nico Paulo.
Patrick Franc - Your Friendly Neighbourhood Bionicman
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