I had my total hip revision surgery just over 1 week ago. It’s been a full-on week or so, as I start to recover from a major surgery.

This is not my first hip surgery.  Born with bilateral hip dysplasia (DDH) in 1971, orthopaedic surgery has been a regular cadence throughout my life.  As I child, I had several surgeries to finally get me walking by the age of 3 and a half, a femoral plate removed when I was 7, a leg lengthening surgery aged 16, a total hip replacement (THR) aged 32, a knee replacement at 50 and now this revision on my original THR.  

I had my surgery at the elective orthopaedic centre (SWLEOC) at Epsom Hospital in June 2025.   

The morning of surgery

I had to be at hospital for 7am and I’d been fasting since the night before.  I had a big glass of water at 6am then nothing.  I showered in the same special wash I’d been using for the last 3 days. Despite my hunger, the journey was calm and uneventful as my partner drove me there. Heading for major surgery is a weird feeling, not unfamiliar to me.  I know it’s what I need, and have been waiting for it, yet it’s scary.  All the what ifs and risks are bubbling under the surface, and just that feeling that I’m about to put myself through intentional pain and trauma is unnatural.

Along with 6 other patients, my partner and I were taken up to pre theatre.  It was unexpected and reassuring he could come with me – my last surgery was just past covid so no visitors were allowed at all.  It helped to have a friendly face there, someone who loves me.  I gowned up, had the usual pre op checks to make sure I was fit enough, ensure no infections, scratches or bruises.  They drew a big arrow on my leg and wrote LEFT on it for good measure!  

The anaesthetist visited and explained it would be a spinal pain management with a sedative, rather than full general anaesthetic.  For me this was good news – I have never reacted too well to the GA hangover. He inserted a cannula in my arm so they could take blood and to later  administer the meds.  He then listed all the side effects and risks, as they must for informed consent.  And then something new happened.  The room started spinning, I got dizzy and hot, and I fainted.  Next I knew was my partner telling them I don’t like masks on my face, as I came round.  It’s called a vasovagal response but to you and me, it’s fainting.  It’s a common feature of my previous post-surgery journeys because my blood pressure is naturally low. But I’ve never done it pre-op before.  First time for everything!

They put me back on the bed and I was quickly back to normal.  The staff reassured me that it’s quite common and all good.  My surgeon arrived, which was reassuring as he’s been my consultant since 2002.  He explained the hip revision surgery again, showed me a diagram of the hip joint that’s been built, and said I was first up in theatre so not long to wait.  It would be 4-5 hours and I might lose blood and need transfusions.  He also reminded me it’s going to be a long recovery where I need to be slow and steady, not take any risks for the first six weeks, until the new hip sets in place.  He confirmed I will be weight-bearing with crutches but need modified exercises due to the much higher risk of a revision dislocating and the need for the joint to set in place.

Before 9am I said goodbye to my partner, and was wheeled in a chair to theatre. The scene when I arrived was actually fascinating – like a scene from a movie, with lots of people in the background in blue hazmat style suits readying things!  I recognised the anaesthetist team, who asked me to transfer to the operating table, undid my gown at the back, asked  me to lay on my non operating side then hooked my cannula up to the drugs machine.  First anti sickness” says the anaesthetist.  OK now the sedative.”  I asked ‘should I be feeling sleepy?. He says yes.  And that’s all I remember.

The afternoon – coming round in PACU

I think I remember them first bringing me round in theatre, I have an image of a few people in gowns/masks looking at me and saying hello, including the surgeon.  The next thing I remember is being in PACU, with a two lovely smiley nurses, Pam and Suzy, telling me where I was and that they were looking after me.  I was hooked up to fluids and they explained that I also had an arterial line on the other side so they can take bloods regularly to check my haemoglobin levels.  They gave me my phone and I messaged my partner to say Hallo and sent a selfie, so he knew I was OK and could let my sister and colleagues know.  This was at 2pm.  The surgery had taken 4.5 hours.

Regular observations (obs) of my blood pressure, temperature, oxygen levels continued.  I had some water, a cup of tea and some toast which was heaven. They asked me to wiggle my toes, see if I could lift my legs, and seemed happy.  I had no pain, the epidural was still attached and would be all night. And then I almost, but didn’t fully faint, to add a bit of drama.  Once again it was over quickly with some oxygen and a big fan (which has become a staple post-surgery friend for me). 

The anaesthetist and my surgeon both visited me.  They were un-fazed by my fainting – long surgery, lost some blood, I’m lightweight, and I’d been fasting.

My consultant orthopaedic surgeon explained that the surgery went to plan, so he was happy.  He reminded me it remains very fragile in there – I have so little pelvis on that side in the first place to work with.  And he reiterated no risks at all, slow and steady for 6 weeks, just focus on letting the bone and metal joint bond so it gets nice and secure. He reminded me only to walk with crutches, no twisting, carrying, crossing my legs or over rotating the hip, and be hyper-aware of my precaution height – the lowest furniture I’m allowed to sit on so I don’t end up bending to to 90 degrees or more.  More on this in a future blog because, frankly, it’s quite limiting!!

My partner came to visit about 4pm.  I heard him coming down the corridor, and it was the happiest thing to see his face and get a big kiss. It was lovely to chat, although I expect I made no sense whatsoever (nothing new there he’d say!!).  He brought pics of Dudley, our cat, saying hello 🙂    I had sandwiches and a protein shake. 

Obs continued throughout the evening, once my legs were better thawed they hooked pain meds into my epidural.  Then I was sick so they gave me anti sickness injections and fluids.  They had to keep spraying my legs, waist and trunk with an ice spray, to test what I could feel below and above my waist whilst the epidural was still in – to make sure that any spinal pain relief was not creeping up my body as that could impact my breathing. The regularity of my obs was a reassuring drumbeat.

The evening – a long night of intermittent sleep, pain, meds

As the evening progressed, many of the people who were in the waiting room with me that morning were mobilised up onto crutches and left either to go home, or down onto the ward.  I remember this from my first hip replacement where as the youngest (but also the most complex) I had taken a few days to mobilise whilst all the 70+ patients were whizzing around on crutches on the same day!!

That first night I stayed in PACU.  I had a new nurse called Andrew overnight who looked out for me and a couple of other patients all night. With regular obs, ice sprays, anti-sickness and other drugs, and the fan on all night to help keep my temperature stable.  My legs slowly thawed – ironically it was the non-operated leg and ankle that was the last to regain all feeling some time the following day.

And just like that, hour by hour, me and my new hip made it into day 1 post op.  I could not be more grateful for the care and good humour of all the staff at SWLEOC Epsom Hospital pre and post op that day.  Friendly people, amazing professionals. Thank you all so much.

I made it through that first day.  And now the post hip-revision journey begins.

More to follow in a few days…..thanks for reading the blog!  Love to you all xx

Jill Pringle was born with bilateral hip dysplasia (DDH) in 1971.  She writes this blog to share her experiences of walking and living with this common disability.