But they do fail. The little man’s hips have been an issue for a few years now and things are quickly coming to a head.
Hip problems are fairly common for children with cerebral palsy – in the little man’s case, a mix of spastic muscles pulling on the joint and his inability to do much weight-bearing on his legs has landed him in a deteriorating situation. We are dealing with developmental hip dysplasia. Basically, one of his joints has not formed properly. The other is okay, but not great.
I’ve learned so much about hip development over the last couple of years, but I’m not a doctor and have no clue how to explain this without demonstrating with my hands. So I googled a diagram. Its like school!
The little man isn’t at the point where he is having any pain and hasn’t lost any of his already limited motion. One leg is noticeably longer than the other, it is becoming increasingly difficult to change his diapers, and his bottom half is slightly rotated. We’ve been watching it and trying other options, but the thing I have been dreading most is pretty much our only remaining option.
::sigh:: Surgery. ::sigh::
His hip hasn’t dislocated. . . yet. But without surgery he is heading for more discomfort, complications, and pain. It would also mean giving up on a future where he can stand or walk. And no, we aren’t ready to give up on that. Even just being able to stand and assist with transfers would mean a completely different life – one where he can use the restroom in privacy and ride in a regular car seat.
We are tentatively on the schedule for a hip osteotomy in January where the little man’s surgeon will go in a carve out a better socket for his femur to fit in snugly. It isn’t pleasant. On top of the awfulness of putting a child through this kind of pain when you aren’t able adequately explain what is happening to him, he will come home in a body cast for two months. It makes me sick to my stomach just to think about it and has since we first learned about the possibility from our surgeon in Arkansas.
We’ve always had great doctors and a great team. I trust them. I know we are making the right decision, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Surgery won’t be final until we have a massive team meeting in September. I guess if you don’t have a loved one with a major disability or other illness, you might not quite understand what I mean by “team”. It isn’t an exaggeration. No less than 12 people will be involved this meeting, including the husband and I. No decisions are made alone. Thankfully.