Puerto Vallarta, Mexico
Dressed for the Journey
November 2 started with a hotel shuttle ride to the airport. Once we got there, we ran into a woman from our own hometown who was headed off on a cruise. When she heard where we were headed, she was just as excited for us.
She was excited. Cruise with friends, vacation mode, the whole thing. And I loved that for her, because we were excited, too. Every bit as much.
We were just excited for a very different reason.
She was headed for a cruise ship. We were headed for surgery. Same level of excitement, very different itineraries.
I had dressed with great care that morning, mostly with one goal in mind: keeping my leg warm. I was not taking any chances with that leg.
Dallas was a long wait. I couldn't walk around and explore, which made it feel even longer, so I mostly just sat there and waited.
The flights themselves were smooth. My pain was not.
I struggled through both of them. I spent much of that time clinging to John as though he could somehow make the pain stop. He couldn't, of course. But he did something almost as good. He helped me hide just how uncomfortable I really was.
That's the kind of help you don't forget.
I was also fasting for bloodwork that day, which was one more challenge on top of the pain and the travel itself.
Hector, a Condo, and Dr. Rosas
We landed in Puerto Vallarta around noon and met our driver, Hector. He took us to the condo, we changed clothes, and then we went straight to testing.
That's where I finally met Dr. Rosas in person.
Plan Upon Plan
Here's what I learned in that first meeting. Dr. Rosas had plan upon plan.
He had prepared multiple surgical approaches. If he needed donor bone, it was ready. And if nothing else worked, there was cement, a last resort. He had even thought through how that last option could complicate removing anything in the future.
That is a man who had thought about my leg long before I ever arrived.
Then he reviewed my testing, and he changed the date. My surgery had been planned for November 5. He moved it to November 3, so I would have more recovery time here.
I had come to Mexico for a Thursday surgery. I was now having a Tuesday one.
Funny how fast a plan can change when someone is looking at the whole picture.
Tuesday: The Courage to Ask
I arrived for surgery on Tuesday morning.
I remember being rolled into the operating room. Everywhere I looked there were faces I didn't know, and a few language barriers added to the mix.
I was afraid.
And in the middle of that fear, I wanted to pray over the people who were about to operate on me. But it took everything I had to work up the courage to ask whether I could.
They agreed.
Wednesday: The News
Wednesday brought the news we had been waiting for. The surgery was an exceptional success.
We had been told that a typical surgery takes around 40 minutes. Because of how complex my situation was, we were told to expect two to three hours. My surgery took about one hour.
No blood transfusion. No additional hardware. No new fractures. My left leg needed to be shortened, and my legs are now close to the same length.
Now, I want to be careful here, because there's a second piece of news and the two can sound alike.
Dr. Rosas explained that the fracture we had been concerned about in my imaging had actually healed, but it had healed incorrectly during the long delay before surgery. My left leg had healed pointing outward. The unusual line in the imaging was that healing, not a new fracture. It also helped explain the pain I had been feeling in that area.
So, to be clear: no new fractures during surgery, and an old one that had healed the wrong way.
Thursday: Learning to Trust My Leg
Physical therapy started on Thursday.
Here's the surprising part. This isn't simply about getting stronger. My leg has strength.
What my body has spent years learning is that my left leg isn't safe to put weight on. For years, that was the lesson. Now I'm learning new movement patterns, and I'm learning how to trust that leg again.
It turns out you can't just tell a body to forget something it learned for years.
So we're working on it, one step at a time.
Gates, Groceries, and Doritos
Not everything about this trip has been medical. Some of the best parts caught us completely by surprise.
The condo has very strict gated security. That sounds great, until you try to order food and can't understand the questions being asked. Hector rescued us by taking us grocery shopping.
He also encouraged us to explore the differences between familiar foods in Mexico and the United States. We took that assignment seriously.
We found fresh bakery items. Fresh juice. And then there were the Doritos. They reminded me of how chips used to taste in the US. I don't even normally like Doritos, and I want to bring some home.
John's Dr Pepper tasted different to him. To me, it tasted like my childhood.
Iguana Time
We're overlooking the 18th hole of a golf course, and every afternoon, at least six iguanas come out to find their favorite sunny spots.
We call it Iguana Time.
I look forward to it every day. There are turtles in the pond. There are sunsets over the mountains. It has become part of how I'm recovering, a little rhythm of beauty I get to count on in the afternoons.
These are the little moments where I can clearly see God's work.
Finally Heard
There is one more thing, and it matters more to me than I can easily say.
I have had years of difficult medical experiences. Years of trying to explain what was happening in my body and not being sure anyone was truly listening.
Dr. Rosas listened.
After all of that, to have a doctor genuinely listen to me is something I don't take lightly.
It meant a great deal.
The Story Is Still Unfolding
Surgery went exceptionally well, and getting to this point was an enormous milestone. I'm celebrating it, because it took so much to get here.
Recovery brings a different kind of work. There's a leg to retrain, a body to reassure, and a lot more story to tell.
So this isn't an ending. It's the first page of the next chapter.
I'll keep you posted, iguanas and all.
