sunshine & rainbows

Tragically Hip

February 2, 2026February 11, 2026 quillankellydunn

Now.. this is a story all about how…
My life got flipped, turned upside down…And I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there and I’ll tell you how I became a hobbling mom cuz life’s not fair…🤣

I mentioned in my last blog about a hip labrum repair and impingement surgery I had mid-September 2025…

Well as Murphy’s law would have it, things did not go as planned. Thought I would share this story to prevent other people from suffering the same consequences. (You’re welcome)

I really liked the initial doctor who I was seeing since May 2025 and he completed my cortisone shot on July 3rd. He referred me to the head surgeon in the office for further treatment. I also enjoyed all the female staff who worked there.

One employee, Jill, was so funny and down to earth, I would leave with sore cheeks from laughing so hard. I considered asking her to go out for drinks sometime.

Me to Jill: Did we just become best friends?

However when I’m met the surgeon, I was disappointed. My initial thought was “he’s a douche bag.” I was not impressed with his handshake, demeanor or bedside manner. I ignored my first impression because I liked the staff so much.

The Surgery took place on September 17, 2025. I had one X-ray post surgery in the office, on September 30th. The Douchebagsurgeon (DBS) said everything looked good. I followed up with DBS six weeks after surgery, 10/28/25 and he told me I could stop wearing the brace. I continued with my daily exercises and PT twice a week.

I weaned off the brace, but I was still in significant pain and I thought I was walking weird.

I followed up with the DBS again on November 7th, advising him that something was wrong. DBS completed a physical exam and said to stretch and ice more. He did not take another X-ray.

I called the office November 25th advising them that I fell onto the toilet (because now my right leg gave out- it was getting sore from doing all the work). They scheduled me for an appointment on December 9th.

When my family witnessed the way I was walking on Thanksgiving…

They strongly advised I get a second opinion. I scheduled an appointment with a recommended physician. The soonest available was January 5th, 2026.

On December 9th, the DBS advised that I was experiencing muscular pain from my piriformis area and I could get a cortisone shot by his partner. DBS still didn’t take another X-ray.

The cortisone shot doctor was so empathetic and I felt heard. He was like “Guurrrlll, what are gonna do about this hip!?”

I’m serious, he really said that.

He took an X-ray of my back to make sure everything was ok and gave me the shot on December 12th.

After about a week, the piriformis area pain subsided. Instead, I began to feel more pain in the area that I had the surgery. At PT, they suggested I begin using a cane temporarily.

This is how I was walking for real…definitely not doing a somersault thou.

There was never a discussion about the use of a cane before the surgery. PT said that a setback is normal and I worked harder, silently crying doing exercises.

Now my husband was getting pissed watching me walk and said he will come with me to next appointment.

I demanded an urgent appointment on December 23rd.

I laid on the table for my usual bullshit exam and I said my leg is shorter than the other. The DBS was especially dickish about it. He whipped out the tape measure with an attitude like “I’ll show you.” He said it was only a centimeter off and that’s normal.

I advised that I cannot put weight on my left leg and I keep walking on the ball of my foot, not bending my knee. My husband inquired about this. DBS states to my husband, “SHE wasn’t walking like this last time.”

I reply, “uh, yes I was!”

Again no X-ray.

So I spent the holidays using a cane. It turned out to be a big hit with my nieces and nephews.

I hobble along through the new year, and attend my second opinion appointment on the first Monday of 2026.

I gear up for the usual explanations:

“You have to be patient, recovery takes time, sometimes 5-8 months….”

Within minutes of arriving at the University of Chicago orthopedic center, I am brought back to receive X-rays. They not only did an X-ray standing up, but lying down in various positions.

I meet Dr. Sherwin Ho….

Dr. Ho listens to me for about ten minutes, clearly already aware of what’s wrong.

He states “You aren’t crazy. Your hip socket is completely collapsed. You now have a condition called avascular necrosis (AVN). The only solution is a hip replacement.”

I said “I feel like my leg is shorter than the other”, he replies “that’s because it is! About a half-inch at least!”

I see his female colleague on January 15th. She advised “I do not know what caused the AVN, but if I saw your MRI from June 2025; I would have advised a hip replacement then. You will be walking the day of the surgery and it is a very active recovery.”

Hallefuckinglujah.

I leave with a folder filled with packets of information. This is where the anger and humiliating hindsight kicks in.

Example one: Pre-and-post surgery last year, I received one piece of paper in a folder. There was no official pre-op appointment, brace was not explained. (I just woke up with a brace on after surgery and the box to take home and read myself.) I had to rely on PT who informed me of what not to do.

My pre-op appointment at the University of Chicago/ January 28th, 2026: They completed another set of extensive X-rays and labs on-site. I met with another person who went over the surgery with me.

I met with a third person who went over my medications and the entire recovery process and then another doctor came in to complete medical clearance.

My Hip replacement is scheduled for 2/11/26 at UofC Lagrange. I meet with PT who gets me walking that night before discharge. I will receive in home PT for the first two weeks. They told me to schedule the rest of PT now for four weeks out. I am unable to drive for six weeks.

Red Flags:

For my initial surgery in September, I went to an orthopedic office that is privately owned by the surgeon. What I learned: if a surgeon owns the practice, he answers to no one. He makes his own rules. At a hospital like Rush, Northwestern and University of Chicago, they have numerous teams who think of everything from risk management to home care. Hospitals follow a protocol.
An X-ray should have been taken at each follow-up visit. Now I have no idea when this other diagnosis started. I know now I should ask and then demand an x-ray.
I was in a “hurry to get fixed” and didn’t take the time to get a second and third opinion. What I learned: always go with your gut and your first impression; always get a second and third opinion. Liking the staff should not be a deciding factor of who performs the surgery. I was in a “hurry” and now I’m setback another 6 months. If you don’t LOVE ❤️ your doctor, find someone else.
I didn’t feel like “driving too far” or “wasting time with additional appointments”. What I learned: distance should not be a main factor. If I took the time to research, I would have discovered University of Chicago’s Orland park office was actually closer
DBS states post surgery “your hip looked way worse than the MRI once I got in there.” What I learned: if a doctor ever says anything like this to you, you should go see someone else immediately.
If a guy confuses a centimeter and a half inch, you know what that means…

If I had continued to listen to the DBS, I would still be crying through PT and doing more damage to the rest of my body.

I know I will be dancing again soon but a lot wiser this time.

#doitanyway, #freedom, #opportunity, #teens, #whiplash, Find A Way, sunshine & rainbows, Trauma

A Case of Whiplash

February 23, 2024January 16, 2025 quillankellydunn

The most difficult class I took in grad school was called Group Dynamics.

I walked in to a large classroom set up with thirty desks facing each other in a circle. The only person in the circle without a backpack at their feet, was a lanky, tall guy wearing a plaid shirt and navy tie.

He resembled a 45 year old Alex P. Keaton with Dick Van Dyke legs. His legs were crossed and he looked way too casual for a student. His elbow was propped on the desk and his hand held a pen that he clicked repeatedly next to his ear. He continued to look at each of us, yet didn’t say a word.

When the clock displayed the 6:30pm start time, no teacher introduced themself. It was odd. Five minutes went by without anyone speaking. The clock seemed to move in slow motion. The quiet was deafening and awkward.

After about 15 minutes, we all started looking at each other with that WTF-bewildered-look. Some raised their hands, no response. Students talked out loud, asked questions, some whispered to each other.…crickets…most students shrugged their shoulders.

We sat there in silence for 50 minutes. 🦗

It was maddening.

At the end of the class, the syllabus was passed around and the teacher left.

His name was Dr. Wolf.

The Assignment for the next week was to turn in five group dynamic observations we learned from this class.

But, we didn’t learn anything?

I scoured the book for hours all week trying to figure it out. I turned my sentences in, received it back at the end of class -grade 0/5. What?

Week after week I would relentlessly read and compose informative sentences only to receive a big fat zero. So I tried harder, read the chapter longer.

Continuous weekly ZEROS.

Each class, the silent Dr. Wolf would remain unresponsive, despite the students were becoming visibly frustrated, emotional, & downright irate.

When I received a zero on my test, my chest collapsed in devastation. I remember walking out of school into the January cold, sobbing. That Ugly cry. I cried all the way home and considered dropping the class.

Unfortunately, the class was mandatory in order to graduate.

I never tried so hard at anything in my life. Finally, I got angry.

I said “Fuck it.” I stopped trying. I stopped caring. I didn’t look at the book for a week.

After the next class, I half-assedly wrote down what I observed in the class. I relished in my passive aggression to the teacher.

Get. Bent. Dr. Wolf.

My statements:

1. “Without proper leadership, a group begins to look to each other for a new leader because their current one sucks.”

2. “Without direction or rules, a group breaks into cliques or subgroups and complains or talks about their own topics.”

3. “When the leader ignores the group, the members become frustrated, disrespectful, or withdrawn.”

4. “Without leader guidance, group members may want to leave the group.”

5. “Emotionally unsupportive male leaders may become strangely attractive to group members.”

The last one cracked me up.

Clearly, I got a thing for tall, lanky, emotionally unavailable men. 😉

I turned in these statements at end of class. I didn’t even wait until the next week. I wanted him to associate my face with my answers. I gave him an obstinate look as I tossed the sheet on his desk.

That following week I was excited to receive my zero. At least I didn’t waste hours of my time for this F/Zero. I hoped to see some type of expression on Dr. Wolf’s smug, stupid yet sexy face.

The paper was given to me with a

5 out 5-100% in red ink!!!

My neck snapped back like I was in a head-on collision. My temples throbbed like I had a case of whiplash.

Huh?

Then the epiphany…

Ohhhhh, he wants to know what I think, not what the books says.

I learned this without him saying one word.

I was also trying way too hard instead of seeing big picture.

“Work smarter, not harder” finally became clear.

From that day on, I was on fire.

Once I “got it” … I was unstoppable.

Imagine if I quit before it clicked. What a shame that would’ve been.

I learned more from this class than any other in my entire educational career.

Why?

Now this occurred 20+ years ago.

What would’ve happened if this class occurred in 2024?

Most would’ve just given up, dropped the class, maybe even changed majors. There was no instant gratification.

The giving up reasoning aka whining or excuses would probably sound like:

“It’s too hard!”

“He is emotionally abusive.”

“I’m being bullied.”

“The teacher is racist.”

“He’s a narcissist.”

These are paraphrased statements that I have heard from my own children and from other kids/teens; even adults.

Which I usually counter with “Maybe they are, but what are you learning from this?” as my mind flashes back to Dr. Wolf…

However, I never realized that at times, I was enabling my kids to use their feelings as an excuse; or making them feel too special so they thought they didn’t have to try.

My intention was to empower my kids, instead, I may have been fostering dependence on my approval.

I believe collectively, we all wanted to ensure our children had a more positive upbringing than we did.

Unfortunately, it may have gone too far and it seems to be backfiring.

As Simon Sinek states here & in the below link that this mindset could’ve been exacerbated we started to give everyone participation trophies.

Kids learned that everybody gets rewarded even if they don’t try, so why bother exerting effort.

Painful revelation

I am humbled to admit this:

When my husband encouraged my kids to throw away all of their participation medals & trophies, my kids (7 & 5) were crying, I erroneously sided with my kids.

I didn’t understand what my husband was trying to accomplish. He was ten years ahead of me. All I could see is how upset they were.

My own childhood confusion was prolonged by not having the “WHY” explained, so I convinced my husband to explain WHY he wanted the kids to do this. It made sense, sort of. I still didn’t see how this would have an impact on their future.

I see it now.

How else are they are going to learn to get back up when they are knocked down?

When things get tough, are they going to get back up or quit.

Are they going to keep trying after they fail, or surrender.

Ten years later…

The whip lashes back at me.

https://www.google.com/gasearch?q=simon%20sinek%20participation%20medals&tbm=&source=sh/x/gs/m2/5#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:95ca8e54,vid:GjcuELSTYA0,st:0

https://www.ted.com/talks/simon_sinek_how_great_leaders_inspire_action

https://medium.com/the-outtake/on-demand-for-a-second-look-whiplash-864f3530be4d

#Beyourself, #doitanyway, Apollo Creed, relationships, Rocky Balboa, sunshine & rainbows

February 15, 2024April 23, 2024 quillankellydunn

I don’t know about anybody else, but I am definitely not myself from Martin Luther King day until about Presidents’ Day. Four long, full weeks, with no days off.

During this time, I’m pounding vitamin D supplements like nobody’s business. It takes effort to feel motivated. A tremendous amount of energy & preparation is required to go for a walk outside.

Work, grocery shopping, exercising, cooking dinner, raising-teens, dishes, laundry, etc. the day-to-day feels so much heavier.

Now, this is the time where it’s a good idea to schedule some self-care & make plans with friends and family. Having something to look forward to makes a difference. Seeing the people you love in person, has an impact. Social connection has the power to help get you out of this funk.

I know this. Yet, I’m too tired to reach out. I’d rather just sit on the couch and wallow in this.

Yesterday, a Wednesday & Valentine’s Day, was an exceptionally tough day. It is my husband’s birthday so I wanted to cook a special dinner. I always forget to take the day off, thinking I can handle working, then rushing around cooking an elaborate spread.

Yes, I was going to make my kids assist, but sometimes delegating is even more exhausting. I do not always have the patience. Plus they may screw it up. 😂

Clearly, I was in my head and taking everything way too seriously.

I received a random text from a friend, T, that I haven’t talked to in a while, like years.

I’ve been meaning to call her especially after finding out too late, that her mother had passed.

I have had a post-it on my wall to send her a card for almost three weeks. It’s like, “Why don’t I just execute and do it? Why do I keep waiting?”

I was waiting for a “good time” to call her and finding the “perfect card to send her .”

So instead of texting her, I just called her right then, even though I was in middle of a car maintenance appointment.

There is no perfect time.

The call was interrupted, chaotic and silly but in that 35 minutes, it was real. Also, we were both laughing hysterically.

We hang up and go about our day, working & juggling motherhood. I went for a walk on my lunch since the sun was out. I asked my retired friend to join me, which also helped me get out of my head.

Early evening, after we both got through our day, T texted me, thanking me for the call.

She then goes on to tell me some amazing stories about her mom.

Why do we find out how spectacular someone is, after they’re already gone?

Such as, her mother had TWELVE children.

My friend T texts about her mom:

She’d tell my husband “mi hija es chingona. Sabes porque? Porque es mi hija.”

Translation: “My daughter is a bad ass. You know why? Because she’s my daughter. “

How cool is this? She sure sounds like a fun & fiesty lady.

T texts:

“Yep. I got all my seven sisters matching t shirts that say “chingona como mi madre”

T goes on to say:

“She loved the Rocky movies because my brother that passed, idolized the character. I went to Philly for work and took her with me to walk the steps and see the statue of Rocky.”

“I played the Rocky theme song on my phone while she walked up the steps.“

This is on my bucket list, so I’m intrigued. T sends me these fantastic pictures.

I am tearing up & smiling. I have the chills. Now…I’m obsessed with her mom. I am grieving this woman that I, unfortunately, never had the opportunity to meet.

Good reminder: The grief is always there. The griever will want to talk about the experiences they shared & the great things their loved one brought to this world. If they don’t, let it be their choice.

Don’t ever feel like “I didn’t want to bring it up.” It’s not like the person forgot about the loss. That pain is always lingering in the shadows.

I assume and doubt anyone is like “Oh, I forgot my mom died, thank you for the reminder & ruining my day.”

We can’t be afraid or avoid talking about this because it’s part of the beauty of life. The more powerful the love, the more powerful the loss.

To my surprise, by T talking about her loss & grief, she remembered a great accomplishment of her own.

T Texts:

“Omg and when I ran Chicago marathon my niece (my deceased brother’s daughter) made this poster for me.“

These trembling chills emerge down my spine, goosebumps on my arms as I’m reading her text, sitting in my office with these pictures right next to me: