My Relationship with Trust

MaryJayne Waddell | JUN 24, 2025

“I promise…” Two little words usually followed by “forever” or “always.”
You know the drill:

I promise I’ll love you forever.

I’ll be there for you, always.

I promise I know what I’m doing—just trust me.

Like most of you, I’ve survived a few broken promises and

pride myself on not becoming a cynical, older bitch. (A gold star for emotional resilience, please.)

The most recent promise made to me—though not in those exact words—came from my surgeon.

He assured me that a bilateral hip replacement would relieve my pain and

have me back to my active lifestyle in no time.

Is assurance the same as a promise?

I’ve decided: YES. (Because sometimes you have to.)

I trust the team knows how to saw off the top end of my thigh bone,

fit it with a shiny new metal or ceramic ball,

then drill out my hip socket to insert a fresh ceramic cup,

sealed in with what I imagine is the orthopedic version of Gorilla Glue.

At this point, I feel like I’m equal parts craft project and home renovation.

I picture the surgical team flipping through a "How to Build a New Hip" manual:

  • Materials list: saw, drill, glue, ruler, needle, thread, staples, gauze.
  • Safety precautions: ensure area is well-lit and ventilated. Confirm all participants are comfortable using power tools. (Check!)

My surgeon assures me they’re all qualified, registered crafters.

Probably have matching tool belts and everything.

To be fair, he also explained the risks—

though he quickly pointed to the “Troubleshooting” section of the manual.
"I promise, we’ve never had a problem we couldn’t solve," he says with a confident grin.

Now it’s my turn to make a promise:
Wash with antiseptic cleanser.
Stop shaving.
No lotion or deodorant for five whole days prior to installation. (Yes, I’m calling it that.)

Then, left hand on my Hip Surgery Handbook, I raise my right hand and solemnly swear:
“I promise to use a walker,

a raised toilet seat,

grab bars,

follow all medication instructions,

do my PT exercises religiously…

and never jog again.”

It’s a promise I can keep—forever and always.

Or at least until the 25 year warranty runs out.

MaryJayne Waddell | JUN 24, 2025

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