Well, looks like I’ve got myself a brand-new hip!

They say third time’s the charm—though if you ask me, that’s two times too many.

Back in February, I never imagined a fractured hip would still be holding me hostage by late September. But then again, I also never put “seven-month staph infection” on my 2024 bingo card. Life comes at you fast… and sometimes with IV antibiotics.

But here’s the thing: it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Along the way, I discovered daily blessings—big and small. My wife Jane, whose love and support have been amazing; my kids and grandkids who kept my spirits up; neighbors who never let me down; incredible medical teams at Baptist Hospital, Bluegrass Orthopedics, and Lexington Infectious Disease Consultants (because of course I needed a whole consulting firm for this hip); and friends from around the world who prayed, called, and cheered me on.

Oh—and let’s not forget Jow Jow and Boomer, our loyal four-legged nurses, who specialized in “sloppy-kiss therapy.” (Highly effective. Zero copay.)

So the infection has been conquered, the new hip is finally in place, and now I’m headed into the fun part: rehab. Time to learn to walk again—and maybe even chase Jane around the house, if she’ll let me.

From the bottom of my (well-patched) hip, thank you all for your prayers, messages, and love. You’ve helped heal more than just my body. I love you all!

Yes, I know.
I’ve been MIA. Off the grid. Radio silent. The sermon stream has dried up. And not because I’ve suddenly run out of things to say (don’t worry—that’s still impossible). There’s a reason:

Back on February 22nd, I had what we’ll call… a lapse in judgment. I know better than to rush down the stairs from the second floor to the main level of our house—but that day, I decided to throw caution, logic, and several pounds of pride to the wind. I galloped downward like a caffeinated mountain goat, missed the last couple of steps, and…

Crash. Boom. Ouch.

Result: Fractured left hip.

Bonus round: A titanium hip replacement, courtesy of an excellent orthopedic team who wasted no time giving me a shiny new part.

At first, recovery seemed to be going well. I had visions of tap-dancing by Easter. But about three weeks in, pain made a dramatic and unwelcome comeback. Not just “this is uncomfortable” pain. I’m talking “every step feels like medieval torture” pain. I was back to the walker, with all the grace of a wounded shopping cart.

Eventually, the culprit revealed itself: a staph infection in the new hip. And just like that, I earned myself another surgery. Out went the titanium hip, in came a temporary, antibiotic-laced spacer (which, for the record, is not nearly as exciting as it sounds). Then came six weeks of daily outpatient antibiotic infusions—my new full-time job.

Those wrapped up last week, and now we wait. If the infection is gone by mid-August, I’ll be cleared for yet another hip replacement surgery in September. Third time’s the charm?

So, yes, the sermons have been on pause—but not because I stopped caring or ran out of thoughts to share. It’s just hard to write when you’re waging war with bacteria and being held together by space-age polymers.

Thank you for your patience, your understanding, and (most of all) your prayers. I hope to be back online and the inbox soon—new hip, no infection, and maybe even wiser for the wear.

With gratitude (and titanium-enhanced hope),

Marty