How Michele Got Her Groove Back

 I’m sitting here today, looking at an image of two new hips… something I never imagined would be part of my story at 58.

But the truth is, losing my mobility didn’t happen all at once—it crept in quietly and caught me completely off guard.

In 2020, after Jim’s heart attack, I made a commitment to my health. I began a weight loss journey and added exercise into my routine. Somewhere along the way, I started to feel pain—but I pushed through. That’s what we do, right?

In 2021, on a Chamber trip, I remember the first moment I thought, this isn’t normal. Walking long distances brought intense lower leg pain. Still, I kept going. When I mentioned it to my primary care provider at the time, it was dismissed as age and weight.

So I kept going.

In 2022, as Chamber Chair, I was attending 6–7 meetings and events a week. Traveling. Walking cities with community leaders. Showing up, leading, connecting… and quietly enduring excruciating pain.

I hid it well.

By 2023, I sought help from a chiropractor. X-rays showed back issues, and adjustments helped—until they didn’t.

In 2024, my new primary care provider dug deeper. Imaging led me to a back surgeon, where I was diagnosed with spinal issues, including stenosis. I was told my weight made surgery too risky and was sent to pain management.

I didn’t love the idea of masking pain—but I didn’t feel like I had another choice.

So I did the work.

Over the next year, I lost over 100 pounds. In the fall of 2025, I returned to the back surgeon, ready to talk surgery.

Instead, he asked a question no one else had asked:

“Has anyone ever told you that you have bad hips?”

I was stunned.

After years of appointments, scans, and pain—no one had truly looked at my hips. One earlier X-ray had mentioned arthritis, but it was never pursued.

Within a week, I had my answer: end-stage osteoarthritis in both hips. I needed bilateral hip replacements.

Finally—clarity. And a path forward.

I scheduled my first surgery in November 2025. When I woke up, the lower leg pain that had become life-altering… was gone.

Recovery wasn’t easy. Rehab with one good hip and one failing one was tough. There were setbacks—especially with wound healing—but I kept my eye on the goal: getting my life back.

After additional consultations locally, I was referred to a specialist at the University of Missouri. I waited, hopeful and ready.

Yesterday, I had my second hip replacement.

And today, I’m sitting here incredibly grateful.

But I would be remiss if I didn’t share one of the hardest parts of this journey—not the surgeries, not even the pain—but what it meant for how I show up in my life and in my business.

As someone who thrives on connection, community, and being present, it was incredibly difficult to step back. Missing events. Leaving early. Saying no. Not being able to show up the way I always have.

That was hard.

And in that space, I learned something I didn’t expect.

My team stepped in—not just to fill gaps, but to lead, support, and carry things forward in ways that made me incredibly proud. It’s one thing to build a business. It’s another to build a team you can trust when you can’t be there.

They reminded me that leadership isn’t just about showing up—it’s about building something strong enough to stand when you can’t.

And at home… Jim.

There are no words big enough for what it means to have a partner who steps in without hesitation. Taking care of me. Keeping things moving. Being steady when I needed it most.

This journey also gave me something unexpected—time.

Time at home. Time to slow down. Time to be present in a different way.

And I felt what I was missing.

Not being able to walk my dog.

Not being able to fully play with my grandkids.

Not being able to just move freely through everyday life.

Those are the moments that stay with you.

Those are the moments that matter.

So today, I sit here with gratitude.

Grateful for answers.

Grateful for healing.

Grateful for my team.

Grateful for my husband.

Grateful for the chance to move forward.

This journey changed me.

Mobility is everything—and it’s easy to take for granted until it’s gone.

Now, the real work begins. Therapy. Strength. Patience.

But this time, I’m not pushing through pain.

I’m walking toward a life I don’t plan to miss again.