I’m sitting here practicing what has become a familiar evening ritual: the icing of my knee.
Sometime in mid-September, I noticed that my knee felt sore after running. I chalked it up to getting older, or a sign that it might be time to get some new shoes. It didn’t get worse, but it didn’t go away. A few weeks ago it started bothering me more. I noticed it more throughout the day, not just after a run. I chalked it up to my new job. I’m on my feet a lot more, up and down ladders, moving boxes. Two weeks ago I noticed swelling and a lump on the outside of my knee. I couldn’t sit on my knees or squat all the way down. I quit chalking it up to this, that and the other and decided it was time to go to the doctor.
My primary care physician wrote it off as runner’s knee and told me to ice it and do some stretches. And so began the nightly ritual of leg up, ice on. I had hoped that would be the end of it, but my knee and my gut thought otherwise. It just didn’t feel right, nor was it getting better.
Yesterday I paid a visit to an orthopedic doctor. You know it’s not good when they get that first look at your knee and say, “Holy cow, that’s some swelling!” Score one for gut instinct, zero for medical prognosis. It appears that somewhere along the way I tore the meniscus in my knee. I want to say it’s from running, but it could just as likely be from some overenthusiastic bouncing at a Coldplay concert. I’m not ashamed to admit that I love Chris Martin to the point of bodily harm.
What does that mean? It means this girl is going to find herself under the knife in early January. To be honest, I’m having a really hard time with it. I’m nervous about dealing with the pain for another 7 weeks. I’m nervous about the surgery. I’m nervous about the recovery. I’ve never had surgery. I birthed my children naturally so I wouldn’t need any kind of anesthesia. I’m the caretaker, not the person that needs taken care of. I’m nervous about gaining weight. I’m nervous I’ll never be athletic again. The one bright side? I’m gonna get a heck of a nap in the day of surgery. There might even be a People magazine if I’m lucky.
I guess a new meniscus for Christmas will do. I really wanted an iPad and a giant Colts horse head, though.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, would you? Travel safely, eat lots of pie, and for goodness sakes, be kind to your menisci.