Karma continues to be a bitch. As long-time readers know, I’ve written multiple posts about my husband’s various injuries and (5? 6?) surgeries. I even did one about how if the man were a car, he’d be a lemon.
Pretty stupid to tempt fate like that.
Aside form a torn quadricep and finger broken sacrificed to our son’s soccer team, I’ve only had minor issues related to an active lifestyle (not counting pregnancy, which was its own horror show.). Bursitis (in knee, then hip) led to cortisone shots. There were some rounds of physical therapy and a correction in my stride mechanics to make sure I landed on a bent knee. Once I hit 40, my orthopedist told me my now-creaking knees were no longer “pristine.” I traded volleyball for yoga and iced frequently after long walks.
Last summer, my right knee hurt enough that I couldn’t walk the dog very far. Of course I couldn’t get into to see the orthopedist until October, when it was feeling better. X-rays showed osteoarthritis and chondrocalcinosis (calcium crystals). I got an Rx for physical therapy, more ice, more stretching, and a topical NSAID. I added daily exercises with a roller and a band. Wheee.
The dog and I were back up to 2-3 miles by February. I thought I was doing okay. Ha.
At the end of April, when I got up from kneeling to clean the cat litter box, a new, tingling, shooting pain rain down the right side of my right leg. There was some yelling and a lot of swearing, but the pain went away.
Three days later I had to turn back from a dog walk because my right knee hurt so much. All walking was painful, actually. Andy got his crutches out of the garage and handed them over while we waited on an MRI to tell us what was wrong with my knee.
Which turned out to be practically everything: torn lateral meniscus, fraying other meniscus, torn membranes, cartilage damage, muscle—forget it. There’s too much to list. I had to google so many medical terms I felt queasy.
It’s easier to tell you the one part of my knee that isn’t messed up: all the cruciate ligaments are still intact.
Please clap.
Unlike with Andy’s knee and quad and ankle issues, surgery isn’t a very good option in the case of lateral meniscus tears, especially with all my accompanying knee issues. The orthopedist thinks I should just keep doing the same physical therapy, ice, and meds I was doing already. This seems sus to me—if that physical therapy was so effective, why is my knee so shit and getting shittier, dude?
For now, though, I’m doing the PT routine and yoga while I wait for a specialist to decide my fate (and listening to everyone with a knee replacement tell me how great they are, EVEN AS I EXPLAIN THAT MIGHT NOT BE AN OPTION).
I’ve made it off crutches (mostly), but walking and standing for long periods of time are still painful. I swim, use a recumbent bike on the lowest resistance, and lift weights for exercise. I am grateful that our house is tiny and only one story.
Yardwork and gardening? I can’t squat or kneel, so those are right out. One neighbor has already complained about how bad our front yard looks. (I may retaliate by covering dying vegetation with anti-Trump signs and political signs for every progressive candidate in the next few months.)
It takes me a lot more time to do anything, whether it’s a trip to the store, a trip to the gym, or domestic chores. Still, vacuuming is preferable to chasing down limping after an escaped cat.
Andy now walks Tankie in the morning. Dalton walks him in the evening.
I miss those walks. I really miss my cardio endorphins. And at a time when I’d really like some comfort food, I’m supposed to lose weight to decrease the load on my knee joints. Because guess what? My other knee already has many of the same issues and will probably get the rest eventually.
Sadly, the only perks so far are a compression brace, a collapsible cane, and a spiffy new ice-pack from my friend JM.
Oh, and the fact that Andy has not once laughed and said, “Ha! Who is the lemon now?!”
Even though we all know he’s thinking it.
