I'm staying home today because I'm on the second day of side effects from cortisone shots in my failing knee. Yesterday, drugged on pain killers and completely miserable, I couldn't focus on anything but trying to control the pain. Today, I can focus, but the breakthroughs of hideous pain reduce me to angry and frantic outbursts--which is never a professional behavior, and I've learned I can't control my visceral reactions to such pain that erupts from my knee, stabs through my body and makes me physically ill. It's just too much.
The images showed that an alarming amount of cartilage is dead or dying in my left knee. Such an amount that my orthopedic doctor uttered a quiet "shit" under his breath when he looked at the pictures on the computer screen. He compares my knee with that of a 100-year-old woman.
My left knee used to look like my right one. The images of the right show less arthritis and damage of the cartilage, comparable to that of a healthy 80-year-old. He explains that the injury and lack of immediate care from a year and a half ago has caused the cartilage to die and disintegrate much faster in the left. The bones grate against one another in my knee, wearing and enlarging holes in one another. The bones catch and scrape so painfully that any movement is agony.
"I guess I should give away those ice skates?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood. He looks at me and shakes his head, saying, "You're only 41. You're so young... I'm sorry."
We talk replacement, and timeline. But in the end it comes back to the pain I'm in versus what I might face later. Neither option is a good one.
With this dreams and plans are once again let go. It seems like I spend an inordinate amount of time dreaming up a better life to work toward, only to be reminded that I can't have it.
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