My fucked up knees

Three or four years I have found out just how old I am. By that I mean my body began to fall apart. At least that is what it felt like.

Three years ago, I developed a sharp pain in my knee. After a trip to the doctor and some time with my personal trainer, I got an MRI and was sent to an orthopedic surgeon. Diagnosis? Arthritis. And you know what? I cried. I had been in some serious pain for several months. I couldn't walk across the library without it feeling like someone was driving a nail into my knee.

Up to that point, I thought it was a meniscus tear--or something like that because it had come on so suddenly. But arthritis was forever. It was never going away. As I'm sitting there in the doctor's office, all I could think was how this would be my life from here on out. Pain. Lots of it.

During this time, the doctor started telling me how he was five or so years older than me and his knees creaked after he ran, this is what happens when you get old. Surgery couldn't help me. And then he started in talking about weight and exercise. I was like, "So what you are telling me is that I'm old and fat." He was pretty taken aback by my comment. When I cried more, he was like, "It's obvious you are upset." I was offended by his dismissiveness. I tried to explain, that this meant it was forever and I wasn't mentally prepared for that. Shortly after this, he walked out and said, "I'm sorry that it wasn't what you wanted to hear," and he walked out.

Since my appointment with the orthopedic, I had had come to Jesus moment where I realized I needed to take control over my body. It felt like it was failing and I needed to stop that. I bought a bike. I began working with a personal trainer. I began to build muscle to replace the cartilage I'd lost. I began to feel better. Then the other one began to hurt in a new way. New because I fucked up my right knee when I was in college and it had hurt off and on for twenty-plus years. But it began to hurt in a new way.

I went back to my doctor who sent me back to my physical therapist. It was my patella--again. That was the problem the first time with my right knee, but now it was the other side. After a few weeks, she sat me down and said I needed to go back to an orthopedic and advocate for myself. She suggested I go to Seattle and see a sports doctor, not a local surgeon. I wanted to see a local surgeon first. I asked to go to the same doctor a friend went to. And you know what? He was great.

I mean, it's the same issue. I have arthritis. But he told me straight up, "You have the arthritis of a 65 year old." I didn't realize how much I needed to have someone validate my pain. He took the time to explain the issues and answer my questions. Surgery still wasn't an option. I was too young. My BMI was too high (not by much, he said. If I lost 20 pounds I'd be under the limit). My age was the big one because, basically, my insurance wouldn't pay for it. He began to go into the you-need-to-be-more-active speech. I cut him off and told him I exercised.

This is the thing, I'm short, but I am not small. I get really pissed off when people look at me and assume I don't exercise or work out or take care of myself. I don't have high blood pressure. I have low cholesterol, I workout four to five days a week.

So the conversation changed: And I doing more damage when my knees hurt when I walk or workout. The damage is done, he told me. The cartilage isn't coming back. Know my limits, manage the pain, and live my life. If I had knee replacements put in now, I'd probably need two if not three more total replacements by the end of my life, and there would be a good chance they wouldn't be able to do a third one (you lose bone with each surgery). If this happened, I'd be wheelchair-bound. I didn't like the answer, but I understood it. I asked if I saw a third doctor if he'd tell me the same thing. Yes, he said. And if they didn't, they were offering surgery for the wrong reasons.

I had a bunch more questions about different types of treatment. For the most part, my knees were too far gone for those to help. So, great. Thing is? I left his office feeling pretty good. I had answers and I knew what my answers were. But more than that, being treated like my pain was real (because it was)? It was everything.

I worked with my trainer to develop a plan that would maximize muscle in my knees and that would help me develop the strength I needed. I began to take control of my body. Three years later, my knees still bother me but not like they did. I'm still working with a trainer. I'm still not small, but I am strong as fuck. I have upper body strength. My back is strong. My legs, stronger. I can deadlift 210 pounds (I started at 65).

I still have arthritis. I still hurt from time to time. I get stiff, but I know how to handle it. And, goddammit, at some point in my life, I want new knees.

Why all this now? Because for the last year, I've had a fucked up wrist. And in a little over a month, I'm having surgery. And my experience with this has made me look back on the experiences I had when meeting with doctors about my knees and how much it shaped my expectations now. But I'll continue that story in another post.