I have this super-d-duper condition called chondramalacia that usually affects marathon runners in their 40's. I got it when I was 5, and nowhere near a marathon runner.
Because I'm wicked awesome.
Anyhow, I had surgery for it when I was 14. Because it just made sense to jack up my entire summer, and the absolute best time to be in a full leg brace is when it's 100 degrees outside. The recovery for it sucked my ass, and it was a year before I could confidently walk down stairs without feeling like my knee would go out and I'd fall flat on my face. Good times.
Lord, I'm a train wreck.
Anyhow, my doc cautioned me back then that any surgery I ever had wouldn't be a permanent fix and that I'd most likely need to have it repeated every 8-10 years. It's been 21. And a half.
Most of the time, my knee is okay. I mean it hurts and it swells, but when you have something like this you eventually just learn to live with it. I had a bad habit of overdoing it in college. I'd push it too hard at the gym and pay for it over the next week or so.
When I got married and had kids, I knew that there was no way I could have surgery. I can't chase kids in a full leg brace. So, I wait. And limp from time to time.
In truth, though, I don't want the surgery. I'll live with the pain, because at least it's something I am familiar with. I know the recovery sucks and the benefits don't last all that long anyway.
I'm just annoyed because now that I'm actually in a good routine with yoga and running occasionally, my knee is pissed at me. The last few days, it has been so bad that I'm unintentionally favoring the other leg and cursing under my breath when I have to get up. Stairs....just fuck you.
I would like to do my sun saluations, body.
I would like to go for a run, stupid knee.
Mostly though, I have plans today that involve the 3 inch deconstructed black leather mules and dammit I want to wear them.
|They are kinda like this, but cuter and higher.|