So I went to see my ortho yesterday, and while the news isn't exactly bad, it isn't exactly good, either.
Now, I've been going to this guy since I was fourteen (I tore up my right knee in junior high, playing flag football, of all the stupid things) and he's just the best as far as doctors are concerned. Now, it's been about 10 years since my last visit (which I honestly don't remember making, but he showed me the note in my file. And it was for this same stupid knee... ay yi yi), and I don't think he's aged one bit since my last visit - which is kind of scary, now that I think about it.
But I digress.
Now, according to the X-ray, I've got great bones (woo hoo!), and it isn't arthritis (which is a huge relief because I thought it might be just that. When I screwed up the right knee all those moons ago, he warned me I might develop arthritis in my 30s. I was 15. In my 30s was about a hundred years off, so I just kind of shrugged it off at the time. Well, that hundred years flew by, let me tell you.)
Okay, so it's not arthritis or any bad bone stuff. Whew. That's good.
And not so good at the same time.
Obviously, X-rays only show bones. He is fairly sure I've torn the meniscus. **insert sigh here** And that's what I did to the right knee all those moons ago. If it's torn, surgery's the only way to fix it. **insert another sigh**
But, my ortho's a cheerful optimist. He's pretty sure it's torn, but there's a chance it might not be, so we're going to approach it that way for now. This is why I love this guy - surgery for him is always a last option, once every other one is totally exhausted. He doesn't operate unless it's absolutely necessary. A surgeon who isn't looking to slice and dice every chance he gets.
So now I'm on Lodine. Twice a day. For the next three weeks. I go back in mid-October. If the knee isn't any better, we'll do the MRI and then take it from there.
On one hand, the surgery's not unbearable. I had it done twenty years ago and, if anything, it's probably improved. It hurts, but it isn't agonizing. Of course, I'm not 15 any more, but hey, I recovered from two c-sections in about about two weeks each time. I'm a trooper. =)
And let's face it, the idea of spending a week in bed, with everyone waiting on me for a change sounds real sweet. Not to mention there's bound to be some kind of good pain meds in it. Okay, probably not the best reason to opt for surgery, but it does sweeten the deal. Not to mention I'm sick of the pain. It grinds you down, day in and day out. I can't remember the last time I sat through a movie where it didn't hurt. I rarely go to sporting events because they really cram you into stadium seats. Even car rides - long and short - are beyond uncomfortable. That's why I pretty much agree with him that the meniscus is most likely torn. It's hurt for too long to be just bruised. And I want to take care of it.
Okay, that's enough self-pity. Tomorrow's my busy day, so I may not get to post, but on Friday, I'll try to do something writing related. Promise. =)