How’s it going, awesome readers?
Fact: I have a memory the size of a peanut.
Despite this, I remember exactly when the pain started. It was a Wednesday. And not just any Wednesday but TWO Wednesdays ago. Under normal circumstances this time span would be considered beyond my ability to retain events. That in itself is remarkable, under normal circumstances.
I’m talking about my knee pain and I suggest you read this post for the backstory. Technically, it’s a kneestory but spell check is having issues. Regardless, I suggest you go here and read that story. Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you to come back before I continue with this story …
*Moment of humble silence as I wait for your return. Or possibly I’ve gone to make myself a cup of tea. Or pee. PS. I did not mean to sound like Dr. Seuss there.*
Finally you’re back. Okay, let’s resume, shall we?
So after reading that other post you don’t have to know me for real to know that I’ve been limping my way through life like an injured athlete. Only I’m not an athlete. And I’m not injured. My knee just decided one day – on a Wednesday – to give me attitude. It’s happened before but never like this.
Finally I decided to see a doctor who agreed that my knee was being an asshole. He said it was “quite inflamed” and assured me that I definitely did not have arthritis. (I may be paraphrasing. Possibly he didn’t use the words “definitely”, “not” and “arthritis” in the same sentence. That part is kind of a blur.)
So he sent me to get an ex-ray.
Then last Friday (because my memory of events is obviously improving) I had a follow-up visit.
What I expected to happen:
Doctor: Since you DO NOT have arthritis, and this IS NOT a bone or joint problem, the ex-ray didn’t show anything. I’m sending you for an MRI.
What actually happened:
Doctor: You have arthritis. Osteoarthritis, actually.
Then he wrote something on a piece of paper – something illegible, proving to me his proficiency as a doctor – and said, “Take this to a physiotherapist. They can help you manage this disease.”
And of course I was like, “DISEASE??? I HAVE A DI-SEASE???”
Then I went and celebrated the fact that my body is falling apart with a fruit-infested pancake. Something I NEVER do.
PS. I ended up eating only the fruit. Because now that I have a disease I thought that maybe I shouldn’t be celebrating so hard.