In the beginning...

There was nothing.  There was no pain.  No confusion.  No crutches.  No meds.  No metal apparatus.  No worries.  But that was Monday. 

In the afternoon of Monday, March 12 I was innocently playing basketball, having fun, getting some exercise.  No big deal.  In a single second, everything changed.  As I drove the baseline (for those unfamiliar with the lingo, that is the boundary under the basket) I decided not to plow through the 7 year old child that ran in front of me like a tiny deer with thumbs.  I stopped and crumbled.  Well, most of me stopped.  I planted my right leg and something popped in the middle of my knee and I knew that something was seriously wrong. 

I have been watching sports for decades, and every time an athlete blows out his or her knee, they describe the pop that they hear.  It curdles the soul and confounds the brain.  You try to get up and walk, but you can't.  You have one knee and one slinky.  There is no stability, no strength, no confidence.  I heard that pop.  The sound has an ominous effect.  Not like a knuckle crack, where the pop is ordinary and innocent.  This is something that immediately informs you of danger.  I tried to be a tough guy.  I tried to man up. 

I am not a tough guy, as it turns out.

I was taken to the emergency room and could almost see my leg swelling up like a tire.  Eventually they were able to put me in a wheelchair and push me to the x-ray facility.  At that point, it started to hurt.  That's the bitch about this injury, it didn't hurt all that much.  The emotional pain far outweighed the physical pain, so I thought that the pop was nothing.  Again, my thoughts were wrong.  Of course the x-rays didn't show anything, as they can't see ligaments, tendons, muscles, or anything other than bones.  In my case, because I have to be different, they couldn't see all of the bone due to the absurd swelling that I had.  Lucky me.

They gave me a couple of prescriptions for painkillers, 800mg ibuprofen and Vicodin, which I have enjoyed.  Thanks Pfizer.  They also told me to get in contact with an orthopedist to get diagnosed, which is wierd because I was at a hospital.  I would think that the doctors at the goddamn hospital would be able to tell me what the hell was wrong with me.  Nope.  I had to go to another place 2 days later to get that.

So I go to the orthopedist.  I had spent nearly two full days in a knee immobilizer, which is a fun little toy that keeps your knee from moving.  I also got crutches, which are fun little toys that get you around when one of your legs is out of commission.  They also chafe.  The orthopedist (named Velvet) told me that the only way to get a true diagnosis was to have an MRI, because there was still too much swelling to determine the exact injury.

She told me that it was probably, like 80% sure, a torn ACL.

The Anterior Cruciate Ligament resides inside of your knee and keeps the knee stable so you can use it without looking like a drunk cartoon character.  Mine has apparently decided to detach, and in the process made that horrible popping sound.  So I had to get an MRI.

Don't get an MRI.  I mean, sometimes you are going to have to, but avoid it if at all possible.

What an MRI does is to take a picture of the inside of your body, whatever part is ailing, so a doctor can tell you what the issue is and get you better.  The machine itself is pretty incredible.  It is huge, with a tube a little wider than a normal sized person that you go into so that the photos can be taken.  Of course, if you are claustrophobic, it is a living nightmare.  To me, it was a lot like DubStep "music."  It was overly loud with bright lights and it gave me the overwhelming desire to be anywhere else.  Also, the sounds were very similar to DubStep, with huge droning bassy beat and chirping melodies that come out of nowhere.  Occasionally there is a whistling sound or some sort of clanking.  It was horrible.

I got a copy of the pictures, and tried to compare them to the images Google provides when you to a search for torn ACL, but I am not a doctor.  I'm not anything really, so looking at those was like looking at static.  Try as I might, there was no way I would be able to decipher what anything was, other than the outline of my still semi-swollen leg.

Now I wait.  Wednesday I go back to the orthopedist (named Velvet) to get the final diagnosis and work out a recovery plan.  I'm a little nervous.  The guy who took the MRI said he had trouble finding my ACL, which means that it is flapping around like the Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tube Man inside my knee.

Now I wait.

SD