Stubborn AF

And now I’m paying the price.

As I write this, I’m sitting at my desk, balancing on one butt cheek while holding my left leg perfectly straight and off the ground.

I’m self-diagnosing here, but yesterday, during a workout, I tore the meniscus in my knee for the second time in two years.

The first time, I was kneeling on a cold, ceramic tile floor cleaning the toilet in one of our bathrooms. I got up quickly, turned the wrong way (apparently) and felt an excruciating pop in my knee. I actually screamed out loud, that’s how painful it was.

Now, for someone who works out daily, this was not good. I knew something pretty fucking bad happened because I’ve had sprains before, but the pain and immobility were nothing like this.

I hopped around the house on one leg, frantic. What should I do, I thought? I ran for them ice, naturally, which helped for a little while, but as soon as my knee “cooled off,” the pain was back.

I Googled like a maniac and, from what I read, determined that I had indeed messed up that poor, worn-out piece of cartilage.

A meniscus, for those of you who have not had to deal with this unfortunate, and all-too-common injury, is a c-shaped disc of soft cartilage that sits between the femur (thigh bone) and the tibia (shin bone). And when you hurt it, it retaliates like a mofo.

As someone who goes to the doctor only when absolutely necessary, the fact that I broke down and let my husband take me to an orthopedic place should give you an indication of the discomfort I was in.

I had an MRI and it showed a “slight” tear in the meniscus of my left knee. I should inject hear that both my knees are pretty fucked up. Largely due to the natural aging process and also, because I’m a stubborn idiot who doesn’t understand the concept of “taking it easy.” What can I say?

Naturally, surgery was an option. The meniscus can either be repaired — meaning the damaged part is shaved away — or totally removed. From what I understand, recovery is much quicker in the latter option.

Just take the little bastard out!

That said, I opted to do nothing, at least surgically. The thought of having to sit around on my ass for weeks, or even months while rehabbing, was a non-starter for me. Inactivity and anxiety do not a happy couple make. Not to mention I’d probably be hitting the vodka at noon, out of frustration, alone.

So, I did my research. Even bought a book on healing your own knees from someone called the “Knee Guru.’ Yes. I was desperate. And also, stubborn in my determination to avoid the knife.

I iced. Used heat. Rotated between heat and ice. Rubbed all manner of unguents into the injured knee. Camphor. Lidocaine patches. Expensive creams from Amazon. And then I tried the natural route with Magnesium oil and other essential oils like cinnamon, lemongrass and ginger.

I popped ibuprofen like it was oxy and tried a variety of different knee braces and sleeves. Most of which I quickly discarded because they didn’t work, or were downright uncomfortable. Plus the neoprene, which most of these contraptions are made of, gave me a rash.

And then, there was the lack of exercise. I couldn’t abide that. COULD. NOT. So, I did whatever I could do comfortably: Leg lifts while laying on my side. Straight leg raises to strengthen my quads and better support my knees, slow rides on my stationary bike. Like that.

Healing my meniscus turned out to be a full-time job. And, since I didn’t have a full-time job, as I was laid off, I was able to devote myself to my ministrations.

Fast-forward two years and here I am again. Left knee dripping from the melting ice pack. Right knee hurting from the compensation caused by a fucked-up gait. I’m a hot mess.

Last night, I slept on a love seat with my leg elevated. I was afraid to sleep in the bed, because the action of curling into a fetal position, which I often like to do, will screw my knee up even more. In fact, the leg could totally lock up. If you’ve ever experienced that, you’ll agree that “hell” is a limb you cannot straighten.

This is all my fault, by the way. I know that the high intensity exercises I insist on doing, like running on the treadmill and jumping rope, are only going to fuck me in the long run.

Still…I like my cardio. It keeps me sane. But, I am slowly realizing that I am going to have to find a reasonable alternative if I want to avoid succumbing to Dr. Hambone.

Full disclosure: I also work out the way I do to avoid weight gain. It’s important to me, as losing a ton of weight is how I saw the lump in my breast that turned out to be cancer, over four years ago. There’s no getting around the fact that sitting on my ass waiting for a surgically-enhanced knee to heal is going to pack on some pounds. I don’t want to sound like a vain nincompoop, but I’ve worked really hard to stay in shape.

Friends — I don’t know what the hell to do.

I am certain, that if I were to have an MRI done today, on both knees, I would get the “bone on bone, these things gotta go,” diagnosis and I am not ready for that.

Arthroplasty, or knee replacement surgery is one of the most common bone surgeries in the U.S. Google that, and see what you come up with. My favorite:

Walk out the door the same day!

Also, I’m betting every one of us knows someone who has had knee or hip replacement, surgery, back surgery, and still professes to having pain. Once you go that route, there’s no going back.

Fearless about so many things, but when it comes to my body and strangers doing weird stuff to it — that’s where I draw the line. Unless, of course, I am out of DIY options.

For now, I will continue as I did two years ago. I will slather strong-smelling ointments on my knee. Cool it off. Heat it up. Load my bath with Epsom Salts — and shriek like a Banshee every time I move the wrong way. Good times!

Of course, a specialist, who actually went to school for many years to treat people just like myself, could probably help me deal with my shredded meniscus, but why bother, when:

Dr. Sherry is in da house!

Oh, yeah. I just ordered two more braces and a jar of MSM flakes on Amazon. The positive reviews were through the roof! For the MSM, or Methylsulfonylmethane especially, which is essentially, sulfur. And sulfur is purported to stimulate the growth of new cartilage, so I’m psyched!

Gotta go. Time to fire up the tread — ow! Fuck!

Sherry McGuinn is a longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

I hope you enjoyed reading this. And, by the way: I’m not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV, so, if you hurt yourself — go and see yours! Care to read more?

I won’t be doing much of this for a while: