Operation Knee Capped

The Run Down

So, as it has been bandied about lately…I have managed to fuck my knee up.  How?  I was doing something healthy for a change.  I was working out, lifting weights, when my right knee just gave out under me. Being the intelligent human being I am, I hopped right back up and went about my work out in pain, but I knew if I stopped I wouldn’t be able to continue. 

Bright, eh? 

Anyway, after a week of dealing with elephant knee (swollen knee), hurting constantly and barely being able to support my weight on that leg, I went to the doctor on Monday. She did an exam and decided the best course of action would for her to treat my ten dollar problem before we started worrying about the several hundred dollar problem. 

She thinks I may have torn something, but isn’t sure…and that I probably have what is called a “joint mouse.” A joint mouse is basically a thin shaving of cartilage that has broken off and is knocking around in the joint causing issues. Now both problems will require an MRI (several hundred dollars) to diagnose, so she decided to treat my severe tendonitis before we went down that road.  So she gave me orders to stay off my knee as much as possible, wear a brace and gave me drugs (steroids and Vicodin); which, added up to the cost of the doctor’s visit and about ten bucks worth of drugs.

I’m cheap, so I appreciate this course of action.  Also, I’m not in any hurry to have an MRI done.  I remember those things from when my Dad was in the hospital with cancer, not happy memories…so they kind of freak me out. I’m not even claustrophobic; I just don’t like the idea of being stuck in a metal tube that isn’t part of some escape pod system from an exploding space ship.  Just sayin’.  

So it’s a wait and see type of situation now.  I’ve fourteen days of required rest on that knee, and then if it’s still jacked up…I go for the MRI and a date with an orthopedic surgeon.

The Funny (well maybe not as funny as normal. I'm on drugs people, give me a break.)

Now, as per usual, funny shit happened. 

Did you know that when you’re in a fairly busy doctor’s office that if, out of boredom, you investigate that mysterious jingling noise in your field jacket pocket and pull out a handful of spent .38 special brass, you suddenly get quite a bit a space around you to stretch out and put your leg up?  No? Well, now you know.

--The shell casings were from the weekend Kev and I spent up with his parents in Northern Mo. I’d taken my 98 year old .38 special to test fire.  Side effect to having weapons training is that simple things are usually ingrained.  Back when I was in weapons training, we wanted to keep the range clean and plus some of the guys were reloaders (they reused spent casings to make new bullets), so we’d pick up all our brass after each round. So, I was out there shooting with Larry in a cow pasture and automatically picking my brass up and pocketing it after each reload. I have to say, for its age and nonuse this little .38 shot smoothly, far better than any of the service revolvers I’d ever handled. –

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeah, I was freaking out people who don’t know the difference between spent and live bullets.  Shaking my head and trying not to giggle I stuffed them back into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone and started dicking around on twitter and texting people. 

I’m just going to make a blanket apology here:

I’m sorry my phone’s autocorrect is a bastard and insists on turning every use of the word “can’t” into “cunt.” I try to catch it, but sometimes I don’t.  My apologies.  I would never call anyone I text a cunt.  Actually, I seriously wouldn’t call anyone a cunt.  I rather like the terms, “twat-waffle,” “dick weasel” and “ass-waffle.”  If I’m going to insult someone, I want to try and expand their horizons with a creative insult.  I want to show them I put some serious thought and work into calling them a bad, yet hilarious, name.

Okay back to the medical fiasco.

So, I get out of there and come home.  I call and talk with my personal trainer. YES I HAVE FUCKING PERSONAL TRAINER.  I am serious about this getting into top shape thing, folks. She loans me her crutches.

Ah, yes crutches.  I’ve never used them before.  I’ve used a cane several times due to various unfortunate events that involved lots of cursing, possibly any of the following: dogs, leashes, roller blades, LARGE FUCKING ROCKS – I’M LOOKING AT YOU,ESMERELDA McCOY* , being attacked by shower ninjas and other mundane things that turn into weapons of mass destruction when around me or my family.

But, anyway…crutches.  Watching me use crutches is like watching a cracked up Bambi learn to walk on ice after snorting a few lines of Columbia’s finest. I have the grace of a dump truck sliding down a hill backwards on an icy day in Minnesota, couple that by giving me two aluminum weapons in each hand and I’m a walking, well…hobbling…advertisement for mass destruction and hilarity. Who needs the Three Stooges? They’ve got me trying to figure out how to use crutches AND carry a fountain coke at the same time.  Or, my favorite…go to the store and realize that pushing the buggy and using crutches at the same time was NOT physically possible.

Within the first thirty minutes of me getting crutches, I managed to whack myself in the knee…yes the hurt knee, even, not once…not twice, but three fucking times.

Today, I got to use them in public again when I went to KC proper to get my Sonic serviced. Luckily the mechanics are sweet guys and one of them carried my coke into the lobby for me while I made like a three legged Harvestmen (spider) and scurried in behind him in a tangle of legs and aluminum.  I was also wearing my knee brace so I was pretty pathetic. Apparently they like the chicks that can’t run fast at that dealership.  That or it was my awesome cleavage.  One of the two.  But, I had good service and lots of people talking with me.

This is all leading up to Friday when Kev and I will make a trip down to Texas.  Thirteen hours in a car with two of our three dogs (Batou is banned from Texas after an incident as a puppy.  HE WOULD BE A GOOD BOY NOW….pussies.) All I can say is thank goodness for painkillers.  Driving hurts like hell, so does sitting and laying down.  Really, getting my knee comfortable is next to impossible.  Which makes it look like an MRI is in my future. 

But for right now, I drugged out…and attempting to do my homework for the week.  As you can see, procrastination is still my number one subject.

*For those of you playing the home game, yes that is one of my siblings many aliases. For those of you new to this, my family has a history of ... um, assumed names.  Bah, it's a long story.