We take a lot for granted

The Don Joy Off Loading Knee Brace

Yesterday, I went to the orthopedic surgeon for the results of my recent MRI.

I was hesitant to hear what he had to say and speculated the worst - knee replacement surgery, but thankfully, that's not in the cards just yet.

He did say I have a lateral meniscus tear, two subchondral pseudocysts, and severe arthritis. After giving me that news, he left the room, a nurse entered and drew up a syringe with Cortisone. I watched as she carefully laid out the bandages, a numbing spray, the long needled syringe, and some antiseptic wipes. As she left the room, I turned to my husband and grimaced.

I'd had a cortisone injection in my ankle joint last year. It was extremely painful. I wasn't looking forward to another injection but knew it was coming.

About five minutes later, the doctor came back into the room and had me sit on the exam table, pants rolled up, as he lifted the needle. "Just imagine yourself sitting on a dock dangling your feet over the edge of the water..." And then he jabbed me! Oh, gravy!!! The numbing spray helped some but there was intense pressure and pain.

A couple of minutes later, he was done and ordering the nurse to take me over to the physical therapy department to be fitted with an off loading knee brace. He said we'd see how I did over the next 6 weeks and if I wasn't much better when I came back, he'd do arthroscopic surgery to remove the damaged tissue and hopefully keep me from having to have a total replacement.

The off loading knee brace is a weird looking structure - a thick flexible plastic webbing with several large velcro straps. It's supposed to take the pressure off of the "bad" side of my knee and transfer it to the "good" side.

As I walked/hobbled out of the doctor's office, I realized how much I take for granted. Being unable to bend my knee caused me to remember the days of immobility I suffered after a bad accident in 1991. During that time, I was confined to a wheelchair and couldn't walk for over 3 years.

I knew my knees had been suffering. The creaks and groans they made when bending or stretching reminded me I was aging, but I didn't expect to suffer such damage just getting out of the bathtub. In one split moment, my knee was damaged.

So today, as I maneuver through my house with my lovely brace on and a handy, dandy walker in tow, I think I need to be more cognizant of my health. I need to thank God for the parts that are still functioning and forget about the parts I've lost.

It's really strange when you think about how a broken and scarred body can still function without so many parts - I've not only lost both breasts to cancer, I've lost my thyroid gland, my gallbladder, and my uterus.

As a child, I remember playing the game "Operation." As I'd work carefully to keep from setting off the buzzer as I removed tiny, white, play bones, I never imagined a body could live without vital organs or parts.

But I'm still here and I'm proof it is doable.

I'm hoping I don't end up losing my knees in the near future. I've heard terrible things about knee replacement surgeries. Maybe this brace, the walker, the pain meds, and time will help my wounds heal and maybe, I'll focus on being a little more grateful for the pieces and parts I still have left inside of me.

Life is so short and I still have much to do. I need functioning knees to help me accomplish those goals. Please pray I get to keep them.

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, especially when I read a friend's blog post and I just can't wrap my head around it. This morning, I was reading a post from a fellow breast cancer survivor. She said her cancer has returned and is growing in her spine. As soon as I read the words, I burst into tears. I just didn't understand! We'd been diagnosed with the same type of cancer in the same year. How could it be that her cancer had returned and mine had not? And what made it even more difficult to understand and accept was the fact that she'd chosen to go the traditional treatment route. I'd opted not to do that. She'd endured chemotherapy, radiation, and the anti-hormone therapy afterward. I'd refused chemo, had done 28 rounds of radiation, and had only taken the anti-hormone drugs for a couple of months. It just didn't compute and it certainly didn't seem fair. But that's what sucks about cancer. It doesn't follow the rules.

Cancer the gift that keeps on giving - the high cost of cancer

There's a basket of bills sitting in the corner of my bedroom. I try not to look at it as I enter the room but I know it's there. Its contents spill out onto the floor whenever my husband stuffs another bill into the basket. Usually, when the mail comes, he gets it first so he can filter what I see and what I don't see. Since he's the only one working, he takes care of our financial responsibilities and while I'm thankful for that, I'm not ignorant about our mounting bills. Cancer is expensive. Even if you've reached maintenance phase, it's costly. There are always tests to be run, blood to be taken, doctors to see. It never ends. Just knowing this will be a continual process for the rest of my life frustrates me and the alternative, death, will be my only way out. It would be nice to know that cancer could be a once and done kind of thing but that's only wishful thinking. Everyone knows cancer is a long and very involved illness. I had no id

Incoming!

When I was a kid, I remember listening to my Daddy occasionally talk about being in the service. Those occasions were very rare so whenever he'd talk, I'd really listen. Once he told about being outside a bunker in Japan. He said planes were flying overhead and he heard a guy yell, "Incoming!" They knew that meant it was imperative to take cover and they did, but some of the soldiers weren't fast enough. They lost their lives in a split second. That one word was a very serious warning and one I never forgot. I think my eyes bugged out of my head when he first said it although he didn't say it in a frightening way. I imagined the sounds of aircraft overhead as the warning went out. And imagined how I'd have felt if I'd been right there with him. I'd have been petrified, probably unable to move. No wonder so many soldiers came back from war with post traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD). And when they were freshly home, it didn't take much to set t

Journey Out of Pink

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