Step by Step

We’re climbing Jacob’s Ladder

– Huey Lewis and the News

Imagine, if you will, the points of a compass:

Now, envision how those cardinal points apply to your knee. You’ve got the front (N), the sides (W + E), and the back (S).

To round out this thought scenario, take West and East and imagine them in pain. From the moment you rise out of bed in the morning to the moment you go to sleep. Usually, they are far from debilitating, but the pain is always there.

It’s not just one knee, either.

And this has been going on for a year and a half.

You are no stranger to knee pain, either. You’ve been dealing with that since the end of 2020. But the pain on the outside of both knees, that was new. And it struck right as you were overcoming your initial pain after a year+ of that nonsense.

Now it’s approaching the end of 2023. Compared to the original state of near-agony and fiery hot flareups in June 2022, this current limbo state where they’re neither improving nor regressing is acceptable. You can sleep through the night. You can still walk. You can exercise to some extent.

And considering the dual ankle sprains and calf strains that nearly undid you in September of last year (2022), you’ve had it a lot worse.

Still, there have been sacrifices:

You haven’t been able to get on the ground since June 2022.

You can’t lift most things since that involves your legs.

You don’t cook as much anymore because that involves a lot of standing and pivoting.

You have given up on running ever again.

You can’t jump.

You can’t date. Who would want to deal with someone who has to spend 1.5-2 hours a day stretching and exercising?

So, after your mom insisting many, many times for you to go back and force the doctors to take another look at everything because “no 28-year-old should be this debilitated,” you begrudgingly book an appointment with the doctor.

More so for her than yourself. You’re convinced this is as good as things are going to get. The doctor will shrug, say something about how meniscal tears are a tricky business, and send you on your way.

It’s what they’ve done before.

Still, in that moment, you ask yourself:

Is this really how I want the rest of my life to go?

You already know the answer, even if years of setback and stagnation have engrained grim realism and the belief that such questions only lead to further disappointment.

Plus, you’ve made improvements. You have a new job, one with much better insurance and a much more flexible schedule. Physical therapy worked once, but your previous work made you feel like the world would come crashing down if you had to duck out for an hour.

Now, not so much. And if you’re paying for these benefits each paycheck, why not use them?

So the doctor tells you “it’s probably a muscle or flexibility issue. Your meniscus never looked problematic to me.”

He writes you a script for PT.

You find one just down the street that’s in network. And you start going.

At first, you regret the whole idea. Not only is the pain not improving, but it’s getting worse.

Then, after the first month, improvement. You can balance on one leg. When’s the last time you did that?

Another month, and the pain is lessening. You can squat. You can lunge. You can get on the ground and do core exercises. Pushups. When’s the last time you did that?

Another month, and you’re doing RDLs. Standing on one leg and rotating your entire torso with your hip as the fulcrum. You’ve never done that in your entire life.

Another month, and you’re running. Jogging, really. A bit awkwardly. Still, when’s the last time you did that?

Another month, and jogging has turned to actual running. Flexibility is returning. Muscles are developing to meet the new load. When’s the last time you did that?

Another month, and you’re dancing as exercise. Trying to build up more tolerance to motions that aren’t “clinical.” After all, how often in your daily life do you get to set, tense, and follow perfect form? You dodge out of someone’s way in the hall. No time to mentally prepare the motion. You need to work in some more dynamism. When’s the last time you danced?

And then, as life goes, you hit a detour. One ninety-degree pivot and bang. New pain. Holy shit, not again.

And yet, not the same as previous setbacks. No crying. No lamenting and lambasting God or whatever is keeping watch up there.

Only a quiet determination to not let this be the start of the backslide.

A muttered fine, an eyeroll, and a bag of ice.

You go back to the doctor. Get an order for an MRI. Never thought you’d have to go back to the imaging lab, but isn’t it nice that it’s on the opposite corner from your apartment?

But this time they don’t let you read a book while on the slab. Shame, you really were looking forward to finishing off that old favorite.

At last, after a month waiting for the MRI, an answer:

Nothing is wrong.

“What do you mean, nothing?” you want to shout.

It’s a strange moment. Your knee is in pain, albeit less pain than the start of this latest circus two months ago. The typical causes are not appearing on the scan. You’re told you don’t need surgery (because there’s nothing to repair) and to keep up with physical therapy.

You’re both happy to avoid surgery and confused.

And that’s where I am today.

So what’s the takeaway here? That all that effort was for nothing?

Fuck no.

Even today, I’m able to do things I couldn’t do a scant 11 months ago. I can balance on one leg (even the painful one). I can squat. I can lunge. I can continue to get on the ground and do all sorts of exercises previously barred to me.

Hell, I’m even doing yoga now. I meditate. I’m losing weight.

This was not a complete regression. A setback, for sure, but a detour. Not a dead end.

The true takeaway lies with past me who didn’t give up in that first month of physical therapy. Even when it really seemed like it was doing more harm than good.

He, for the first time in years, believed that things could change despite all of the stagnation.

And today, I still believe that things can change.

Hope is a powerful thing. It can inspire and wound in equal measures. I’ve been down both roads.

Imagine my surprise in August when I stared down the road of despair and said, “Eh, no.”

So I will continue to work at this latest problem, all the while celebrating things like all the restored function listed above.

Also the fact that the outside pain that was so debilitating in June 2022 has, for the most part, vanished.

It will not be missed.

And in January, armed with a refreshed FSA, I will be returning to the physical therapy practice down the street.

“What brings me back? Well, I have a new book out, so it was time to injure myself and make some sales,” I’ll tell them. Several of the staff bought my debut novel.

Do I wish this were a tale of linear progress? That I worked at the problem and now it’s gone?

Sure. Who wouldn’t?

Do I know that life is a bit more complicated than that?

Also, yes.

But now I know…

…there’s reason to believe.