I went to see a specialist today and, apparently, I have patellar tendinitis. This is actually pretty good news! (I know, I know, I’m shocked about it) The best part? There is a very good chance that this will go away and I’ll never have to worry about it again. I was potentially facing a lifetime with sore knees and I can’t even begin to describe what a relief this is. It’s like finding out that it was all a terrible joke when an April Fool’s gag goes wrong. The universe said “just fucking with you” and then hit the reset button.
I fully admit that I’m not always all that good at taking a joke.
So, let’s all cross our fingers that this clears itself up. There’s a good chance that it could go away on its own if I take massive amounts of ibuprofen, ice it at night and avoid stairs like the plague. I’m not, however, all that fond of the “cross your fingers” method. So, I’ll be doing physical therapy. In like, seven years.
(Ok, 32 days)
Oh, the wonders of our medical system. I bet I wouldn’t have to wait 32 days for botox.
(Of course, I’d be paying out of pocket for botox)
(Which means that I just got all up and arms about an apples to oranges type situation)
(Parenthesis abuse, I does it)
If all goes well, I could be playing sports again in 2-3 months. And he gave me the go-ahead to ride a stationary bike and lift weights again. I’m just supposed to avoid lunges, squats and deep knee bends.
In the meantime, I will continue to whine at Kristian to get me things on other floors of our house. Do you think that I could somehow convince him that the doctor said I need foot massages? And a lot of them?
