A Day to be Repaired
On May 28th, 2019 I had surgery on my left knee. There was quite the build up to the actual operation though. I had spent nine years trying every other option that my doctor offered to relieve the pain I was constantly living with. Nothing was showing up on the MRI scans or X-rays. No one could tell me what was causing me so much pain. I had gotten to the point that I was starting to think that there was no fix for me, and/or it was all in my head.
It all started October 10th, 2011. I had been dealing with knee issues, mainly jumpers knee, since sixth grade, but that day was different. During color guard practice for our home show that others had been setting up for to go on that night, I was turning around, and when I went to bend my knee, it gave out. Staggering amounts of pain came from my knee and I couldn’t speak through it in a normal voice. I was told by my coach who had to have been 50 yards away, that he heard what sounded like two hollow metal poles hitting each other, and when he turned to look all he found was me on the ground holding my flag like a safety blanket.
My teammates helped me off the field, and my mother was informed. She had been helping set up so she came to check on me. I iced my knee and marched through the pain that night to go on with my marching band. I told no one about the pain for the next week. The weekend after Home Show was the state compotation and I wanted to finish the season. Come Monday I couldn’t walk due to the pain.
This set of events started a sequence of many doctor appointments and treatments that ultimately lead me to being sent to the Mayo Clinic central hospital in Rochester, MN. There I met Dr. Dahm. That woman was my savior. She listened and helped me decide it was finally time to tailor a known surgery to my needs. Before I had been told that there wasn’t great odds that I would have less pain after. She didn’t promise pain reduction either, only that the structure would be repaired and that I would be able to learn to trust my knee again.
So I scheduled the operation for the summer months because I really didn’t want to be on crutches during the winter, plus I could wear shorts with the giant brace that came with recovery. My mom, grandma, and I spent the night before in a hotel. Needing to be at the hospital bright and early, and living three hours away did not mix. Doctors came in to the preop room and signed my knee to make sure we were all on the same page. Didn’t want to cut open the wrong limb. They even showed up this laser guide that helped the nurse put my IV in. My grandma was very interested in that laser thing.
The next thing I knew I was being wheeled into the cold operating room. I don’t remember much after that until I was eating dinner in my room. The doctors were pretty happy that I was hungry after, because the stomach tends to be fairly tired after surgeries.
My mom found a shirt, that I still wear these days, in the gift shop. It states proudly that I was repaired in Rochester. The laughter that shirt caused really helped me feel lighter after the surgery. What made me feel even better was when at my post op appointment, my doctor told me that they found the reason I was in so much pain for so long. The back of my knee cap was pretty damaged from rubbing on the bottom of my femur. With the structure work they did in the surgery, I no longer have to worry about that.
Recovery was quite the process. I hated not being able to do things for myself. My sister heard me complaining about that and found her own way to help me feel better. Normally I am the one who scoops the ice cream for the family when we have it. I couldn’t do that confined to a large chair in the living room though. But my sister told me to grab my lap desk, and brought me over the scoop, the ice cream, and my bowl. I was able to serve myself at least and that absolutely made my day. It was the little things like that, that made me feel more like me.
I will forever be grateful for the scars that I now carry on my knee. 36 stitches, eight weeks using crutches to walk, and four months in a brace at all times. People say that your don’t know what you got until it is gone, and those moments of recovery certainly taught me to value the ability to do things for myself, and to find joy in the little things during the day.
