I recently had my fourth surgery — one more and I get a free dinner. Last November, I tore the meniscus in my right knee and had arthroscopic surgery. Recovered fantastically and kept doing what I was doing. Well, a month ago, I tore the meniscus in my left knee.
Years of soccer, tennis, hiking, marathons and now CrossFit. As Indiana Jones once said, “it’s not the years, it’s the mileage.”
Like last fall, the plan was the same. Steroids. Rest. No progress. MRI. Diagnosis. Yup, torn. Schedule surgery with same surgeon. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Early last Monday was the surge. Waiting in the holding area, the already-masked anesthesiologist walked in, introduced himself and I recognized his name.
“You went to high school with my wife,” I said. “Oh, and you did her epidural when we had our son.” Smallest big city ever, Rockford is.
A nurse wheeled me into the OR after the pre-op shenanigans and I met the team. One of the nurses noted my unusual name and I noted hers — thanks for the great work, “Raven.” After some chit-chat, the anesthesiologist said he was giving me something to relax me and it was lights out, and away I went.
Next thing I remember was sipping a Sprite in recovery. The surgery went well and, after 30 minutes, I walked out — yes, walked out — under the guidance of my physical therapist, who also happens to be my wife. Later, she noted some things I’d said while regaining my faculties, none of which I remembered but none of which were apparently incriminating either. Phew.
I joked with my chiropractor recently that maybe I’d be better off sitting on the couch eating cookies. He laughed and said, “well, this will sound odd, but I’m ok when my patients get hurt. It means they’re active.”
Mmmmm, cookies. But, yes, active is good and active I shall remain.
I’m Wester Wuori, on the road to recovery yet again, and that’s my Perspective.
