My secretary told me when I turned 40 that everything would go to hell. I expected it to be a downhill journey; I didn't expect it to be driving over a cliff.
I messed my knee up about 6 weeks ago. Moving a refrigerator, heard a pop, immediately couldn't put any weight on it. It got a little better, then about 2 weeks later it popped again while I was just standing in a line.
Anyway, I'm having to baby it. No stairs, no running, no advanced sexual positions (okay, any sexual positions). Seriously, when it's bad, I can barely walk. And I've learned that it'll be really bad after an orthopedic surgeon yanks on it for about 10 minutes, makes it click a lot, and tries to make it twist and turn in ways it probably hasn't done for about 15 years anyway.
The funny thing about all this is that everyone in my family has had major knee surgery. So I have a lot of input from people who I never solicit advice from. I keep asking, "Where did you get your medical degree from? I can't remember." The best thing is that my Dad keeps sending me email with helpful tips like this:
GET A SECOND OPINION!!!!!!! I HAD THREE BEFORE I GOT MY LAST HIP REPLACED. DO YOU HAVE A COMPANY DOCTOR YOU COULD DISCUSS WITH? READ PAGE18 IN SUNDAYS OCT.9 PAGE 18 ,GOOD ARTICLE ON THE KNEE PARADE MAGAZINE. DELAY ANY SURGERY.
Yup, that wily Shift key apparently eludes Pop when he's trying to give me medical advice. Luckily Parade Magazine is also the functional equivalent to the New England Journal of Medicine.
Am I the only one who finds that kind of email hilarious? It's like getting a telegram from the old west. I just wish he would say STOP instead of using a period.
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Against my better judgment I picked up a Cosmopolitan magazine yesterday at the grocery store. The cover teased me with info on a new position--the 77. The 77, I think, will be within the grasp of a geriatic with a blown knee.
Count your blessings. At least he didn't send his message via pigeon.
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