I wish the prognosis were better. Best case scenario--ten years before knee replacement. Worst case--knee replacement next summer. Or any time really. My knee is in pitiful shape. Why? It's not from the arthritis which looks mild on X-ray and MRI (except the first doctor I saw said the arthritis was pretty bad. I'm seeing my rheumotologist [sic] to discuss this). From the photos of the surgery my cartilage was in shreds. The surgeon told Dale that it was very disappointing to see such a messed up knee in one so young and I am only fifty-one years young.
All the fat years had something to do with it, my own recklessness, bad genes, luck. Boo. I will never be able to run. Or jump. But please fashion gods leave me enough wiggle to wear a bit of heel. And gods of body and footbeds let me play. Let me dive. Let me travel. Let me learn to navigate wisely through this last portion of my life. Let me at this late hour do a backbend.