I have been moving toward surgery to replace my ailing left knee joint.  It has been a slow lurch, after years of increasing physical limitation, and the next step is to meet with a surgeon and set up the surgery.  Meanwhile, I am doing PT and trying to choose a surgeon, basically blind.  The two who were highly recommended do not seem to accept Medicare’s discounted payment.  

Last night, after a leisurely walk of about a mile, during which I spent most of that time resting on benches along my little circular route, I went out for a last bit of air.  Called Sekhnet and one minute into the call found myself suddenly falling, my right knee, the one that has been bearing most of the weight for a long time, suddenly deciding to send me an urgent message.  The knee said “fuck you, I’ve been doing most of the fucking heavy lifting and weight bearing here for a long time, and the burden on me gets heavier and heavier as you fret about your ‘bad’ knee and its thousand dollar brace.  How’s this for a bad knee, you merciless, heedless fuck?”   With that the knee simply folded as I extended it to shift my weight onto it, without so much as a “watch out, fucker!”

I fell so suddenly that my head hit the pavement, just above the left eye, with a bounce on the side of my nose.  I saw the stars you see in a cartoon when somebody gets cracked in the skull, bright white stars with exclamation points.   Luckily I didn’t break my head, or even my nose. My left hand, the guitar fretting hand, took the brunt of the impact, as did my left knee and several ribs on the left side.  Fucking hell.   Managed to make it to a nearby stoop where I sat and took stock of my injuries.  Luckily, nothing seemed to be broken.  The limp back to my place was painful as hell, the right leg weak, wobbly and inflamed with every step, the skinned left knee cap making its distres known.  Up two flights of stairs, which took a bit longer than usual, but not awful.

Bag of frozen peas on my barked left knee cap, with my left hand on top, swaddled in ice.  Took two extra strength tylenols,  sat back in my easy chair.  The pain mercifully yielded as I spoke to Sekhnet, reassured her that I was OK, and took a call from an old friend who gave his two cents about concussion protocol.  The idea of a seven hour wait Saturday night at my local Emergency Room didn’t appeal to me, I wasn’t dizzy, hadn’t been knocked out, my vision was fine, my speech wasn’t slurred.  In yer proverbial abundance of caution Sekhnet came by and picked me up, took me to the farm to observe me and take me to a hospital if I suddenly took an ominous turn.

Slept OK, much to my surprise.  Woke up today feeling twenty-five years older than I did when I woke up yesterday.  Fucking hell.   Will be wearing my knee brace and walking with the cane until I can get the knee operation worked out.  You betcha.