It's a Long-Post Wednesday

I didn't get a flu shot. So far, no flu. Now, watch - I'll come down with a nasty case of something tomorrow. My mom and I are headed to Chicago for a long weekend to see a show and take in some museums. And shopping, of course! I'm getting myself prepared by listening to Christmas tunes today. Too early? Nah. It only comes once a year; I figure I might as well suck as much joy out of the season as I can.

In other news ... I got some confirmation on my running problems today. I have mentioned my knee pain a little on this blog, but I don't think I've dwelled on it. It's part of the reason my running routine has all but vanished, but I didn't allow myself to pay enough attention to it while I was running regularly. I always figured a little pain was normal (and it is, with this knee. I've had ongoing pain of some level since I had surgery 10 years ago).

During the past few weeks, though, it's gotten really bad. I walk the dog every night and lately, by the time I reach the end of our block, my knee hurts so badly that I have to stop and stretch it out. I usually end up cutting the walk short and limping home. Isn't this what happens to 70-year-old women? Yeah, I'd say it's been screaming for attention.

So today, I saw my first orthopedist since I had my last surgery in December 1998. What I learned should be a lesson to everyone: IT IS NOT GOOD TO IGNORE PAIN, PEOPLE! See, I had my second surgery right in the middle of my freshman year of college. Really, at that time in my life, there were much more important things to worry about than physical therapy. The crutches and brace cramped my party-going style, so I ditched those earlier than I was supposed to. And physical therapy? Yeah, that never happened. It would have required getting out of bed before 9 a.m., and like I said, I had better things going on.

And now I'm paying for it ... the lack of therapy and ongoing stress I put on my knees has caused my once-reconstructed ACL to basically detach. It's "stretched out," to the point that my doctor could wobble my knee around like a ball inside my skin without any resistance.

For now, I'm trying out 6 weeks of physical therapy to strengthen my hamstring and quad muscles in hopes my leg will learn to better support my knee. But this will not stabilize my knee - only surgery can do that. Ughhhhhhhh surgery. It was so bad the first time around that I'm really reluctant to give that a try again. But I also would like to be able to walk my dog more than 3 blocks and, ideally, do a hell of a lot more than that. Like run again. So ... we'll see. I'm not making any decisions right now. What I do know: I was stupid when I was 18. But I feel a little validated that I wasn't crying about knee pain for nothin' when I was running. It makes me feel a little less guilty about letting that part of my life go for the time being.

Another side note from the doctor's office: (and for the record, I just think doctor's offices are one of the most fascinating places on the planet. Like airports and malls - they make for fabulous people-watching. Last time I was at the Dr., I had a 5-year-old kid propose to me, so I always come away with stories ... but I digress) When the nurse brought me to the smaller waiting room to wait for the doctor, there was a Somali woman sitting in there by herself. When the nurse turned to leave, the woman started yelling to get her attention and somehow communicated the point that she needed an interpreter. This nurse - who I imagine has to deal with language barriers like this every day - proceeds to do the cliche, "I'LL SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS - IN ENGLISH - AND ASSUME THAT WILL HELP YOU UNDERSTAND ME! AND I'LL DO IT ALL WITH A CONDESCENDING TONE!" Then she came back into the room about 5 minutes later (sans interpreter, btw) and did the exact same thing. This woman was left there, looking completely frustrated, mumbling to herself.

This city has a lot of diversity: we have many refugees living here, in fact, who probably didn't plan to come to America, but somehow ended up here and now are left to adapt to a completely new life, environment, society, etc. It just got me thinking about how difficult it would be to be in her shoes. She must feel completely isolated in everything she encounters every, single day. Whatever your views on immigration or whatever circumstance brought this woman here, no one can deny that this would be a sad and lonely life. There are thousands of people in this metro area with the same experience. And the only time I really notice them is at the doctor's office, when the nurses yell loud enough.

And that, my friends, is Wednesday's soapbox.