Let me explain:
As the doctors would say, I have "sloppy knees." Most people's kneecaps sit comfortably in a deep groove, and never go anywhere. My groove is shallow and misshapen. My kneecaps like to move around.
We didn't know this until that fateful game of "Capture the Flag." As I sprinted to the opponents' side, I felt something in my knee go wonky, there was a jerking sensation...then I felt pain--excruciating pain--pain unmatched by anything I'd ever experienced. (If you've had the misfortune of dislocating a knee cap, you know what I'm talking about).
I laid on the gym floor, looked down at my distorted knee, and screamed. I didn't know what had happened--I only knew that something was terribly wrong. I remember my gym teacher rushing up, telling me it looked like I dislocated my knee cap. She said I was so brave for not crying (I started sobbing, the moment the words left her mouth). And I remember everyone staring. They stared the whole fifteen minutes it took for the ambulance to come. They stared as I sobbed while the EMTs rolled me onto a towel, lifted me onto a stretcher and pushed the stretcher out of the gym. And they stared when I came into school on crutches the next day. I spent three hours being pumped full of pain medication (even only slightly coherent, I screamed at anyone who tried to touch me). Just as I've never felt as much pain in my life, I've never felt so much relief as when they re-located my knee.When my mom recalls the story she always mentions how all the color flooded back into my face and I broke into a fit of giggles.
Now, I know I'm making this sound terribly traumatic, and I understand that the situation could've been far worse, but I was beyond embarrassed. (I was only twelve and this was a very juicy story in my small town junior high..."Did you hear what happened to Siri in gym today? ...I hear someone pushed her (NOT true)..."). And, as I've said, I've never experienced a pain so intense.
There's really not anything the doctors can do to fix my knees--a few elective surgeries, perhaps, but no sure fixes--nothing they can do to change the structure my knees. I'm also known to involuntarily smack anyone that touches my knees. I'm thrown into a state of panic at the thought of visiting the doctor and knowing he will have to examine them. Yikes. All of it makes me such a mess.
This is a post I sincerely hoped I would never have to make. I've been having these issues with my knees for the past seven years. (With two complete dislocations and three partial). My knees are largely to blame for the "non-athelte" label I've given myself. I've hurt myself running, walking down stairs, and shimmying while hiking up my pants. Naturally, I avoided situations where I might throw a knee out.
When I started running a few months ago and made plans to run the half marathon in February, it had been a year and a half since I had knee troubles. After limiting myself for years, I was ready to push myself physically, I was ready to make myself an athlete. I was naive to think running would be totally safe or that I wasn't setting myself up for injury. I was naive to believe that my knees were fine. They're not.
Yesterday, I was cleaning the kitchen when I slipped on a puddle of water. There was no writhing around in pain. There was no ambulance. I haven't even seen the doctor yet. As I slipped, I felt the oh-so-framilar jerk in my knee, I heard the snap, I felt the pain. But it only lasted a moment! Out and back in! Just another partial dislocation (thank God)! I just sat on the floor a cried for a bit because it hurt and I was alone and scared. I dragged myself across the room to the phone to let my dad know what had happened. He said he'd come home right away and I scooted to the living room and cried some more because it occurred to me that this meant I probably couldn't run and I would probably never be an athlete and I would probably have to deal with this for the rest of my life. Boo.
Today, I'm feeling better. My knee is not throbbing, it's just rather sore and swollen. And I've shaken my defeatist attitude (at least a little). I know that my recovery is going to take awhile. I'll probably be in a brace for the next two weeks, and I'll have to ease my way back into exercise. I really don't know if I'm going to be able to run. I have no clue if I'm going to be able to do the half. But I'm not ready to be heartbroken yet. I've come a long way in the last year, and even the last few months and I won't stop my journey that easily. I will visit the doctor and talk surgeries, custom braces, whatever I can do to make this thing happen! I'm so sick of being limited by this. It. Just. Sucks. If we can figure out a solution, I'm going to do it--even if (heaven forbid) someone has to touch my knees.
(A quick side-note: Obviously, if the doctor thinks that running is ill-advised, I'll have to find something else--for now, I can only hope and pray for the best! I realize, though, that I ultimately have to do what it best for my health).