Feeling F*ing Old

I believe I mentioned on more than one recent occasion that my knees are bothering me. I was in pain almost every day we were in Italy during May. At times, knee pain woke me during the night when I shifted positions. But it was erratic.

Some days it was the left knee, some days the right. One or two days were good, with no pain in either knee. But there were days I couldn't walk without pain.

When I returned, I saw the orthopedist, who shot both knees full of cortisone and said he'd see me in about four months when it wore off.

But then I thought I was young again and did some landscaping work in the back yard. Oops. Bad decision. I was trying to chop a root that was in the way of the brick border I was installing on a bed of hostas and day lilies. I chopped and chopped with the shovel, then stupidly hopped on the shovel. When the shovel turned, I turned with it, hearing lots of snaps, crackles and pops as my left foot slammed into the earth and my left knee gave way.

A shot of cortisone evidently cannot counteract stupidity. Last week we spent our annual week at Madison-on-the-Lake, and every step was accompanied by pain. Almost the only time I was without pain was when I was standing in cold Lake Erie, flexing my left knee.

No we're back home. I called the ortho's office this morning, but the secretary has not called me back. I asked to see my doctor ASAP, but we must have different definitions of ASAP.

How much pain am I in? I want to sit and cry. Just cry!

When am I not in pain? When I'm sitting on the couch with an icepack on my knee.

How much am I enjoying being past 60 years of age and all the health challenges that involves? Not so much.

The photo above is from my birthday weekend in 2010, about a month after all this knee nonsense began with a fall and a torn left medial meniscus.

In case you haven't figured it out, aging is not for wimps!!!