It’s Fall (Again)

MRI KNEE (LEFT) of 27-OCT-2010
Summary of findings:
1. High-grade tear (near 100%) of the anterior cruciate ligament secondary to a pivot shift injury mechanism.
2. Partial tear of the proximal lateral collateral ligament.
3. Sprain of the medial collateral ligament.
4. Transchondral injuries of the lateral femorotibial compartment as well as the posteromedial tibial plateau.

That was my first Fall.

MRI KNEE (RIGHT) of 03-APR-2024
Summary of findings:
1. Complete tear of the anterior cruciate ligament with mild anterior translation of the tibia with respect to the distal femur.
2. Sprain of the lateral collateral ligament at its femoral attachment.
3. 1.1 x 0.6 x 1.6 cm lobulated, thinly septated ganglion cyst at the musculotendinous junction of the popliteus.
4. Diminutive body and posterior horn of the medial meniscus with suggestion of an oblique tear in the body and a horizontal tear in the posterior horn. A flipped meniscal fragment is also seen adjacent to the medial meniscal posterior root attachment.

This is my second Fall.

I recall the sporadic stabs of excruciating pain that gathered all senses to my knee. I didn’t know then, but that’s my torn meniscus flaps clicking and locking in the wrong places.

The first few episodes with this pain shocked me into paralysis. Every tiny movement sent a new wave of pain through my system. But staying still offered no relief either.

Soon, I would start trembling.

It was terrifying to witness myself shaking, like a leaf desperately hanging onto its branch in the autumn winds.

The only way to relieve this pain is through movement.

These episodes often occurred while I was sitting. The act of standing up became the most significant change I could make and turned out to be the best temporary cure for the pain.

Yet, it was incredibly difficult to stand up when I was reduced to a crying helpless child, dizzy from the pain and hyperventilation.

Those time-stopping moments.

“Are you scared?”

“Are you ready?”

“Are you afraid?”

I don’t have the answers. I just know I need to get this surgery done, just like I did 13 years ago.

My feelings were not going to change the outcome. It has to be done.

The night before, I fell asleep like a log.

On the day, I was admitted 4-hour prior. We watched the entire Demon Slayer from scratch. I thought about nothing.

As we got closer to 4PM, I started hearing Jon but not listening to anything he was saying. It’s been a while since I was unable to be present, and there I was, finally feeling the imminent moment weighing on me.

On the operating table, as they hooked me up to the ECG, I could hear the beeping speed up as — once again — I saw the operating lights and various people in different coloured scrubs staring down at me.

I felt like a slab of meat on a cold metal tray.

The anesthetist told me to think happy thoughts. I tried, but I’ve no happy thoughts in my repository except stock images of rainbows and unicorns.

Someone gave me oxygen and told me to take deep breaths. After a few breaths, the anesthetist repeated: “Think happy thoughts.”

The last thing I saw was myself dancing.

Once again.