Back in 2006, I was finishing a morning run when my left knee felt like it wanted to leave me, immediately.  Disengage so to speak.  The skin prevented an escape and held the angry guy inside.  I needed to settle this urge to secede and sought out a medical professional.

After an MRI and a ten-minute discussion, my running days ended.  I never really understood technically speaking, the cause for disagreement between my knee and me.  It was more like the love was gone that bonded our relationship and the constant pounding broke us up.  I had to stop my recreational affair with running in order to keep us together.  Or, we could undergo an horrific surgery that even the doc said he wouldn’t do if he could help it.  Thus, I made the sacrifice.  I quit running.

Jackpot! Bring an MRI report to your next game.

Fast-forward seven years:  Swimming and spinning replaced running.  All was good until my left knee started screaming for attention again.  I’m not sure of the cause, unsupportive, cute flats?  Fashion is never a practical friend.  Every relationship can use a tune-up so I searched for a friendly, athletic professional, one who is handy at mending break-ups.  I fondly refer to him as Ortho Man, an orthopedic surgeon.

Another MRI and a very different discussion ensued.  Ortho Man believes in new leases on life, enjoy the ride while you are here.  “I can fix it for you.”  I was worse.  I couldn’t sprint for tennis shots or ringing telephones without the knee crying out, “Stop!  You are ruining us!”  Or standing in place, I could suddenly feel a sharp elbow jab to my knee.  “Hey You!  I need some LOVE!”  I sacrificed enough.  I’m not giving up any more sports and I am most definitely not giving up cute shoes.  I agreed to surgery.

One would think after seven years, the procedure would be more Star-Treky.  Wave a pen light over the injury and suddenly it’s as good as new, no blood!  All gain and no pain.  Cell phones evolve every six months; surely knee surgeries are keeping pace.  No such luck.  Human fracking is the best way to describe this barbaric procedure.  Fracking is a method of extracting oil by poking holes in the earth, injecting a fluid until the oil rises to the surface.  With a little imagination, this process can be applied to knees, less the fluid injection step.

This round I wanted to understand my situation, give it a name.  I started with the MRI report.  Both my husband and I got a good laugh.  If nothing was wrong with a particular area, it was described as “unremarkable.”  Is this even a word?  It’s in the dictionary.  Who uses it?  “How are you today?”  “Unremarkable. Thanks.”

I knew this would be valuable some day. Real deal album.

Then we got to the remarkable stuff and it meant even less.  Forty-two words of triple-point Scrabble words defined a bad break-up or knee pain.  Is the radiologist paid by the letter?  I’ll hum a few bars:  ….heterogeneous hyaline cartilage with underlying sclerosis and trabecular edema…medial femoral condylar osteophytes…. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious anyone?

The MRI report made about as much sense as Mary Poppin’s catchy tune.  At least her made-up word is fun.  I still couldn’t describe my issue in simple “ACL” or “Meniscus” lingo.  After consulting Ortho Man, even he had to find ordinary words for me.  I am just not a med-tech gal.  “You are essentially getting a running shoe in your knee.”  Shoe?  I can relate.  I can say I am getting a shoezle on my knee; it fits.  Remarkable.