Happy Birthday, dear knee!

Yesterday, 4 years ago, I underwent my last surgery (to date). Counting 3 injections in my shoulder and one major operation, a screw in my right hand thumb, countless MRIs, CT scans, a very painful steroid injection and four operations to my knee, a 'birthday' is a nice time to look back. 

A little over four years ago, I could barely walk 100 meters before my knee would give up on me. Now many hours (many hours) of physio therapy later, ups and downs, I can walk. Not great distances, but at least I can walk to the supermarket without much trouble. On occasion that might be with a limp, and recently it has been with perma tape on my knee, but walk I can. And do. 

So here is a little photo essay (spam) of my joint adventures. If you have any questions regarding hyper mobility, dislocation/(sub)luxation of joints, please do not hesitate to ask me.

Pain

One of the most difficult things you can experience in relation to medical conditions is how to describe pain. And it is equally difficult for medical professionals to interpret pain. What I describe as a '2', might be a '6' for you (Pain is often scaled on a level of 0 to 10. Where 0 is no pain at all, and 10 is unbearable). 

Aside from the level of pain there are many different forms, sharp pain, stabbing pain, numb pain, nagging pain, throbbing pain, and so on, and so forth. 

No pain at all is obviously not that hard to imagine, but what is unbearable pain? Is that when you faint? And what if you don't faint that easily? If you've never had that much pain it is quite hard to label pain. 

Sometimes people try to compare it to different types of injury. I've often said sometimes 'it feels like I've been stabbed with a knife', but.. I've never been stabbed. So, how would I know? 

This is not only something patients do. By medical professionals the dislocation of a rib is sometimes described as feeling 'like a heart attack'. But how would they know? And how should I? (Now I've had dislocated ribs, I can tell: it feels like shit). 

But in all this ambiguity, the assessment of pain is incredibly vital for the treatment of this pain. The worst thing any medical professional can do, is give a patient the feeling that they aren't being taken seriously. Because no matter the source of pain, as insignificant as it may be, pain is real and scary.

Part of treating pain is, understanding what causes it. Because not knowing the source of pain can make you fearful, which makes you tense, which in turn generally increases the pain.

The one advice I would like to give is, be your own agent. If you are in pain, and you feel you do not get taken seriously by whatever medical professional you are dealing with, press on, explain that you will feel better if you know what causes the pain if it gets explained to you. And if need be, do not be afraid to seek help from another medical professional. They are all human, they make mistakes, sometimes you just have a bad connection, the most important thing is that you put yourself first. After all, no one knows your body as well as you do.

A decade

Measures of time always seem more impressive in words than numbers. 10 years doesn't nearly carry the magnitude of 'a decade'. But in the case of my knee, a decade is definitely more in place. February 5 2004 was the day when, in hindsight, my life changed, forever. 

What seemed an innocent enough knee injury over time changed into something far more permanent. It brought me to where I am today. 

Four operations, well over six months on crutches and countless hours rehabbing. And still, twice a week I head to the training room to faithfully work through my exercises. Ever adding to the hours in the gym. A quick crunch of numbers and a careful estimate now puts me on over 1400 hours. 86.400 minutes. A decade. Perhaps numbers are more impressive than words.

I am proud with where I am today. I'm physically stronger than I have ever been, throwing myself into weight training and pushing myself harder every week. I supersede the goals I set, and keep setting new ones. It challenges me. Not just physically. But mentally too. Different exercises, challenging exercises, they keep the process fresh. 

I no longer try to want what I can't have. I still want to run. Desperately. I can envision myself running an endurance marathon. The brainwashing monotone left-right left-right. For hours on end. I miss it. But I try not to want it. And that is progress.