When I last reconstructed my knee in 2006, I was fresh off a previous injury and furious over the loss of two back-to-back seasons. I went into surgery sad, rehabbed in anger, and came back to sports scared; my knee had nothing but bad energy going into it from day one.
Of course, bad energy can’t stay in you for too long. I postponed it for five years, but the release finally came last week; a small drop starved for snow and the bones of my leg slipped over each other in that sickening, familiar way. I curled into the slope and screamed out everything; all the anger, fear, and pain left in that joint. Then I skied down and called Alpine Orthopedics.
Now I have no visible kneecap, three fresh scars and a burly new ACL. My fourth, including the one I was born with. I spent my first lucid day indoors yesterday while my friends flocked to the new snow, and felt once again like some kind of crazed, trapped animal.
But, I don’t feel anger. I don’t feel fear. I feel sad for the lost potential of the next six months, but I’m already creating other things to get excited about. Above all I’m focused on simply pouring as much love into this new joint as I can.
Oh, and hey, I might just give that “biking” sport a try.