As you may know, I had knee surgery a few weeks ago.
You see, Last December I went to a trampoline center. I was enticed by something that'll probably never happen for me without significant elastic assistance: dunking. That's right, they had a giant trampoline under a basketball hoop. How could I say no? What could go wrong?
Welp, an ACL tear, for one.
The good news: at the end of April I finally had the surgery to fix the ACL tear.
The bad news: during the surgery my doctor also found a tear in my meniscus.
The meniscus thing didn't come from the trampoline. It most likely happened one day at my house, a month or two after the trampoline injury, when I was coming down the short staircase in our garage. As I stepped down, my knee buckled. I fell sideways. Against the wall. With my knee fully flexed. Now, I didn't realize this until my ACL was gone, but you can't flex your knee all the way without an ACL. Not without ridiculous pain. So yeah. The wipeout resulted in me lying on the garage floor, writhing in agony, my head on a bag full of garbage. My wife was there to witness the whole embarrassing event. Not my finest moment.
What does the meniscus tear mean? It adds a week of crutches, bringing my total to four weeks.
Aside from being on crutches, I wear a knee immobilizer. It's a velcro sleeve that runs from mid-thigh to just above my ankle, and it has a stiff backing, to remind me not to bend the knee.
The good news: with the immobilizer and the crutches, so far I've avoided reinjuring the knee and have gotten a lot stronger.
The bad news: since about April 27th, I've been mostly useless at home.
Can I pick up Tess? No.
Can I get her out of her crib? No.
Can I bring her down stairs? No.
Can I get her out of her carseat? No.
Can I put her into her carseat? No.
So can I take Tess to and from school? Nope.
Can I change a diaper, vacuum, bring in groceries from the car, clear dishes from the table? No, no, no, and no.
Can I so much as carry an item from one room to another in the house? No.
Like I said, I've been mostly useless. My wife is a saint.
The good news: we've had lots of help--my sister-in-law Mary and mother-in-law Susan each made us dinners, my folks selflessly came to Maine for a week to bail us out right after the surgery, and we hired a BHP (behavioral health professional), whose job is to work with Tess on eating, potty training, and walking.
The bad news: my folks had to return to Syracuse, and the BHP is leaving Maine at the end of May to start a new job.
Things are looking up, though. I just got upgraded to one crutch instead of two, freeing up my left hand. I can do so much more now. This coming week, my PT and doctor seem to think I'll be ready to ditch the crutches entirely. And we won't be without help for long--our current BHP, who's a rockstar, has a friend who's moving to Maine and wants to take over as our new BHP.
This has been a long four weeks. I've hated sitting still. I've become aware of how many dozens of little tasks make up a day of caring for the T-bird.
I've cursed myself a thousand times for what happened. My law school roommate Chris, one of my best friends, told me not to be so hard on myself. He said the accident was just bad luck and that I'm a kid at heart. He told me: "young at heart is a virtue and an asset that will help you be a happy old man some day."
Maybe so, but I won't go near a trampoline again, as long as I live.