I Tore My Meniscus And My Ego

I tore my meniscus.

So that’s fun.

For those unfamiliar with knee anatomy, as I was, the meniscus is a cartilage thingy in the knee joint. It acts as a cushion between the shin bone (the tibia) and the thighbone (the femur).

As far as injuries go, a torn meniscus is not the most incapacitating of disfigurements. Still, if you could choose between a torn version and an un-torn version, I advise choosing the un-torn option.

Why settle, you know? 

From MRI to LOL: Finding Humor in Magnetic Misfortune

To quote the MRI report, the tear is “complex but predominantly horizontal,” which I found pretty amusing. It sounds like language my therapist might use to describe the behavioral state of my mental well-being.

Other language he might use to describe my mental health would be “comorbidity.” That’s a fancy way of saying that I’m messed up in more ways than one. You know, depression, OCD, anxiety…shall I go on?

As it turns out, the MRI report described a second injury, a notably bruised femur. So, I conveniently comorbidified* my knee to match my comorbidified brain.

(*Not a word. I checked, for shits and giggles. It should be though. I think it serves a useful vocabularic** purpose.)

(**Also not a word according to the big guns in the dictionary business. If you’re desperate to use it, as I am, you can always cite its inclusion in Wikitionary: The Free Dictionary. You’re welcome.)

The orthopedist pulled up the image of my knee on his computer and pointed to several bright white sections.

“It’s all lit up!” he exclaimed with enthusiasm that I easily could have seen as insensitive. I mean, what kind of doctor celebrates a patient’s injuries?

I saw something different, though. I saw a doctor tickled by the power of his own tools, an accomplished adult who couldn’t hide his nerdy, childlike fascination with the human body.

I’ll take that bedside manner over an apathetic doctor any day.

He may have grinned as well. It was subtle, quite unlike the pinch of pain I felt during the does-it-hurt-when-I-do-this part of the exam.

He said I tore my meniscus, most likely, a long time ago, maybe in high school playing tennis and/or skiing. (My mediocre-at-best levels of athletic prowess kept me active, but I didn’t get Papa’s football-star athletic genes.)

Limb By Limb: A Phishy Knee Injury

My knee has bothered me over the years, but never enough to see a doctor. Until, that is, the great Phish show debacle of 2024, which you can read about here. In short, I fell racing back to the car after the 2024-07-21 Xfinity Center Phish show in Mansfield, MA. It was a doozy.

The impact further aggravated the pre-existing meniscus issue and directly caused the bruised femur. Unfortunately, it took months to figure everything out, but I wasn’t able to heal without treatment. Meniscus tears don’t self-repair, and the femur, without interventions to reduce the load it supports (i.e., all 165 lbs of me), got repeatedly re-injured.

My Medial Unloader…

Dr. Enthusiastic prescribed a “medial unloader,” which made me laugh because it sounds like an idiomatic reference to one’s anus. Turns out it’s actually a special type of knee brace and thus altogether unrelated to one’s bum.

That’s, well, a bummer, because it’s a totally hilarious idiom. That’s why, from now on, I’m going to start referring to my bum as my medial unloader. I suggest you do the same.

Together, we can achieve great things.

Mechanically speaking, a medial unloader brace is interesting. It changes the way weight is distributed on the knee. By focusing the load on the healthy side of my knee, it gives the injured side the opportunity to heal.

But that’s not all!

The medial unloader brace also changes the way wealth is distributed. It transferred approximately $700 from my bank account to that of the medical supply company. I mean, how cool is that?

Our modern healthcare system, with its game-changing innovations like deductibles that keep you reliably paying out-of-pocket, is truly amazing. What will they think of next?

Kneesy Does It: Limping Into Middle Age

In all seriousness, as I near my 50^th year on earth (I’m 47), I’m increasingly aware of my fragility. I’m aware of how much more I need to do to take care of myself. And I’m aware of how incredibly hard “doing more” can be, for dozens of reasons.

This increased awareness has also prompted me to confront my judgmental tendencies. I’ve been too critical of other people’s habits, physical conditioning, and a million different things I’ve had no business judging.

I’m embarrassed by it.

Being less judgmental has been a major personal betterment project of mine for many years now. I want to think I’ve made some progress. I’d like to believe that I’ve adjusted my ego. I sure hope so.

You never know what type of injuries people are quietly enduring, injuries that are far worse than when I tore my meniscus. You don’t know what loads they are carrying or what comorbid conditions they are navigating.

As Papa Used to Say: Never judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.

Or, better yet, don’t judge them at all.

I have a few other thoughts, but I’ll save them for another time. I just finished my coffee, and I’m kinda desperate to unload my medial. I tore y meniscus.