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After dealing with constant pain in my right knee for the past two years, I finally cried uncle and made an appointment with an orthopedist. Thankfully it was a different orthopedist than the one who told me “It will either heal or it won’t” two years ago when the injury first occurred. She diagnosed a deep root radial meniscal tear ( the worst kind, the kind that doesn’t heal) as well as damage to my MCL and told me I’d probably need surgery. Wanting to avoid that…. I tried everything else. Ice, heat, massage, exercise, even acupuncture. Nothing worked and instead of getting better, it actually got worse. Groaning every time I got up and coming down stairs one at a time like an old woman was getting, well… old.

The new orthopedist did tests, and told me what I already knew… nothing had healed, and to add insult to injury, I also have holes in my cartilage now. Yay me. The options were slim – have surgery to remove the meniscus which would alleviate the pain but hasten the road to total knee replacement.. to which I said no thank you… or start with a cortisone shot and try physical therapy. I chose door number two.

After an ultra sound guided cortisone shot I was a seriously happy camper. On day one I had 40% less pain. By day three I could take stairs normally and felt 70% less pain upon standing. Why had I waited two years!! It was a miracle.

But then…

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Then I had to enter the torture chamber.

The week after my shot, I met the man I would pay to hurt me. And that’s exactly what he did. After an initial consultation he put me on the table and gave me the most painful deep tissue massage imaginable. He informed me my hamstring had contracted over the past two years and it had to be pressed and stretched back into service. I limped out of the building with my hammy screaming, barely able to drive home. It’s a good thing they only scheduled me for once a week because it took that long for the pain to subside.

Week #2 he prodded and pressed and took me into the huge gym attached to the building. Physical therapy my ass, I felt like I’d been thrown into NFL training camp. A plethora of squats, band work and what seemed like 300 knee bends later he made me pull and push 90 pounds of some weird weighted contraption down and back the entire length of the gym. When I was done I must have looked pathetic because he let me sit down with a pressurized ice cuff.

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(If those things didn’t cost $3,500 I swear I’d have one at home.) And again, I limped out of the building, sore for a solid week.

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Did I mention the therapy room has an entire wall of windows so everyone in the waiting room can watch your torture sessions? Fun idea.

Not.

Session number three began with him asking how much better I was feeling and me answering not much. He did some manipulations, said my patella was aggravated and proceeded to smooth out the inflammation with some stinky gel and what looked like a miniature squeegee. Whatever, it didn’t hurt and I didn’t have to go back to the gym so that’s a win in my book.

I did however go home with a sexy new accessory.

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Is that hot or what?

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