2011 Is Not My Year

6 04 2011

2011 has not been a friendly year towards my left knee. I have already had three injuries to my knee in a span of three and a half months. Something tells me this is not my year.  I can remember each injury very vividly.

January 15th was the night of the first injury. I was out for a friend’s birthday in Capitol Hill. I had a little too much to drink and was walking back to the Metro with a friend. We were on the escalator going down to the Metro. The stairs were starting to flatten out at the bottom, and I lost my footing, falling hard on my knee onto the metal stairs. I got away with a minor scrape through my jeans, but the leftover pain lasted a good deal longer after that.

Just over two months later was the second injury. It was the night of my birthday and a different friend and I were going out for a short late-night adventure into Chinatown. I had been drinking, but was nowhere near being drunk. My friend and I were sitting on a bench on the platform at the Metro. No trains were going downtown, yet a train going towards the suburbs had arrived. In a last-minute thought that getting on a train going somewhere would be better than not going anywhere; I quickly made a U-turn in the enormous heels I was wearing, tripped over the shoes I forgot I couldn’t walk in, and fell hard on the platform floor. That sharp pain I remembered from the first knee injury shot back up through my leg and I was not a happy camper.

I went to the doctor a few weeks after that second knee injury happened. My knee had (for good reason) been bothering me, and was not getting better. I had been instructed to take a ton of Ibuprofen until my knee healed. This doctor’s appointment was last Monday.

Last night, I was out to dinner with a third friend. We were waiting for two seats to open up at the bar so we could take advantage of the great looking Happy Hour deals. There was one bar stool that was unoccupied and neither of us really wanted to sit down. We playfully argued for a bit about who would sit down to at least save us one seat. I eventually gave in, and decided to sit. My companion advised my to “make myself comfortable” while we waited. Those were the fateful last words I heard. And then the third injury to rock my knee occurred. I somehow managed to get the heel of my shoe caught in the bar stool rung, and couldn’t recover in time. I fell approximately three feet to the cold, hard, stone floor. Why I had to fall on my already injured knee is beyond me. I went to the bathroom to check out my injury, and aside from skinning my knee which I was not really worried about, I couldn’t stop staring at the swelling that was happening. I had a massive lump on my knee, a little larger than a golf ball.

I went home and elevated, compressed, and iced, the combination of healing methods, I have become too familiar with. I am seeing a knee doctor tomorrow, and while I am confident no bones are broken, I figured seeing a specialist couldn’t hurt me any more than I am already.  I don’t really know what it is about this year. Until 2011, I rarely injured myself, let alone my knee. A friend of mine thinks I could be “destined to get hurt.” Boy, do I sure hope that isn’t the case!




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