other options, a different time.

The morning of my first surgery, winter of 1974, my knee, which had been locked due to a piece of cartilage lodged in it, suddenly loosened.  I was so excited that I was pretty sure that I would not have to undergo the procedure!  The doctor explained that it did not work that way… so under the knife I went.  Later that year, in spring football, (who the heck did spring football in high school in the 70’s?) while holding onto a piece of hose with a teammate, (what the heck were we doing with a piece of hose any way?) I tried to rotate and pull with the ultimate goal of throwing said teammate to the ground.  Instead, my left knee felt like it had come apart.  I’m pretty sure I yelled for a while.  Also pretty sure that was the end of my ACL, which had been partially torn in the Fall football season.  (Oh yeah, the coach was a former college assistant from Michigan State; THAT explains spring football and the hose wrestling.)

The treatment, put it in a cast for 8 weeks.  First rate.  After 8 weeks, I had no ACL and no muscle in my leg.  There are a lot of things to love about the 70s, ABBA comes to mind… but orthopedics is not one of them.  My knee was doomed.

I have since been operated on by the team surgeon of the Seattle Seahawks and a guy in Juneau, Alaska who was nicknamed, The Gastineau Channel Butcher.  I have been awake during surgery watching it on the video screen under the influence of a spinal block, totally knocked out, and had a surgeon who only used locals injected into my knee.  I probably don’t recommend that last one.

I’ve had lots of cartilage surgeries… trims, cut outs, sew ups.  Sew ups really hurt.  Well, they all hurt.  In 1998 I had microfracture surgery that was supposed to regrow cartilage in my knee by drilling holes into the ends of my femur and fibula.  After that one, the doctors were pretty sure I should look into getting my knee replaced.  I was 40.  That was not going to happen.

So it was on to INJECTIONS!  That also included draining of fluid from the joint.  They provided relief for a few months.  But another interesting thing was happening to my left knee; it was starting to angle decidedly toward the left.  This would prompt an interesting discussion with my daughter’s new father-in-law at the wedding reception when he pulled me aside and asked, “So Bob, what’s with the leg?”  But the drainage and injections worked well, keeping me coaching, climbing, and kayaking.  The right knee started needing work on worn, torn cartilage and the injections became a ritual with me and my local doctor every three months.  Had to be better than having my knee essentially hacked off and replaced with titanium?  Right?  Oh, and the odd tilt of my left leg, over time, essentially destroyed the joint below my big toe.  So I have gotten that bad boy shot up with steroids, too.

My next entry will be about finding the right surgeon… then not finding him, then finding him.