Ah, the setback that forces you to switchback around whatever mountainous obstacle looms, and opens up unexpected vistas.
Mine were less physical (never was much of an athlete) than career directional. Like when I earned that teaching certificate because my mother insisted an English major needed job security, just as teachers were being pink-slipped, thanks to us Boomers aging out of the public education system. When I didn't bother getting recertified in Massachusetts and instead took a secretarial job in the naive hope it would grow into something better, preferably using my writing skills. It didn't. Instead, I got fired (see: naive) for being a rabble rouser. Which, a few months and a few FORTRAN lessons later, got me my first tech editing job, leading to a long and mostly satisfying career in software documentation.
Decades onward, when my own poor management decisions sparked a rebellion on my team, I was forced to pivot again. Devastated, fearing I'd be fired at a moment when I most needed that income, within a year I was invited to join a new team whose role was to guide our entire organization in adopting new standards and structures, new content management and publishing tools. I found new friends, made work visits to countries I'd never expected to see. And then, just as I joined a bigger, fully global team, the email from HR loomed in my Inbox: wouldn't I like to accept a Voluntary Early Retirement Package? My initial thought: Why? I like my new role, new boss, new colleagues. Till I did the math, realized they'd effectively pay me to finish my novel draft. Six weeks later, newly retired, I could focus on fiction, fulfilling the hopes of that English major of long ago.
Henriette, I wish for you the same fortunate serendipities. Healthy knees. New vistas, whether from a skiff on the Charles or skis in Vermont...or through a window by your rowing machine. Cheers to you!
Judy, thanks for sharing this tale. And it is a tale, full of ups and downs and peripeteia (Aristotle's term, but now it just means "adventure" in Modern Greek. If I were to look back over my own professional twists and turns, I'd see the developments that might have felt like diversions and reroutings at the time, but that ended up getting me to experiences and career events I wouldn't trade for anything. I was always "supposed to be" a writer, and my rebellion against my too-accepting parents was to become an academic instead. More than decade into that career, after six years of grad school, and I realized I'd taken a detour by mistake. But it was worth it. I gained so much from those academic years, personally and professionally. New strengths :-) Strengths I never even thought I wanted!
Thanks, Henriette, for your very thoughtful reply, and for sharing your own story--and for the wonderful new vocabulary word. Now I'll look for that Aristotelian peripeteia in my manuscript.
I have had two meniscus tears, one very old that would flare up every now and then, and then a new one in 2019. When I went to the doc, he confirmed the new tear, so I said great - let's fix both at once (same knee). He cautioned me that other parts of my knee were shot, but I wanted to go incrementally.
That said, fixing the tears was not enough, and I had to ski with a brace - UGH. I also could not finish a golf swing (left knee). Plant and pivot were out of the question. Biking still worked, and actually helped, so that is how I got strong again.
Therefore, I went for the knee replacement in 2020. After recovery, things have been great! I had not realized hockey had hurt so much (for it was so fun), but now, skiing and hockey are pain free!
Lee, that's great to hear. I love most your phrase "how I got strong again." We can get strong (or stay strong) in a whole range of different ways. It comes down to finding the way that works for us at any given time.
Love this, Henri. I'm sorry you hurt your knee, and I imagine not being able to do the skiing you love weighs on you. It will also wait for you. ...I've been in PT since October, having done *something* to a disc in my back. I'm finally at the point when I can walk my poor dog, do yoga, hike several miles, and break trail on the snow and ice, and ...wow....SIT UP AND TURN OVER IN BED without thinking: Oh. I have pain my back.
I think learning to be humble in the face of what the body is trying to tell us: THAT is a strength that will serve us well for all the active decades to come.
Oof, glad to hear you're on the mend. Back issues can be so debilitating (been there, too). But, yes, it is also a question of humility. It's a huge adjustment--to have to say to oneself (in whatever context, sports or otherwise), hey, that thing you were planning to do, or that thing you've always been able to do: it's a little out of reach right now, so choose something else and make the most of it. Letting go of one thing to grasp for another shouldn't be so hard, and yet it is!
Ah, dear Henriette. It's so you. Our bodies are wearable. The major joints have odometers, though we can't see the dials and each of us is different. But certainly high pressure, high torque, high impact lower extremity exercise speeds up that odometer. Nor is it unusual for a knee to seem fine except for tiny little clues, then all of a sudden to manifest a major joint disruption, with no real turning back to status quo ante.
I'm glad you are adjusting. There is lots of activity that you'll be able to do without pushing to the anatomical twisting and bending limits your knee won't handle safely anymore. Couch potato is not in your future.
I am just recovering from my own experience. A year ago I had no issues with my right knee within the normal exercise, walking, golf and modest gym work I did (including step master) none of which maximally torqued the knee. But one day in April, without any precedent injury, I developed swelling and pain that didn't respond to conservative treatment including steroid injections. It turns out I had essentially no cartilage left. Just worn out and the closing bell had rung. I underwent total knee replacement at the end of October and, while not yet up to full knee strength, am essentially fully functional. My new part is so inobtrusive that I forgot to mention it at airline security.
Of course, needing an implant or a major revision of life activities in the absence of external event, appropriately brings reflection on aging and mortality. As a physician I am all too aware that we are not built to last forever and not every breakdown can be repaired. But I believe there usually are many ways to remain active and productive, not only different from the past but sometimes better. And if everything develops cracks (cf Leonard Cohen), it does let in the light, and we may see better and be wiser.
Steve, I can't hide my nature, can I?! Oof. But, as you can see here, I am indeed learning. I'm really glad to hear your own cartilage situation resulted in a new knee that's even better than before. I'm not in any rush for knee replacement, but it's a little comforting to know the technology is out there when (if?) the time comes. And I look at Lindsay Vonn's return to elite skiing as a good omen.
I am, indeed, adjusting. And the good thing is that there are so many ways in which I enjoy physical expression that I can, in theory (wisdom permitting) shift my focus. Granted, what I don't say in this piece is that I'm signed up to do an amazing trail-running event in England this May and really hope I'll be able to run a little along with fast hiking. We shall see. I will endeavor to continue to be wise. We are surely not built to last forever. Entropy! The most we can do is try to forestall it!
I relate to so much of this, thank you. I tried to view my injury setback as a teacher. Take care and give it time.
I've been learning a great deal from your accounts of your recovery!
Ah, the setback that forces you to switchback around whatever mountainous obstacle looms, and opens up unexpected vistas.
Mine were less physical (never was much of an athlete) than career directional. Like when I earned that teaching certificate because my mother insisted an English major needed job security, just as teachers were being pink-slipped, thanks to us Boomers aging out of the public education system. When I didn't bother getting recertified in Massachusetts and instead took a secretarial job in the naive hope it would grow into something better, preferably using my writing skills. It didn't. Instead, I got fired (see: naive) for being a rabble rouser. Which, a few months and a few FORTRAN lessons later, got me my first tech editing job, leading to a long and mostly satisfying career in software documentation.
Decades onward, when my own poor management decisions sparked a rebellion on my team, I was forced to pivot again. Devastated, fearing I'd be fired at a moment when I most needed that income, within a year I was invited to join a new team whose role was to guide our entire organization in adopting new standards and structures, new content management and publishing tools. I found new friends, made work visits to countries I'd never expected to see. And then, just as I joined a bigger, fully global team, the email from HR loomed in my Inbox: wouldn't I like to accept a Voluntary Early Retirement Package? My initial thought: Why? I like my new role, new boss, new colleagues. Till I did the math, realized they'd effectively pay me to finish my novel draft. Six weeks later, newly retired, I could focus on fiction, fulfilling the hopes of that English major of long ago.
Henriette, I wish for you the same fortunate serendipities. Healthy knees. New vistas, whether from a skiff on the Charles or skis in Vermont...or through a window by your rowing machine. Cheers to you!
Also, I'm glad your twists and turns led you to that novel-writing time!
Judy, thanks for sharing this tale. And it is a tale, full of ups and downs and peripeteia (Aristotle's term, but now it just means "adventure" in Modern Greek. If I were to look back over my own professional twists and turns, I'd see the developments that might have felt like diversions and reroutings at the time, but that ended up getting me to experiences and career events I wouldn't trade for anything. I was always "supposed to be" a writer, and my rebellion against my too-accepting parents was to become an academic instead. More than decade into that career, after six years of grad school, and I realized I'd taken a detour by mistake. But it was worth it. I gained so much from those academic years, personally and professionally. New strengths :-) Strengths I never even thought I wanted!
Thanks, Henriette, for your very thoughtful reply, and for sharing your own story--and for the wonderful new vocabulary word. Now I'll look for that Aristotelian peripeteia in my manuscript.
I have had two meniscus tears, one very old that would flare up every now and then, and then a new one in 2019. When I went to the doc, he confirmed the new tear, so I said great - let's fix both at once (same knee). He cautioned me that other parts of my knee were shot, but I wanted to go incrementally.
That said, fixing the tears was not enough, and I had to ski with a brace - UGH. I also could not finish a golf swing (left knee). Plant and pivot were out of the question. Biking still worked, and actually helped, so that is how I got strong again.
Therefore, I went for the knee replacement in 2020. After recovery, things have been great! I had not realized hockey had hurt so much (for it was so fun), but now, skiing and hockey are pain free!
Moral: listen to your doctors... Lee McShane Cox
Lee, that's great to hear. I love most your phrase "how I got strong again." We can get strong (or stay strong) in a whole range of different ways. It comes down to finding the way that works for us at any given time.
Love this, Henri. I'm sorry you hurt your knee, and I imagine not being able to do the skiing you love weighs on you. It will also wait for you. ...I've been in PT since October, having done *something* to a disc in my back. I'm finally at the point when I can walk my poor dog, do yoga, hike several miles, and break trail on the snow and ice, and ...wow....SIT UP AND TURN OVER IN BED without thinking: Oh. I have pain my back.
I think learning to be humble in the face of what the body is trying to tell us: THAT is a strength that will serve us well for all the active decades to come.
XOXO
Oof, glad to hear you're on the mend. Back issues can be so debilitating (been there, too). But, yes, it is also a question of humility. It's a huge adjustment--to have to say to oneself (in whatever context, sports or otherwise), hey, that thing you were planning to do, or that thing you've always been able to do: it's a little out of reach right now, so choose something else and make the most of it. Letting go of one thing to grasp for another shouldn't be so hard, and yet it is!
Oh, this is Jenna, by the way, with my Blaze face on. XOXO again.
Ah, dear Henriette. It's so you. Our bodies are wearable. The major joints have odometers, though we can't see the dials and each of us is different. But certainly high pressure, high torque, high impact lower extremity exercise speeds up that odometer. Nor is it unusual for a knee to seem fine except for tiny little clues, then all of a sudden to manifest a major joint disruption, with no real turning back to status quo ante.
I'm glad you are adjusting. There is lots of activity that you'll be able to do without pushing to the anatomical twisting and bending limits your knee won't handle safely anymore. Couch potato is not in your future.
I am just recovering from my own experience. A year ago I had no issues with my right knee within the normal exercise, walking, golf and modest gym work I did (including step master) none of which maximally torqued the knee. But one day in April, without any precedent injury, I developed swelling and pain that didn't respond to conservative treatment including steroid injections. It turns out I had essentially no cartilage left. Just worn out and the closing bell had rung. I underwent total knee replacement at the end of October and, while not yet up to full knee strength, am essentially fully functional. My new part is so inobtrusive that I forgot to mention it at airline security.
Of course, needing an implant or a major revision of life activities in the absence of external event, appropriately brings reflection on aging and mortality. As a physician I am all too aware that we are not built to last forever and not every breakdown can be repaired. But I believe there usually are many ways to remain active and productive, not only different from the past but sometimes better. And if everything develops cracks (cf Leonard Cohen), it does let in the light, and we may see better and be wiser.
Best to you.
Steve, I can't hide my nature, can I?! Oof. But, as you can see here, I am indeed learning. I'm really glad to hear your own cartilage situation resulted in a new knee that's even better than before. I'm not in any rush for knee replacement, but it's a little comforting to know the technology is out there when (if?) the time comes. And I look at Lindsay Vonn's return to elite skiing as a good omen.
I am, indeed, adjusting. And the good thing is that there are so many ways in which I enjoy physical expression that I can, in theory (wisdom permitting) shift my focus. Granted, what I don't say in this piece is that I'm signed up to do an amazing trail-running event in England this May and really hope I'll be able to run a little along with fast hiking. We shall see. I will endeavor to continue to be wise. We are surely not built to last forever. Entropy! The most we can do is try to forestall it!