The First Knee Injury

When I was a teenager, I would go to church every Wednesday evening. It was run by my mother's side of the family, so we often would arrive earlier than the main service, and I would hang out in the youth group building for an hour or two.

It was the summer of 2009, and I was 13 going on 14. My older brother had picked up one of my best friends, and so it was just me and him with a few hours to kill. Naturally, we played tag.

It was a fairly large building we were in. It was roughly divided into three sections: the right side was the daycare, the middle section was an open area that served as the lunchroom for the private school, and the left side was where the youth group services were held.

We were chasing through the daycare area. I was rounding a hallway corner when my right leg gave out from under me in a weird way, and I felt something in my knee spasm. I collapsed on the ground and started crying out in pain. Despite this being the first time I've ever done anything like this, it took a few minutes for me to convince my friend that I was injured and unable to move my leg (we were both homeschooled and have gaps in our social abilities sometimes).

He ran to the main building to grab my brother. In the ~8 minutes between the injury and the time my brother saw me, my knee was swollen up a good bit. He called my parents, and they wanted to know if I wanted to stay until after church or go ahead and come home. I felt bad, but didn't think I wanted to stay lying on the floor like a leper for all of the youth group to see.

By the time we got back to our house, it was about an hour later. My knee was the size of a volleyball at that point and hurt like a motherfucker. After a bit at home and seeing it was only getting worse, my mother convinced my father that we should go to the hospital.

My older brother picked me up, one arm behind my back and the other underneath my knees. My leg bent down when he lifted me, and I almost passed out, but managed to keep it together. He sat me down in the side of the family van, where I scooted back to lie there for the trip to the ER.

"Thank God I'm not a cussing child," I said as I winced from the bumps of the ride. I could tell my mom was worried, and it gave my parents a chuckle.

We got to the ER, and they gave me some pain medication and took an X-ray. I went home with crutches and was advised to stay off my feet to let it heal, and then wear a knee brace.

We hoped it was a one-time thing, but unfortunately, it was just the beginning.

My Right Knee

The X-ray showed nothing was torn or broken, thankfully. However, just a few weeks later, my knee gave out again, this time just from walking. We didn't go to the ER, but rather, my parents let me take a break from the family business to rest and recover. This would happen five or six more times before our neighbor, who was a church friend and also a doctor, advised us to get an MRI.

I spent the rest of the summer that year doing sit-down jobs at the family company and trying to stay off my feet in general. In the fall, I got an MRI of my knee, but didn't hear anything else.

A few months went by, and my knee went out 6 or 7 more times. Since I was needed at the family business, my parents said I should pray and believe for a miraculous healing for my knee. So I did - we had the whole family praying, we had sessions of laying hands, speaking in tongues, going to revival meetings with mass prayer, etc.

However, my knee unfortunately did not get any better, and it would slip out again many more times. Each time, the recovery would be a little longer, and each time it meant it would slip out again a little easier. There were a few times when my father inquired about a secret sin in my life that was causing this.

I hobbled through the summer, working the usual jobs with a knee brace and a cane. Being on my feet all day sucked, a lot, but my family told me it was necessary.

Since I was consistently having my knee go out so much, my parents decided to see a specialist in June of 2010:

As it turns out, my knees have prevalent J-sign, which is where the kneecaps track to the outside of the leg when straightened (like an upside-down J). Which means while rare, I was at least in part genetically predisposed to have J-sign, and it typically doesn't become a problem until at or shortly after puberty.

It was not going to get better on its own and required surgery. It was a fairly invasive surgery as well, requiring several hours of general anesthesia and an incision that would be around 9 inches long down the middle of my knee. They would have to cut through some tendons, which meant I would likely need months of physical therapy and have to rebuild my leg muscles.

Since the summer's busy season was winding down, I was able to get the surgery done that July. It was pretty awful. My father did not allow me to be in my room during the day because I already had a lethargic attitude, and so I had to lie on the couch in the living room. It also turned out that I was one of the rare patients for whom the anesthesia they used would cause severe constipation. So I was fighting for my life for about a week, and once I could finally go, my mother had to bring me a plunger. Horrible memory.

The evenings & weekends were very dull. My father would spend every evening and weekend sitting in the living room with me. It was a lot of him talking and playing the usual razor's edge game of keeping himself satisfied with my attitude and demeanor.

My leg was like a giant hot dog. Very swollen and straight. I had to wear special compression socks up to my thigh, which my mother had to put on. To shower, I had to also wrap my leg up in a trash bag and tape it shut tight, which again I couldn't do on my own.

I also had just gotten braces that summer, and had several appointments where I had to lie there with my giant leg & cast on the table. The dentist was also 90 minutes away, since my parents were using the Native American dentist to save money. So it was about four hours every two weeks of what felt like a zoo animal being shipped to a specialty vet. I had to lie sideways in the back seat of the car. It was pretty terrible, I remember crying a few times from the combination of knee pain, my teeth hurting, and just general embarrassment.

It took a few months before I could walk around again. I had healed well, but still had some J-sign in the end. It never went out again, thankfully, but there have been some instances when I felt like it almost did, but was held in place by the surgery.

Below are the doctor's notes about it all.

My Left Knee

By the time the following Spring arrived, I was feeling great. My right knee was healed up, and I was able to run around again. I had gone to play basketball with some friends, and afterwards we went to Taco Bell.

I stepped onto the curb in the parking lot with my left leg, and then that knee went out.

I felt hopeless. I knew I would need surgery all over again on my other knee now.

We went back to the same doctor and got another X-ray, and confirmed that my left knee was indeed at least as bad as my right one was.

However, it was terrible timing for the family company. The busy season was just getting underway, and they didn't want me to interrupt their plans with surgery.

I wanted to get the surgery done ASAP. It meant I would not have to go through the busy season, which was fucking hell (and in hindsight, I think literal child abuse), but it also meant I would be healed up for the Disney World trip and could enjoy it better.

However, my father instructed me that they needed me at the family company. He said it was very important to tell the doctor that I wanted to work the summer, and not just my parents wanting me to.

So I did. The doctor pressed me several times about it, to the point I teared up and almost said I wanted the surgery sooner, but I didn't cave.

We waited. Not just for the end of the busy season, but also until after the annual family vacation, which was a long-awaited Disney World vacation. I got it at the beginning of that October.

I went through the whole recovery process all over again. Thankfully, I told them about the constipation I experienced last time, and there was a pill they gave me this time around before going under that made that a non-issue.

Below are the doctor's notes of this:

Present Day

So the ages 14-17 were of particular impact. I did school from January to March, worked at the family company from March to September, and then it was back to school, with the knee surgeries mixed in somewhere.

The summers were long and terrible. Standing on oily & slippery concrete all day, in the extreme heat, surrounded by people I would never want my children to be around, and having my father as a constant in my life. All the while, my knees were aching and potentially going out at any time. It's like recalling a very bad dream.

It wasn't until I was 17 that I was properly healed up. I felt stable; however, my knees were still prone to pain. Ever since then, they also crunch when I stand up from a crouching position. Thankfully that doesn't feel like anything, but it certainly makes me wonder how I will be feeling as I get older.

I just turned 30, and I can tell my knees seem to be recouping a little longer. About a week ago, I slipped on some water one of my kids spilled, and I felt my left knee do a bit of a spasm - the kind of thing that I know would have been a whole slipping incident pre-surgery. I still pay for it, though. Just that has made both of them swell up a bit.