Easter was late in 2011, and Monday, April 25th was the first day of school after spring break. I wasn't there.
On Saturday, I had been in a minor skiing accident. It was nothing, really--I caught an edge on some ice and fell down. Through the wildest quirks of fate, though, the edge of a ski made a 1" slice through my pants, my skin, my muscle, and through 90% of my kneecap tendon.
I left the hospital on the 24th and came home to a very long, tumultuous recovery. I missed the last 7 weeks of school that year, was using a cane to walk when school started in August, and didn't complete physical therapy until December.
I still cannot kneel on that knee, but given that I didn't think I'd ever walk again, I'd say the surgeon did a pretty good job. We he walks next to me, my son tells me he can still hear a difference in my footfalls.
10 years ago this weekend.
Consider yourself lucky. My husband, two years ago, in playing soccer "broke" his finger. As is usual, he refused to go to the doctor and simply splinted it. A month later he finally relented and discovered his finger was dislocated. He had surgery, but his ring finger on his left hand is permanently curled. When he went back to the surgeon to see if anything could be done, the doctor said "Well it could be one or two or even three surgeries. Or we could just take it off-nobody would notice." I still can't believe the doctor said that to him. Imagine if you had a knee injury that didn't heal. Needless to say, we're seeking a second opinion.
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