Knees

I really do not feel my 59+ years.  I look in the mirror, and the face that looks back at me does not seem to me to be the face of "a woman of a certain age."  Clearly I don't look 30 anymore, but a lifetime of avoiding the sun because of my very fair skin has brought me to this point looking younger than I am.  At least, that is how I see it.

My knees, however, are a different story.  I have not been gentle on my knees.  I was a happy tomboy, and I was happiest out playing baseball and football with my brothers and the guys in my neighborhood.  I was 14 when I slipped on the grass, trying to avoid a tackle, and dislocated my knee.  Badly.  My dad, bless him, called for an ambulance and wouldn't let anyone touch me until they came.  I remember the orthopedic doc that reset the knee telling me that someday...  "Someday, you are going to regret this.  This knee will never be as strong as it was, and when you grow older, it is going to give you trouble."

And my genetic inheritance is one that practically guarantees a fair share of osteo-arthritis, if not the far more scary rheumatoid arthritis.

The fact is that I have crappy knees.  They are stiff.  They don't bend, and they never feel very sturdy.  I am always worried, especially when I am walking uphill or upstairs, that they will actually collapse and dump me on my ass.  I receive regular synvisc shots, and I also get cortisone injections.  The shots keep me pretty functional.  But it is still what it is.

Today, I walked my 6th grade science classes to a nearby park for a look at the issues related to our urban forest.  It is 1.31 miles each direction, over some pretty significant hilly terrain.  Add to that the mile or so of walking through the woods while we were there, and my knees are thumping tonight.

I'm an old lady.  I'll sit here and soak my feet and later I'll ice the knees.  I'll take some aleve and hopefully, by tomorrow, I'll be up and around again.

No matter what the mirror might say, it is clear that the knees don't like.  Go figure.