Friday, July 29, 2005
At last, a non-totally-stupid sports injury
Q: What did the patient say to the orthopedist who had just syringed two full tubes of blood and fluid out of his knee, and was agog, never having seen so much blood issue from a swelling before?
A: "I'm a sanguine guy."
This time Wednesday, I was calling StaTravel, trying to find out if an injury making travel prohibitive is grounds for a refund of my plane tickets. I wasn't sure I was going anymore.
On tuesday, Mike joined me at Tae Kwon Do class. Near the end of a brutal class (150 sit-ups and 40-50 push-ups, and that's nothing) I was pounding the snot out of a bag. I went for a routine spinning back kick, during which you momentarily lose sight of the target, and missed the bag completely. These things happen. In my case, it was an exceptionally fierce kick. My leg shot out past it and snapped straight, hard--roughly the same motion as when you snap a book's spine, and similar results. Hyperextended my left knee. Hurt like hell. Swelled up outrageously. Limped home, iced it. Watched Strange Brew with Sadie and Mike. Funny fucking movie, man. All about crazy hoser Canucks. The next morning I went to Mom and Jacob's genius physical therapist, Schmuel (the guy Yehudi Menuhin and Isaac Stern brought over from Lithuania--Lou Reed, Laurie Anderson and Kathleen Turner use him, too). What hands, wow. Like velvet. His thinking was, worst-case scenario, torn cartilage in the knee. I happened to have an appointment at my G.P's that day, too. I was supposed to finish up the travel vaccinations. He referred me to an orthopedist a few blocks away. He looked at it, prodded a bit, thought maybe torn ACL (also a disaster). Gave me a cool brace and a cane. Sent us to the MRI place. What a shithole. They'd told us to rush over, so we did, as fast as I could limp. We then waited about an hour. I hate MRI's; when I finally got in, I have to lie immobile, frozen as in death, for a half hour. When your feet start to itch? Sucks.
The next morning there was no improvement. I still couldn't lift my leg if it was extended (as in, my knee couldn't produce enough strength to extend the lower leg). Went for an early session at Schmuel's and was ministered to by Vladimir, who looks like he came right out of KGB central casting. Huge man, cropped yet bushy mustache, taciturn and very Soviet, and exceptionally practiced in the art of finding pressure points. You know how when Jacob and the angel are wrestling, and the angel gets frustrated and "touches the hollow" of Jacob's thigh, and Jacob goes lame? Well, these guys know where that hollow is, and they go in deep. Vladimir actually showed it to me yesterday. The thing about Schmuel is, because he and his people deal so much with pressure points and circulation (basically, he gets the body to heal itself, and it works), his therapy is excruciating. Basically, they ask, Where does it hurt? Then they go at it hammer and tongs. But man, an hour with Vladimir, and not only could I lift my leg, but I could practically dance. Highly, highly recommend that place. Going back all next week.
The swelling was still a big impediment, though; my leg couldn't bend almost at all. So later that day, the orthopedist shoved an awfully large needle in my knee and sucked out an impressive profusion of fluids. I was immensely proud, and hoped he would tell the other dwellers of his orthopod. And so mobility was restored. For a few hours, without the padding, my knee felt jagged and sharp, but the pain's largely gone now. I still have to be ginger, but since the preliminary report from the MRI said no ACL tear, only "preserved tissue orientation," and even the doctor barely knew what that meant. It's not "intact," as the PCL is, but it's sound enough that he's going to give me another, smaller brace, and send me off round the world. I'm going after all. I just have to be gentle with it this week. Hallelujah.
A: "I'm a sanguine guy."
This time Wednesday, I was calling StaTravel, trying to find out if an injury making travel prohibitive is grounds for a refund of my plane tickets. I wasn't sure I was going anymore.
On tuesday, Mike joined me at Tae Kwon Do class. Near the end of a brutal class (150 sit-ups and 40-50 push-ups, and that's nothing) I was pounding the snot out of a bag. I went for a routine spinning back kick, during which you momentarily lose sight of the target, and missed the bag completely. These things happen. In my case, it was an exceptionally fierce kick. My leg shot out past it and snapped straight, hard--roughly the same motion as when you snap a book's spine, and similar results. Hyperextended my left knee. Hurt like hell. Swelled up outrageously. Limped home, iced it. Watched Strange Brew with Sadie and Mike. Funny fucking movie, man. All about crazy hoser Canucks. The next morning I went to Mom and Jacob's genius physical therapist, Schmuel (the guy Yehudi Menuhin and Isaac Stern brought over from Lithuania--Lou Reed, Laurie Anderson and Kathleen Turner use him, too). What hands, wow. Like velvet. His thinking was, worst-case scenario, torn cartilage in the knee. I happened to have an appointment at my G.P's that day, too. I was supposed to finish up the travel vaccinations. He referred me to an orthopedist a few blocks away. He looked at it, prodded a bit, thought maybe torn ACL (also a disaster). Gave me a cool brace and a cane. Sent us to the MRI place. What a shithole. They'd told us to rush over, so we did, as fast as I could limp. We then waited about an hour. I hate MRI's; when I finally got in, I have to lie immobile, frozen as in death, for a half hour. When your feet start to itch? Sucks.
The next morning there was no improvement. I still couldn't lift my leg if it was extended (as in, my knee couldn't produce enough strength to extend the lower leg). Went for an early session at Schmuel's and was ministered to by Vladimir, who looks like he came right out of KGB central casting. Huge man, cropped yet bushy mustache, taciturn and very Soviet, and exceptionally practiced in the art of finding pressure points. You know how when Jacob and the angel are wrestling, and the angel gets frustrated and "touches the hollow" of Jacob's thigh, and Jacob goes lame? Well, these guys know where that hollow is, and they go in deep. Vladimir actually showed it to me yesterday. The thing about Schmuel is, because he and his people deal so much with pressure points and circulation (basically, he gets the body to heal itself, and it works), his therapy is excruciating. Basically, they ask, Where does it hurt? Then they go at it hammer and tongs. But man, an hour with Vladimir, and not only could I lift my leg, but I could practically dance. Highly, highly recommend that place. Going back all next week.
The swelling was still a big impediment, though; my leg couldn't bend almost at all. So later that day, the orthopedist shoved an awfully large needle in my knee and sucked out an impressive profusion of fluids. I was immensely proud, and hoped he would tell the other dwellers of his orthopod. And so mobility was restored. For a few hours, without the padding, my knee felt jagged and sharp, but the pain's largely gone now. I still have to be ginger, but since the preliminary report from the MRI said no ACL tear, only "preserved tissue orientation," and even the doctor barely knew what that meant. It's not "intact," as the PCL is, but it's sound enough that he's going to give me another, smaller brace, and send me off round the world. I'm going after all. I just have to be gentle with it this week. Hallelujah.
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