Tonight's Poem

I started several little intros to this and eventually decided to scrap them all. So without further introduction, here's a poem I wrote tonight. I don't have a title yet.

sometimes, I hear the

church chimes ring

11 minutes slow

as a kid, I waited for

the 12 o'clock whistle

to echo off an Appalachian.

everything's always been

clockwise and spinning

you spring forward

you fall back

every a.m. is a pulsing beep

and I don't wear a watch

but my phone's always on

seconds click quietly

and then it's June 9, 2010

in the year of our Lord

when it's summer

but I'm still

feeling deciduous

while all those beeps

chimes and whistles

are silent.

and I realize that

I don't know the name

on my own business card

there's always been a

game of freeze tag

a tv game show

a class

a job

to get to

and even with only

memories of reminders

I fold the laundry

and talk about dinner

but sometimes, I hear the

church chimes ring

11 minutes slow

Verdict

So, we all recall that I sustained injury while voguing, yes?

After two weeks, it wasn't healing, so I went to see the doctor. X-rays were taken and all appeared well. However, my knee was still swollen and causing me a good bit of pain. So, I was referred to the orthopedic specialist. I saw him on Tuesday.

It turns out that I've been living with jacked up knees for a long time. While this isn't a revelation, I didn't quite know how bad it was. The short version is that the "soft tissue" in my knees have decided to develop such that they are pulling my kneecaps out. So, I just turn a bit and BAM, they dislocate. On top of that, I'm developing arthritis and I have lovely little bits of bone grinding off as I move my knee. You can see them in the x-rays the ortho guy took. It's like a snowglobe in my knee.

This of course has a few ramifications. First off, that goal of running a 5k near my 30th birthday...not gonna happen. It's probably all for the best that I got pissed off with running when a dog bit me and haven't been doing much of it lately. I can't imagine dislocating a kneecap while running down Old Vine. (I literally cringed while typing that).

It also means that a knee surgery is likely in my future. The doctor wants to cut me open, pull the soft tissue back where it's supposed to be and then hopefully cure my little dislocation problem. He seems to think this will fix the everything. I'm dubious. I read medical records from this particular facility all the time for work and it seems like they are kind of surgery happy. So, I'm pondering getting a second opinion.

For now, I'm opting for physical therapy. The doc says that they are going to "train me like Lance Armstrong for the Tour de France" to build up my leg muscles. The boyfriend says I'm getting my insurance to pay for a personal trainer. I have these great visions of out of shape, asthmatic me suddenly riding through the French countryside and grabbing a baguette from a bystander as I race through France on my little bike, flipping the bird to the Belgian team as I whizz past with my new, improved, non-dislocating knees.

In truth, I'll probably be lucky to make it through therapy without having to suck on my inhaler like a Bel-Ami fluffer. Though, I'm resolving to look at this positively. I'm getting in better shape before I turn 30, not that I'm 30 and falling apart. I mean, it's because of Madonna that I'm realizing how jacked up my knees are and she's pretty much the pinnacle of being old and fit, right? Right?