With the appointment so far off I decided it was time to take some positive action. It had worked with the MRI, to a small degree, when I had managed to get a cancellation, and have it a month earlier than original scheduled.
I called the knee specialist's office and explained that I was always available and if someone cancelled I could be there in an hour.
"Really, but I thought you had a serious injury which was damaging all aspects of your life."
"Yes, but I can still cycle."
"Oh okay."
"I don't want to annoy you by ringing every day but I am going to ring every day until I get a cancellation."
She hung up.
I rang the next day. "Hi, it's Daniel here, I've got an appointment in late February. Just checking if you have any cancellations?"
"No sorry, nothing today."
This went on for a couple of days, then.
"Hi, it's Daniel here."
"Yes, I know. Nothing yet."
Later that day, a cancellation came in. Appointment with the specialist on the 24th January. Wow, that's another month saved I thought. If this carries on I'll be starting my recovery before I even got injured.
About this time I remembered something else my friend who'd had the op had said.
"You need to build up the leg. Get the muscles strong before the op so your recovery is that much quicker." I started a series of home made exercises utilising some weights tied in a sock around my ankle and my wife's pilates ring.
"Where's my pilates ring?"
"It's in my office. I'm using it to build up my leg."
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"No. But it feels good to be doing something."
I showed her, she winced, and left the room tutting. "If your break my pilates ring the ACL op will be pointless."
She can be scary but I carried on with the exercises.
I was doing them about 5 times a day by the time I had my appointment. I was excited and a little nervous. It was like a first date, we were going to do something special together, me and Mr Knee. (Not his real name.) Why are some doctors called mister?
A young chap called my name and I entered the knee specialist area. The young chap introduced himself: "Hi, I'm Justin, Mr Knee's assistant." I tried to, but I don't think I did, hide my disappoint.
Again it was kit off, knee manipulation, then he went out to look at the MRI.
"Yep, it's torn alright." It was then finally, six months fully after the attack on my knee that I heard the words I had been waiting for. "The only solution is an operation."
I think most people, at this point, enquire about other options. Not me.
"Yes, you're right, when can I have it. Give it to me, I'll have it now if you've got a knife."
"I'll just get Mr Knee and see if he agrees." Oh.
Mr Knee could be heard outside my curtained area popping his head into various consultations. He was like a pop star spreading his fame around the room so that when he came through my curtain I nearly fainted.
"So what have we got here?" I couldn't speak. At last here was the man who was going to fix me. He wiggled my knee and then did a funny thing which made it click really loudly.
"Did you hear that?"
"My knee's shot, not my hearing."
"Ho, ho, we've got a comedian here Justin." Justin laughed as though Mr Knee had just finished the best joke of all time. Justin was like a snooker audience to Mr Knee's John Virgo.
"Well, it will need an operation. Are you okay with that?"
"Absolutely."
"It's not often we operate on someone your age, but we'll give it a go."
As he said this I thought he meant someone as young as me but when I was relaying the meeting to my wife I realised he meant someone so ancient. I'm 47. She laughed, at me, not with me I think, but I didn't care, I was going under the knife.
Bring it on!
I called the knee specialist's office and explained that I was always available and if someone cancelled I could be there in an hour.
"Really, but I thought you had a serious injury which was damaging all aspects of your life."
"Yes, but I can still cycle."
"Oh okay."
"I don't want to annoy you by ringing every day but I am going to ring every day until I get a cancellation."
She hung up.
I rang the next day. "Hi, it's Daniel here, I've got an appointment in late February. Just checking if you have any cancellations?"
"No sorry, nothing today."
This went on for a couple of days, then.
"Hi, it's Daniel here."
"Yes, I know. Nothing yet."
Later that day, a cancellation came in. Appointment with the specialist on the 24th January. Wow, that's another month saved I thought. If this carries on I'll be starting my recovery before I even got injured.
About this time I remembered something else my friend who'd had the op had said.
"You need to build up the leg. Get the muscles strong before the op so your recovery is that much quicker." I started a series of home made exercises utilising some weights tied in a sock around my ankle and my wife's pilates ring.
"Where's my pilates ring?"
"It's in my office. I'm using it to build up my leg."
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"No. But it feels good to be doing something."
I showed her, she winced, and left the room tutting. "If your break my pilates ring the ACL op will be pointless."
She can be scary but I carried on with the exercises.
I was doing them about 5 times a day by the time I had my appointment. I was excited and a little nervous. It was like a first date, we were going to do something special together, me and Mr Knee. (Not his real name.) Why are some doctors called mister?
A young chap called my name and I entered the knee specialist area. The young chap introduced himself: "Hi, I'm Justin, Mr Knee's assistant." I tried to, but I don't think I did, hide my disappoint.
Again it was kit off, knee manipulation, then he went out to look at the MRI.
"Yep, it's torn alright." It was then finally, six months fully after the attack on my knee that I heard the words I had been waiting for. "The only solution is an operation."
I think most people, at this point, enquire about other options. Not me.
"Yes, you're right, when can I have it. Give it to me, I'll have it now if you've got a knife."
"I'll just get Mr Knee and see if he agrees." Oh.
Mr Knee could be heard outside my curtained area popping his head into various consultations. He was like a pop star spreading his fame around the room so that when he came through my curtain I nearly fainted.
"So what have we got here?" I couldn't speak. At last here was the man who was going to fix me. He wiggled my knee and then did a funny thing which made it click really loudly.
"Did you hear that?"
"My knee's shot, not my hearing."
"Ho, ho, we've got a comedian here Justin." Justin laughed as though Mr Knee had just finished the best joke of all time. Justin was like a snooker audience to Mr Knee's John Virgo.
"Well, it will need an operation. Are you okay with that?"
"Absolutely."
"It's not often we operate on someone your age, but we'll give it a go."
As he said this I thought he meant someone as young as me but when I was relaying the meeting to my wife I realised he meant someone so ancient. I'm 47. She laughed, at me, not with me I think, but I didn't care, I was going under the knife.
Bring it on!
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