It’s 8:30 on a Friday night, and I’ve been doing laundry for the last three hours and eating peanut butter by the spoonful. I know–I live a sexy life. (Try not to be jealous.) During my second load of laundry (of three), a pair of athletic shorts I’ve had since Jesus was a small boy got “hung up” in the dryer. I guess the drawstring snagged on the lint catcher. When I pulled the shorts out, the string was wound up tighter than a spring. Alas, the string was beyond repair, since it was sewn into the shorts and there was no way I could re-thread it. So grabbing a pair of scissors, I snipped the string and removed it altogether.

All good things must come to an end.

This morning, at the direction of my primary care physician, I saw an orthopedic surgeon who specializes in knees and sports injuries. This ended up being the best thing, and I consider it “an act of the universe” because I only called to make the appointment yesterday. Having looked at my MRI, the surgeon explained that as a result of my accident two weeks ago, I’d 1) bruised a bone, which was no deal at all, 2) torn my lateral meniscus, which was a small deal, and 3) severed my ACL, which was a big deal. He went on to say that the meniscus acts as a shock absorber and is basically a backup system for your joints. “They help stave off arthritis,” he said, “and I tell people that if you make it to 40 with yours intact, you’ve gotten your money’s worth. You’re 38, so close enough.” Then he said that because your ACL runs THROUGH your kneecap and gets a limited supply of blood, it CAN’T repair or heal itself when badly damaged.

“Yours is dying as we speak,” he said.

So that felt good.

The surgeon proposed shaving off the damaged part of my meniscus (since sewing a meniscus back together doesn’t work) and reconstructing my ACL with part of my own patellar tendon (the tendon just below one’s kneecap). He said, “If we used a cadaver’s, you’d heal faster, but your own will function slightly better. Since you’re an active person and I want you as strong as possible, I’d suggest using your own.” And then–get this shit. For the last thirteen days I’ve been hopping around on one leg, using crutches, using a walker. But like some sort of FAITH HEALER, this guy today said, “Stop using your crutches. Stop using your brace. I want you WALKING before surgery.”

Remembering how my leg gave out while I was performing two weeks, I sat there in disbelief.

The surgeon went on to explain that “you don’t need your ACL to walk,” since it’s responsible for twisting and pivoting movements, but other muscles, ligaments, and tendons are responsible for everyday getting around. Then he talked me through straightening my leg out fully and bending it to at least ninety degrees. Y’all, I almost fainted the pain was so awful. But the surgeon said, “If you think a loose knee is bad, you should try a stiff one.” (I thought, I’d rather try a stiff drink.) Still, his point was that I’ve gotta get my leg moving through its normal range of motion both before and after surgery so that my knee doesn’t “lock down.” Plus, he said movement would help reduce swelling, which I have plenty of.

So we have a plan. Surgery is scheduled for December 26. (Merry Christmas, Marcus Coker.) If you’d like, send cards, flowers, chocolates, and handsome, eligible bachelors to me by way of my parents.

Believe it or not, after all this time of my being fearful of putting weight on my left leg, I walked out of the surgeon’s office and have been walking the rest of the day. Sure, it’s not overly graceful walking–I’m not ready for the runway–but this is huge progress. Hell, I’ve even been walking up and down stairs. And whereas I can sometimes feel my knee strain, the surgeon said, “Don’t worry. You won’t do any damage. It’s ALREADY TORN.”

So that was a nice reminder.

Here’s a picture of the brace I no longer have to wear. Notice the cat (Oscar) peeking over the kitchen island.

Considering the fact that I haven’t fallen down yet, I’m thrilled about being able to walk. Honestly, I’ve been more optimistic today than I have been in the last two weeks. Like, life doesn’t completely suck. What does suck, I’ll admit, are these stretching exercises. Straightening my leg isn’t so bad, but bending it hurts like hell. I get nauseated every time I go past a certain point. Still, I’m determined to slowly make progress, since we’re talking about my potential for future movement here. To that end, I’m also not letting myself “cheat” on the stairs, as in only using my good leg to push myself up. Rather, I’m doing things like I normally would.

Push with my right leg, push with my left leg (say a curse word).
Push with my right leg, push with my left leg (say a curse word).

Even with limited range of motion and trepidation in my steps, having both my legs back is a game changer. Part of me wishes I’d known to “take up thy bed and walk” sooner, but this way I have a greater appreciation for all the “simple” things I took for granted before. Things like being able to get up and get myself a glass of water, do my own laundry, or even take a shower without sitting down or having to tie the handheld sprayer to an overhead mirror with the strap of a fluffy scubby thingy. (See picture below.)

The way I’m thinking about my severing my ACL is the way I’m thinking about my cutting the drawstring in my athletic shorts this evening. All good things must come to an end. (It was nice knowing you.) This moment is my new normal. And whereas part of me is fearful (I’ve been afraid to put weight on my leg for the last two weeks), another part is hopeful. Even confident. While driving home from the surgeon’s office, it was weird, it was like I could hear my leg talking to me. Not out loud of course, but our bodies are alive and our cells are conscious, so why couldn’t they talk to us? Anyway, I felt like mine was saying, “We can do this. We can support you.” This is huge, the idea that my body and I are working together here, that we’re stronger than I previously believed, and that our future looks bright.

Yes, today is a day for hoping.