As I write this, the moment has already passed, so take this with a grain of salt… but it still feels poignant to me that Saturday was the three year anniversary. Of things that everyone else is tired of hearing about! A few friends have told me outright – and a few others have been […]
As I write this, the moment has already passed, so take this with a grain of salt… but it still feels poignant to me that Saturday was the three year anniversary. Of things that everyone else is tired of hearing about! A few friends have told me outright – and a few others have been more subtle about it – that hearing about me and my knee infections and the depression it has caused and all that; frankly, it’s kind of a downer. I get that and I can’t blame them, because frankly, however much of a downer it was to hear about it (and I can only imagine it sucked), I can promise you that it was at least ten thousand times worse to live it.
But this is a happy anniversary. 10/30/07, the date of my first surgery, after 10/03/07, the date of the injury that caused all this. For literally the first time since this *****ing ***re of**** a ***son ***ish ***ington who****if***ford madness started, we have good news. For the first time, a physical therapist told me that my quad was strong enough to start agility exercises (and was actually correct), and that I was no more than six or eight weeks from full athletic clearance. And for the first time, I really felt like I might actually beat this thing. I use those words intentionally because I know how ridiculous they sound; those are the words that people like me usually use to describe their battles with cancer. It sounds ridiculous, and it should, and yet, that’s how it has felt from day one: a struggle for life and nothing less.
I’m not home yet. I have a couple months of hopping around on one leg until the PT says I’m ready, and Christ, I hope it all turns out according to plan. But in the meantime, it seems relevant to point out that I honestly faced times (over the past few years) where I never thought I would get here, and yet here I am. Tonight, I even had the gumption of sending an email to my manager of the Reds saying that it was time for us to play catch so I’d be ready for the season.
This isn’t yet a happy ending. It could be. Let’s wait. Let’s not jinx it. Let’s just cross our fingers and let our minds run wild with the possibilities. That’s enough for me right now, enough for a man whose knee might one day work again.