Back in January I had a bit of a scare regarding a knee injury. A decent-sized lump on the side of my knee was causing me a significant amount of pain while working out. The pain always subsided soon afterwards though, so I never did anything about it. But after much goading from Luc, I went into physio to see if I couldn't get things back to normal. Unfortunately, the physiotherapist was stumped, and for some reason she thought it was appropriate to tell me that it may be "something scary", and that she couldn't treat me further until I saw a doctor and was properly diagnosed. Because it may be "something scary..."
And you can all guess where my mind immediate jumped: cancer. It's a cancerous tumour and I'm dying, I figured. I had been completely reasonable until someone with a certificate on the wall blurted the words "something scary."
Of course I got into the doctor's office as soon as possible, and left another couple of physicians in my wake, equally as stumped as the physiotherapist. This time, however, I was sent to have x-rays taken. I spent the next week waiting for the results, sifting through a variety of situations, all the while unsuccessfully trying to convince myself that everything was fine. Everything was fine, though. So fine that the doctor's office didn't even need me to come in to review the results. So fine that I could just blow it off.
And because of my waxing and waning gym motivation through the rest of the hectic school year, I never got the chance to work out consistently enough for my knee to become a big problem. But now that I've slid back into the cozy workaday schedule of 9-5, I've had the routine opportunity to work my knee into the ground. And it got bad again. Really bad. There was obviously something wrong, no matter what the x-rays looked like.
A few days ago I returned to the same doctor's office and saw a different doctor. It was one of those appointments. It could have been a comedy sketch. I was there to have my knee checked and I was wearing jeans so tight I could barely get them above my calves. The doctor commented on that. We both laughed. But what really started as me going there to get a referral to a knee specialist turned into three needles in my knee, me freaking out, several instances of me saying "oh god, oh god, I'm going to pass out...", me lying down on the bed trying to stay conscious (I have a tendency of fainting...ask my friends...), and it all ended with the doctor and I sitting around, eating a box of shortbread cookies and reminiscing about living in Richmond.
I have another appointment on Thursday and this time they're going to have the x-rays in the office to examine alongside my knee-non-tumour. Even though I know it's not "something scary," I'm still kind of nervous. I hope I get shortbread again this time.
1 day ago