Broken Knee, Broken Brain

I was walking home from work one night last week when BAM, it felt like someone stabbed my knee. I didn't fall, I didn't twist it, I didn't trip, and there was no knife. Just all the sudden there was pain. My knee has bothered me off and on for the last 10 years but never quite like that, where I really felt like something in there had shifted. So I headed to the doctor where they took some x-rays, tried to understand that there was no dramatic story to accompany the injury, and referred me to an orthopaedic specialist (read: surgeon) to address the "arthritis and bone spurs."

WHAT?! In all fairness, I should've known this was coming. In high school, the knee's cartilage was removed so naturally, one assumes that the bones have started settling onto each other. But I thought it would somehow be okay.

My meeting with the surgeon was yesterday. I'll explain what happened, but first let me tell you the thoughts that my brain created between the incident and yesterday's appointment. These. Are. Real.

• How on earth will I even schedule a surgery between work events and trips to the lakehouse and life?!
• This is the beginning of the end for my body...piece by piece, it is breaking down.
• How am I going to get to and from work? I won't be able to walk a mile to the train like I do now, certainly can't navigate steps, escalators or hordes of agitated commuters. And it's my right knee so I can't operate gas and brake pedals and can barely drive a car now much less when I'm impaired!
• It's too early in my life for a knee replacement, but clearly, they are going to need to do one. How many surgeries will I need to get me through life?
• Arthritis is for old people.
• I'm old!
• When they offered me the "cutting edge" cartilage replacement surgery in high school, I was such an idiot for not taking them up on the offer to be a medical guinea pig. All of this could've been avoided.
• Simon is going to have to walk the dog until the end of time. The dog will hate me if I don't walk him anymore.
• How will I ever work out again? (Okay, that is fake. There's nothing more that I'd love than an excuse to not move).

The bottom line is, of course, I don't need surgery. The dude was basically like, keep doing what you're doing. The knee is fine.

So yeah, yippee for the knee thing, but let's bring the attention back to the brain. I do this all the time. I come to a conclusion before waiting to see what actually happens. Then I weave this wild web of reactions. These range from medical self-diagnoses to determining that friends now hate me because they didn't respond to an email in 30 seconds to "I'm getting fired!"

If anything, the above INSANITY needs to be a lesson. Predicting then planning for the worst is not a good strategy and wastes energy that could otherwise be expended in numerous positive, self-enriching ways. Like clothes shopping, dog cuddling, or double deck solitaire.

I'm not sure if other people do this (anybody?) but I'm going to try to stop because the bottom line is we only get this tiny sliver of time here...what's the point of dithering around with fretting and worrying about fake stuff? Time to revel in the moments, savor the space we're in, and know we are doing the best we can no matter what comes our way.