Who Knew That Knees Could Be Made Of Balsa Wood ? I Didn't

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Don't play on the teeter-totter post-40...it's just not made for middle aged idiots...well, idiots, sure, but not middle aged ones. Turns out I tore a meniscus in my right knee while playing with Zed in the park, and I've been a limpy gimpy drip of a Dad for days, a full week, in fact. I finally had a consult with a damn good Orthopedic Surgeon today...you know, officially, not on the down-low just 'cause Uncle B works for them. Today an actual factual surgeon jammed a great big fat needle into my knee and drained about a billion litres of yellow gunk out of my knee and lower quad...that was kind of dodgy...especially when Dr. K started rummaging around in there, you know, with that turkey baster of a needle. That sucked.

The diagnosis...

Torn meniscus...right knee. We drained the bugger...go home and ice it, rest it. take it easy, then come back in a month and talk about surgery.

Strangely enough, I'm about as bouncy as you could expect a guy to be...times ten. It is what it is. I got me a balsa wood leg, but no biggie. I like balsa wood.

Thanks Uncle B for breaking ahout seventy-eight rules today and sneaking me in. Now I'm really sorry for breaking your nose that one time. You're alright.