As I was walking the puppy this morning, I realized something that I’ve been semi-acknowledging by refusing to actually acknowledge it for weeks: my left knee is in trouble.
I went from not needing any sort of bandage on it, just leg warmers to keep it warm when I was dancing, to the occasional ace bandage, and now I’ve jumped all the way to ridiculous neoprene knee brace with patella support and tracking as well as side support. It’s an old knee brace, so it isn’t like I’ve just run out to my friendly neighborhood orthopedist and gotten a new-fangled contraption. But the reality is it’s necessary. Very necessary. I should probably be wearing it whenever I put weight on my knee necessary.
I was so excited by getting to dance again I didn’t really think about the consequences. When I went to play tennis with Superman a few weeks ago and spent the following week with my right wrist wrapped in an ace bandage, I chalked it up to the whole “I haven’t been using that joint in that way, so of course it’s going to react” phenomenon. I suppose the same thing has been going on with my left knee and dance class. I’m bringing on the Zumba, I’m teaching my very own Baby Dance class and assisting to take over another Baby Dance class, and I’m putting everything out there during Bobby’s adult hip-hop. Knee-schmee. It’ll just have to get used to it, but it will get used to it. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Let’s do some lunges!
As I reacted to the pain climbing the stairs this morning, tightening my face and biting the inside of my lip, I had to finally admit it’s real and it’s growing. This is probably the bitchest part of RA. I can be a perfectly normal individual, nothing hurting, nothing slowing me down, but I’m on the edge of everything going wrong. I don’t know how wrong my knee is going or what the end result will be (Super Inflatable Knees!), but I know that the only way to fix it is to quit what I’m doing. Stop, make sure I understand where the edge is, and reset myself so I’m not stepping over it in any way. No more dancing. No more taking the stairs if it isn’t unavoidable. Back in the pool if I want to exercise. I just can’t do that, though. I’ve been handling the big 2-9 pretty well, but that’s partly because I’ve gotten back some important things in my life I had lost, the big one being dance. I want to keep this up. I enjoy this. I’m proud of my Baby Dance girls, and I’m proud of myself for busting out Bobby’s choreography in hip-hop. Zumba is fun and another means to an end (potential $$$ once I’m certified). The best part of my week is heading to the dance studio, even if it is after a long day of “work” and teaching and field experiencing and trying to keep up with homework. I absolutely refuse to chose a healthy joint over something I love.
Eventually I’ll have to have my knees replaced. This is inevitable, especially due to being diagnosed with RA at such a young age. Advancements in joint replacement are happening all the time, and recently replacement joints were developed that are gender specific, helping to speed recovery time and increase post-op joint use. If I continue the way I’m going, knee replacement could happen sooner than later, and as cyber-joints don’t last forever, I could potentially go through at least one pair before I kick the bucket. I’m not looking forward to this, but I’m accepting it, just like I’ll accept whatever kneebrace from hell my doctor can come up with when I see her in January and explain I’m stupid and going to continue being stupid. I suppose I’m sort of like a smoker, in that I understand the damage I’m doing to my body, but I’m not stopping. It’s my choice.
It just isn’t the smartest choice I’ve ever made.
Posted by the center of attention 
