wickedflea (
wickedflea) wrote2003-09-12 12:19 pm
(no subject)
I am officially old. For the last few days I have not been able to bound up the stairs or crouch down without getting a sharp pain in my right knee. The knees are always the first thing to go, you know.
Actually I'm sort of afraid that this is related to the time I ripped that knee apart when I was 8. I was playing basketball at my house, and my basketball goal was really ghetto. It had this U-shaped bolt that held two sections of the post together, and the two ends of the U stuck out past the post a couple of inches. Also, right on the other side of the goal, which stood at the edge of the driveway, was a downhill slope, so when you missed a shot you had to haul ass after the ball to catch it before it went into the trees and vines at the edge of the yard--or if you were really unlucky, down the BIG-ASS hill to the left. Anyway, on the day I got out from school for Christmas vacation in 1979, I missed a shot badly, took off after the ball, and managed to catch my knee on the U-shaped bolt. It tore a HUGE gash in my knee. It looked like I'd grown a bloody mouth on my leg. And as I hobbled toward the house, my knee made these nasty creaking noises like it needed oil or something.
Anyway, a super-duper surgeon ended up working on me and fixing me up pretty well. He said the bolt was dangerously close to causing heavy-duty damage, but somehow it didn't. So they bandaged me up to hobble around the house without bending my knee for the whole vacation. I actually got the bandages off the day before I went back to school. That seems like a ridiculously short time, considering the size of the gash, but anyway.
So the knee never really caused me much trouble. Over the years I've felt a few pains every now and again, but nothing recurring. But for the last week or so it's kept happening. So when I get to Mississippi in a week or so I'm going to kick my old man's ass for setting me up with a ghetto basketball goal all those years ago. Wait, it would probably hurt me to kick his ass; maybe I should just bitchslap the old coot.
Actually I'm sort of afraid that this is related to the time I ripped that knee apart when I was 8. I was playing basketball at my house, and my basketball goal was really ghetto. It had this U-shaped bolt that held two sections of the post together, and the two ends of the U stuck out past the post a couple of inches. Also, right on the other side of the goal, which stood at the edge of the driveway, was a downhill slope, so when you missed a shot you had to haul ass after the ball to catch it before it went into the trees and vines at the edge of the yard--or if you were really unlucky, down the BIG-ASS hill to the left. Anyway, on the day I got out from school for Christmas vacation in 1979, I missed a shot badly, took off after the ball, and managed to catch my knee on the U-shaped bolt. It tore a HUGE gash in my knee. It looked like I'd grown a bloody mouth on my leg. And as I hobbled toward the house, my knee made these nasty creaking noises like it needed oil or something.
Anyway, a super-duper surgeon ended up working on me and fixing me up pretty well. He said the bolt was dangerously close to causing heavy-duty damage, but somehow it didn't. So they bandaged me up to hobble around the house without bending my knee for the whole vacation. I actually got the bandages off the day before I went back to school. That seems like a ridiculously short time, considering the size of the gash, but anyway.
So the knee never really caused me much trouble. Over the years I've felt a few pains every now and again, but nothing recurring. But for the last week or so it's kept happening. So when I get to Mississippi in a week or so I'm going to kick my old man's ass for setting me up with a ghetto basketball goal all those years ago. Wait, it would probably hurt me to kick his ass; maybe I should just bitchslap the old coot.