So, it's official: The doctor called tonight to say I have a torn ACL (anterior cruciate ligament), one of the four major ligaments of the knee. This means I will probably never be a professional athlete, which is fine, since now I can focus on my dream of becoming a rock star and/or President of the United States and/or fudge taste tester.
My knee doesn't hurt much unless I move it the wrong way or Sabrina jumps on it. I'm supposed to go to physical therapy which is fine, too, because I am going to have the most buff, in-shape left knee of anyone. And you thought it looked so svelte in the x-ray—just you wait and see how sexy my knee is going to be!
Perhaps you have guessed that I am not really fazed by this whole knee thing. Maybe it's because after those two weeks of NICU hell when Max was born, any health glitch (especially my own) seems like a mere nuisance. Maybe this is just typical of most moms—I don't have time to throw my knee a pity party. Honestly, my only real concern is carrying Max down (and sometimes up) the staircase in our home; I need two steady knees for that. So far, so good.
My friend Hedy says having a torn ACL is a badge of honor, because it's a common sports injury. I just Googled it, and apparently, I am in excellent company as World Wrestling Entertainment diva Melina suffered the same exact injury the other week, a woman described as being "just as dangerous as she is beautiful," which is what people say about me all the time. Another coincidence: Her "signature ring entrance" is a "sexy split." Which is so funny, because that is exactly what I do whenever I take the kids to their friends' birthday parties.
And we look alike, too!
Anyhoo, if you know someone who is not Melina who has survived an ACL tear (and, bonus, has gone on to be a rock star, POTUS or fudge taste tester), let me know.
Oh, and belated thanks to Lynn from the very entertaining blog Midday Escapades for the nice words about this blog, and to all of you who have been e-mailing me. Me and my left knee much appreciate it.
