Obliterated.
Yep, I’m sure that that’s the word that the orthopedic doctor told me when I saw him on Thursday. I believe his exact words were, “You obliterated your ACL.” I couldn’t tell you exactly what he said afterwards because I blacked out after I heard “obliterated.” Not blacked out in the sense that I passed out, but more like I was not able to focus or make out any words for a few seconds afterwards.
I didn’t understand. To obliterate something is to make it gone, disappear … And, yes, he did say that it was gone. My ACL was gone. Not visible in my MRI. He showed me. I looked. Then I looked again. Couldn’t see it.
My encounter with the orthopedist was not a favorable one. He kind of pissed me off in that he was not optimistic with my care. When I asked him what my options were he went on to tell me that it was “not common practice to reconstruct ACLs in 40 year olds.” He went on to suggest that I “might want to consider getting a custom brace instead.” Being that I was totally caught off guard by the fact that he told me my ACL was obliterated, I was not able to think of questions that I wanted to ask, and I had a whole slew of questions. I was quick witted enough to give him a snarky remark when, during my examination, he told me that my lateral knee pain was not consistent with an ACL issue. Um, you just told me that my ACL was obliterated and the MRI report also states that my iliotibial band (IT) was torn. The IT band runs lateral to my knee so, um, duh!
I was disappointed that the appointment was not going the way I was picturing it would be going. I did ask for an orthopedic surgery consult. I asked him to have an orthopedic surgeon look at my MRI to get his opinion. I also asked for a Physical Therapy consult. And I asked for a hinged knee brace to prevent my knee from moving laterally (side to side) since that most of my pain was with lateral movement.
I left frustrated. And by the time I got home I was ready to shed more tears. I briefly recapped my appointment to my husband who was just as dumbfounded as I was. I wish that he would’ve come with me, but I honestly didn’t believe that the news would be as devastating as it was. I shed my tears then picked myself up, took a deep breath and remembered that I would not let it get me bitter. I know better, therefore, I will do better, be better.
I have yet to talk to an orthopedic surgeon. I have yet to figure out what to do. I can’t weigh my options out yet as I don’t know what all of my options are. So until then … No news is good news. Until then it’s #KneeBraceChronicles2Point0.
Running Code 3 