It was 11 years ago this week that I blew out my ACL playing softball.
Back then, Dr. G. and I had joined a beer league for 20-somethings down in Baltimore. And I loved it. It was a nice way for Dr. G. and I to meet new people in our adopted city, and this coed league was looking for some girls, so we signed up. I grew up playing softball and it was fun dusting off my old slow-pitch and second base skills.
It was there, at second base, that it happened. Only four weeks after we returned from our honeymoon.
With a runner on first, the batter hit the ball to center field — so sharply that we actually had a play at second. I planted my right foot on the base as I squared up to get the throw from our outfielder, but the throw was wide. I twisted to try and get it, while still keeping my foot on the bag, and POP.
Down I went.
I think I started crying. I think I was in a bit of shock, too. I’ve always had what I called “cranky knees,” but this was something else entirely.
Dr. G. was playing third base at the time and finally figured out what had happened and came running over. I couldn’t put any weight on my leg, and my knee was already starting to swell.
A bunch of the guys brought me over to the bench, where I put on some ice and watched the rest of the game.
I really thought at that time that it was just a bad sprain, nothing more. In fact, I even hobbled out with Dr. G. for post-game drinks with the team. It was as we were leaving, when I saw how swollen my knee still was, and I knew — I just knew — something was really wrong.
The next day, I stopped in at a local urgent care, got some crutches, some pain meds, and a referral to an orthopedic surgeon. One appointment, an one MRI later, my diagnosis was clear: a complete tear of my ACL (no MCL or cartilage damage).
My doctor (an orthopedic surgeon who worked with the Baltimore Ravens!) said it had probably been partially torn for years (probably the source of my cranky knees) and that one wrenching move during the softball game was enough to rupture it completely. Because I was young and active and had a compete tear, I was looking at reconstructive surgery.
I still remember the doctor taking out his Palm Pilot-like device (hey, it was 2004) and asking me, “How’s next week for surgery?”
I don’t remember much about the day of surgery, but I do remember days and days spent laying on the couch afterwards, my knee feeling like some foreign part of my body, all swollen and stitched up and stiff., and feeling pretty darn sorry for myself.
Being forced to stay immobile and not being able to do anything for myself was sooooo hard for me (something those of you who know me well will find hard to believe, right? Ha).
I was dependent on Dr. G. for everything…to drive me places, to bring me food and drinks (totally impossible to carry a glass of water using crutches). Eventually, I grabbed an old cross-body bag and strapped it across my chest so I could at least stash things in there (a book, a magazine, the phone) as I lumbered from room to room in our apartment.
And then rehab began. As those of you who have rehabbed after knee surgery know, it’s a painful and incredibly humbling process. Before the surgery, I was in the best shape of my life up to that point, having just lost some weight for my wedding two months earlier and becoming a bit of a gym rat. I went from spin class three times a week to nearly crying with joy the first time I could make one full revolution on the bike at PT.
Like I said, humbling.
(And let’s not talk about the weight I gained during this time as I sat around, immobile and unable to exercise. It was pretty much all that weight I worked so hard to lose for the wedding. I know it sounds dumb, but I really was devastated by this).
It was a long, and often frustrating, road to recovery, but eventually after many months of PT, I was able to build the strength back in my leg and finally got the all clear to resume “normal” activity.
But I was petrified. I was so scared I was going to do something and that sucker would tear all over again. I avoided lunges and anything involving jumping like the plague. I took spin class with the resistance waaaay down. I did a lot of walking. In some respects, the mental recovery was even longer than the physical recovery, but after awhile I built my confidence back up and began to trust my knee again.
Today, aside from my scars, my knee is okay, although I do have some arthritis (pretty common for people who have had ACL surgery), and I swear, my knee can predict the weather (especially pending rain) better than any meteorologist. And I still refuse to take up sports like skiiing, for fear of re-injuring myself.
It’s amazing that 11 years later, that surgically repaired knee has carried me through five half marathons…and allowed me to run and chase and even jump (after my first trampoline park experience on Tuesday night) after my kids. And I am grateful for every step.
Any ACL surgery veterans out there? What was the worst part of your recovery?
(By the way, sorry for the lack of photos for this post! I realized I never took any at the time of my surgery, and who really wants to see my scars :>)