Identifiers or "We Are Who We Say We Are - Just Ask Us"

The next chapter of Nell the new knee is really a prequel. It is the story of who the knee was before it was Nell.

I was a healthy young woman jumping rope. Then I was a little bit - oh such a wee bit - damaged. But I recovered quickly and became who I became.

Becoming is a funny thing. Somewhere along the way you attach "identifiers" to yourself. I mean the adjectives not the nouns. I was strong. I was always a tomboy kinda girl which was interesting since I was not athletic at all and while one of my identifiers was "strong" another one was "clumsy" ( my grandmother gave me that one and no one ever told me I could refuse it or give it back so I carried it right next to strong- oh well,) I was a worker bee and could outlast all the girls and alot of the boys on any given day on most day's tasks.

So, all that work and being attached as I was to that label, jumprope incident behind me - I became a STRONG woman. And that knee and my identifier carried on together for 40 years. Exactly 40. From 17 to 57, my knee and I did just fine,
( well, except for those times that we didn't; but they never lasted long and aspirin gave way to tylenol which gave way to advil in those forty years so any trouble it gave me was covered. ) And then the knee said "uncle".

Hey, forty years isn't a bad run - right?

The story of Nell-the-new-knee

Rarely does the story of a new knee start and end on the same day. The story of my new knee ( affectionately known as Nell) started decades ago. I will tell this story in three paragraph sound bites. It is a story of patience, determination, stubborn denial, terror and relief. The end of the story is so new, it is still being written. But that is the end and this is the beginning.

I was 17 and graduating from high school in just a few days; the processional line-up had been set. We were assigned our places by our height in heels. I was one of the tallest girls so I was in the back of the line. My shoes were polished, my gown was pressed. Our exams were over - for better or worse. School got out early. We were free as birds.

Joyce and Linda and I were high on life - we were playing jump rope. Yup, you got it right. We were high school kids waiting for graduation and we were jumping rope in the back yard when it happened. I heard it before I felt it but I knew immediately that there would be no heels for me at graduation.

It was just a sprain. No one worried. No one wondered if it would bother me all the days of my life - and it didn't, well, not for years to come. But that week, that hot June week of 1968, the big commotion was that now they would have to change the line up so that I could wear flats - and carry crutches.

That is the beginning of the story of Nell-the-new-knee.