Monday, September 27, 2010

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.

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