The never ending saga of my knees continues.
Yesterday while going to other doctor's appointments my left knee decided that it had enough of this foolishness and sorta "seized" up. I can't remember anything else that EVER hurt quite so much as my knee did at that moment. Once I got my wits back about me, I went home and did the typical ice bags and tens unit for a few hours.
Today, I went to my ortho doc and had them checked out. It was a good news/ bad news kind of thing. He told me that my left knee all in all looked "O.K." but my right knee looked to be bone on bone, so it looks like I might be having replacement surgery. He wants to try a type of "lubricant" on it first. He needs to check and see if my insurance will cover the cost first. According to him, the treatment will be around $1200.
But in the meantime, he figured that we should try to do something for my pain, so he wrote me another prescription and got out the steroids.
For those of you who have never had steroid shots in the knees, what a delight it is! The medico takes a needle that would not be out of place in the ass of a rhino after being put there by Marlin Perkins, fills it with a thick white fluid and plunges it into a area that you would swear that it wouldn't fit. NOT the most fun that I have ever had with my pants off, I must say.
It did reduce the pain from sharp stab to dull ache so I guess it helped.
So there I was, after all these fun and games, sitting in the Wal-mart parking lot waiting for the good wife to do some shopping. Today here in North Carolina it was a gorgeous day, brilliantly blue sky, with the occasional fluffy cotton candy like clouds. I had the windows down in the car to catch the breeze and was listening to my favorite rock station when I heard a sorta "growling roar" up in the sky. Now I had heard that noise before but couldn't place it. I looked up and saw a beautifully restored P-51 Mustang flying over. The noise was the sound of the Mustang's engine which I had heard on multiple documentaries of WWII. I will tell you this, the recordings don't do justice to the real thing. There is no mistaking that sound. The pilot circled around then headed north-west. I can see why they named it the Mustang. It seemed to be moving around effortlessly in the sky, but it also seemed that it was patiently waiting to cut loose, like a guard dog leaning on it's chain hoping a link would break. You could say that it was like a thoroughbred horse. That seeing it, you just knew that it would win the race. Just looking at it, it transported me in my mind up into the cockpit with that lucky pilot, handling the controls, scanning the sky feeling the power that he controlled. The sun glinting off of the polished metal that went into it's construction. It was as the Japanese would say, a poem in motion. I thought "Now, THAT is a nice way to take my mind off my troubles" The P-51 flew off and left me alone with my thoughts.
Later, as we were heading home, that same P-51 flew over the interstate on it's way to making a landing at our local airport. When I got home and skimmed the newspaper, I saw that both the Mustang and a restored B-17 bomber were at the airport for a small show in tribute to the vets of WWII.
Maybe I can head over there tomorrow and check it out.
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