Soaking It in Rice

Many lumps of incense on the same altar. One crumbles now, one later, but it makes no difference.
     —Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

My left knee isn't right. It crackles and pops when I go down the stairs. It sounds comically like someone chomping ever so gently on a celery stalk. And that's the good one. The other is suffering some kind of runner's knee at the moment.

It's my own fault. I was standing at my new sit-stand desk far too much. The hours spent working and playing at the computer, combined with routinely walking at least four miles every day, must have added up to 12 to 14 hours on my feet daily (and sometimes more). I guess that's too much. Who knew? Sure, I suspected as much but didn't know, exactly. Certainly not like I do now.

I was healing reasonably quick until I took a walk to celebrate being back on my feet, as it were. I couldn't have gone more than a mile or two, tops. My knee was doing fine for most of the journey. Then, as I was headed homeward, the joint grew ever more aggravated. I was only a few blocks from my apartment, and the pain wasn't severe, so I pushed through it. This decision was not so bright on my part. Had I known, I'd have sat right down on the street corner for an hour or so to let it rest.

I now find my knee in worse condition than it was before. Fortunately, it does seem to be making another effort at healing, albeit halfhearted at best. I can walk about three blocks in a row before the joint needs a considerable rest period. That sounds pretty bad, but two weeks ago, I couldn't make it to the park located a half-block away from my apartment. It's progress.

I've been through all this before with the other knee. In fact, that one was on the fritz for so long, I often get confused about which side the pain is coming from now. I reckon my brain got so used to the good knee being the bad knee that it naturally assumes all knee-related pain must originate from the left-side. I'm taking things easy from this point on and being patient about recovery. I even purchased a folding cane, which helps tremendously.

What I did not know about walking canes is that you need at least two. One for inside the house and another for outside. The world is filthy at the best of times, and these are by no means the best of times. Personally, I'd recommend buying a dozen of them to scatter around the house. This will save a lot of frustration trying to remember where you left your cane, and how the heck you got wherever you are now without the darn thing.

Roy Clark - Folsum Prison Blues