Pity party, party of one....

 You've been cordially invited to Kirstie's pity party. Party of one. 

I totally understand if you'd like to decline. It's not much of a party. You've been fully warned. 

If you're a little curious,  please proceed...but feel free to vacate the premises at any time. 

My 43rd birthday is next week. Birthdays are a good time for reflection - a marker to evaluate the past year, and if you want to get really deep - your entire life thus far. 

I did the math. In the last 12 months, I have been on a crutch/crutches for 9 months. That's 3/4 of the year for those of you who enjoy fractions. In the last 10 years I have had 13 surgeries. I can't even begin to count how may of those years I've spent on crutches, but I would imagine that I've spent more time on crutches than off of them. 

Despite my diligence to water walking, light weight lifting, stretching, stationary bike riding, and performing every single freaking exercise and stretch assigned to me, I was never able to fully recover from surgery #13 in December. A myriad of complications interfered with recovery including suspected bursitis, a back sprain (who the hell sprains their back?) and a nice little bout of Norovirus for good measure. My rehab team expanded to include a Physiotherapist, Chiropractor, Massage Therapist, Acupuncturist, as well as my Doctor, Pain Specialist, Cartilage Specialist, and Pain Psychologist. My team is stacked! Like I have the Wayne Gretzky's and Bobby Orr's of teams!

Unfortunately, it looks as though my pain, catching, and immobility are due, yet again, to cartilage. Previously a scope and clean out of the knee provided me with about a year or so of pain relief, but it would appear as though this disease is taking over. My team, despite its awesomeness,  is no match for Osteochondritis Dissecans.

It's funny how certain words will stick with you. My friends and family rally around me, referring to me as "strong," "a warrior," "brave," and "resilient." Yet, about 7 years ago, as I begged a Doctor to sign off on documents that would allow me to see my cartilage specialist in Philly, five words were uttered to me that are currently playing on repeat in my brain. These words are so loud that they are drowning out all of the positive ones:

"YOU ARE A LOST CAUSE."

The Doctor was trying to warn me that these surgeries would likely not be effective, given the nature and presentation of my disease. In retrospect, maybe he was right. Maybe he was trying to be funny? (Orthos can be eccentric people!) But those words...man....those words haunt me!

I've pulled out my thick book of notes from my Pain Psychologist and reminded myself that mindset is pivotal in managing this disease. I put my ear buds in and sing, "I've got to keep on moving," as I work through challenging physio exercises. When I am overwhelmed by a staircase looming, I tell myself, "One step at a time. You got this." I imagine my body thanking me when I stretch and gently keep moving after a long day of work. Yet, "You are a lost cause" wakes me up with panic in the middle of the night. "You are a lost cause" takes ahold of me when I can't see through the pain. Dammit, I can't meditate those words out of my brain. 

I am tired. I am so so exhausted. The pain is relentless and at times, all consuming. I carry on, heading to work each day, attending each therapy appointment, and I hear myself saying, "All good!" "Getting there!" and my personal favorite, "No worries!" Those are all lies. I actually have ALL the worries. So so many worries! 

Each and every Specialist has advised me to avoid a knee replacement until there are no other options left to consider. I always suspected it was looming in my future, but the goal was to get to  at least age 55 before venturing down that path. Language is powerful to me, and the last 10 years I've heard countless phrases such as "We're not throwing in the towel yet," or "We haven't reached the end of the road yet." These phrases suggest defeat. I have been conditioned to believe that choosing a knee replacement means that I've lost the battle or that I am a quitter. I know many of you are reading this and thinking, "My dad had a knee replacement and is doing great!" or "Knee replacements aren't a big deal, why doesn't she just get one of those?" I'm not about to get into it now, but I am far from an ideal candidate for this procedure. It's a permanent surgery and there is no reversing that decision if I'm left with regrets.  However, at this point, it's about quality of life, and despite having so many fantastic people on my side, my quality of life is currently poor. I have come to a crossroads where I am faced with deciding between my current quality of life and "future Kirstie's" challenges. 

So after conferring with my all-star team, I realize that I have, indeed, come to the end of the road (Can you all hear Boyz To Men right now?). Today a Specialist eloquently stated, "Your knees are really really lousy." Got it. I appreciate the directness. But I have an option. It's not lost on me that many people get shit news and have no options. 

I have armed myself with a stacked team with incredible knowledge who all reiterate that I am NOT a lost cause. But...it's hard. It's really hard, and I'm not afraid to admit that. So rather than post a picture of a beautiful island sunset,  I'm just going to be honest and admit that I do not feel #blessed right now and things kinda suck at the moment. I need some time to process and come to terms with the fact that I am not accepting defeat, but rather, accepting that I've taken my knees as far as I can possibly take them. And not for lack of freaking trying!

In the meantime, I've been pumped full of cortisone, and although I'm currently experiencing the "cortisone flare" side effect (not awesome),  I am hopeful that I will soon experience some temporary relief. I desperately need a break from pain and a clear mind to make some decisions. 

My mom arrives on Thursday. I had visions of us going for nice beach walks, which ain't gonna happen, but I know that just having her here with me will lift my spirits. I need my mom, and am so thankful that she can be here with me!

Cheers. Thanks for coming to my pity party...and staying until the end!