Doctor's Recommendation

 Drove downtown last Thursday afternoon. I had an appointment with a doctor to look at the swelling on the back of my knee. I've had years of knee challenges, starting way back when I tore up my left knee when I jumped out of a swing. In my twenties. I am no longer in my twenties. For the past thirty-something years I have been managing injury and expectations where my joints are concerned. Each time a page falls off the calendar, I feel my age catching up with me. 

Al Gore's Internet was kind enough to diagnose that swelling as something called a Baker's Cyst. After a couple weeks of waiting for it to just go away, I decided to do something to which I am unaccustomed: I went to see a doctor. I don't like to go see doctors because it has yet to be my experience that they give me the once-over and simply dropped their clipboards and said, "There's nothing we can tell you. You're doing an amazing job keeping yourself up. You could teach us all a thing ro two about taking care of yourself."

Not once. 

Not this time either. First off, the x-ray confirmed Al Gore's suspiciions of a Baker's Cyst. The doctor who examined me concurred. Oh, and about that blood pressure reading, that's a little high isn't it? 

So what's the good news? In a couplle of weeks I'm going to get a call from a doctor checking in about that elevated blood pressure. We're going to take a "wait and see" attitutde toward that lump at the back of my knee. Which is pretty annoying since that's what I was doing all by myself without all that poking and prodding. And anxiety. That high blood pressure reading was most likely bumped a few points by my worries about being found to be not just aging but infirm. Why should I be worried? I'm going to live forever, right? Just like I'm going to keep running forever. 

Unless that swelling on the back of my leg turns into some sort of parasitic creature that crawls out of my knee and consumes me and the rest of my familly as we sleep, or my heart bursts in my chest as I watch this week's slate of NFL games. 

Medical science, don'tcha know.