So today is the last day that I have to spend with my old knees. I feel as if I should have had a going away party or something. Granted I haven't felt quite up to it, but just the same, my knees and I have been through a lot.
As a baby I'm sure that I put some miles on them, crawling around, testing them, learning how to walk. Later, it was hopscotch, skip-it and jump rope. Tree climbing and bike riding. Hiking and swimming, my knees and I did it all and made it through life with only a few scrapes and bruises between us.
At a young age I had also found horses, my passion in life, and my knees were right there with me. Supporting me as I learned how to ride and how to jump. Picking me up when I lost contact with my saddle, and made contact with the ground. My knees and I were a team.
Then something happened. We started to grow apart. At first it was little things, like running and dancing. Then, my knees no longer wanted to take the impact that came with high level equestrian jumping competition. After a while,they resisted even small tasks such as walking, standing and climbing stairs. They had completely forsaken me, leaving me to spend my days in bed or experiencing life outside of my apartment, from a wheelchair, looking up at my world around me. Looking up at a world that I was so used to surveying from the back of a horse, or the limb of a tree. My knees and I had reached a cross road.
It was an easy decision. The decision to replace my old knees with new metal and plastic ones. I feel it was like the decision a major league coach makes when he pulls from the bull pen. He knows the man standing on that mound is done and worn out, even injured, but the game still needs to be won. So he brings in the relief pitcher, and with this new, refreshed pitcher, the promise of the chance to win the game.
So here I stand on my pitching mound ready, ready for relief, ready for promise, and ready to turn this game around.