I get attached to my body parts- as flawed and imperfect as they may be, they are mine and mine alone.
The bone on bone knee to your left? You can call him Rusty.
If you spend any time with me, especially doing anything active like……walking? You notice Rusty, you see Rusty’s troubled past.
I’m a tad hobbled, a little limpy…..lets face it, I walk like penguin. Rusty has aged to about 80. But I am not 80.
Rusty has supported me through years of bump skiing, marathons, hiking, biking and poor decisions. I do love Rusty and our contentious, swollen relationship.
But I can no longer rely on this beautiful knee of mine. A couple weeks ago on a backcountry ski, I had to turn around before I summitted the Banana Bowl. Who turns around before the Banana Bowl?????
Last week in the beautiful powdery trees of Steamboat, Rusty complained, protested and finally decided he had enough. Who leaves the beautiful powdery trees of Steamboat?
Today I sat with my surgeon, wondering what else we could do for Rusty. He words were, “Heather, anything we do for your knee, other than replacing it, is like using duct tape on the Titanic.”
Fine. Fine witty surgeon.
And so I rallied the troops. Called the Hubs and made a plan. Rusty and I will spend the summer together. It will be Rusty’s last hurrah. We will swim and bike, take short limpy walks together. And as the leaves fall from the trees, we will say goodbye.
Rusty will be replaced with something new and shiny- something not of flesh and bone but titanium and plastic. It will serve its purpose but it will never be Rusty- nothing could ever be Rusty. But I am now at the point where that might be okay.
Sometimes making a decision is a delight. A terrifying perhaps painful delight but a delight none the less.