In a perhaps gentle but unpleasant reminder that I’m a 49-year-old man with the body of a bruised 59-year-old, today my right knee popped out a bit while I was simply walking, slowly, across my kitchen. Hell, at the time I might have been standing still.
Time flies into a blur when you are wincing in pain.
For those checking records, this is not the knee that had surgery. This is my emotional support leg that had to do heavy lifting for four years while I relearned walking and has suffered quite a bit for it.
Joy.