Needles and Knees

I finally went to the knee doctor several weeks ago to get my knees checked out. I have bad knees. I feel as if I have always had bad knees - I had surgery after my Freshman year of high school for torn cartilage and it seems to have just gone downhill from there. Lately, I have avoided using stairs at all and enjoyed a cacophony of creaking, popping, and grinding noises when I would squat, sit down, stand up, etc. As suspected, I have more cartilage damage, but this time in both knees. To try and stave off surgery as long as possible we opted to do some weird injections in my knees (with stuff made from Rooster combs). This seems like a good idea except for one thing...I hate needles.

We're talking hate needles.... as in begin to have a small panic attack when I have to get the flu shot (which I can never feel, but I know there is a needle and it freaks me out) and usually go to strange lengths to avoid getting blood drawn, shots, etc.

Yesterday was the first of 3 injections. I dragged Scott there to try and keep me calm while they shoved huge needles into the middle of my knee joints and filled them with rooster parts. Note to self - bringing a husband who is super intrigued by all gross medical procedures may not be the best way to calm yourself down. As soon as the nurse left the room Scott went over and decided to start looking over all of the needles, bottles, and other stuff they were going to use. Just looking at them SILENTLY was beyond his control, he decided it would be best to describe them to me IN DETAIL. Length of needle, gauge of needle, etc. Seriously? When I mentioned this wasn't very helpful, I got the response, "Know your enemy." Once the Dr. came in, they felt the need to discuss every aspect of what was happening in detail. So much for wanting to pretend it wasn't happening.

Now I am bored out of my mind as I try and follow Dr.'s orders to take it easy for several days. Hence a blog post.