Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Knee Doping

I have denied it for a full 24 hours, but it's time that I come straight with my readership ...

I'm a knee doper.

Yes, it's true.  On Tuesday, I received a cortisone injection in my left knee to get ahead of my pes tendinitis.  I suppose all my victories going forward will be noted with an asterisk because my knee has received a performance-enhancing substance.

You didn't really think that natural knees could be so fantastically endowed, did you?

In truth, I have struggled for the last few weeks with tendinitis in my left knee.  This injury is different from stress fractures or more abrupt injuries, because it comes and goes like a cat through an open door.  No rhyme or reason -- sometimes it's there, sometimes it isn't.  I had figured out that with Aleve in my system, I could run 6-10 miles with pain at about 3/10 (a 10 meaning so painful I can't walk).  The problem is that I'm not running a 6-10 mile race.  Anything that hurts 3/10 after 10 miles will hurt 13/10 by mile 26.  The doctor offered a cortisone shot, and everyone I spoke with seemed to agree that this would be an instant fix for the discomfort.

Well, apparently not an "instant" fix.  Nobody mentioned that it would actually be 10 times more painful for the first 24 hours, until my doctor mentioned it (after giving me the shot).  I was also not prepared for the shot itself.  I don't usually flinch when I get a flu shot or even a tetanus shot.  How bad could a shot into your knee be, really?  After the doctor looked at the knee with the ultrasound, he prepared the syringe and started talking to me.

"So how many kids do you have?"
"Well, I have a 5 year old daughter and a 2- SONOVA!!!" [yanking my knee away instinctively]

Apparently that part of your knee is not as conducive to needles as the fleshy part of your arm.  It was 4 pricks of a very uncomfortable needle.  It felt like the shot went into my knee bone, or whatever that is.  But then, voila! My knee almost immediately began to feel better.  I thought, "Wow, why didn't I do this a few weeks ago?"  So I asked the doctor, "So now what?  Do I just go on with my training?" 

His response: "Oh, well, it'll be fine until the numbing agent wears off, but for the next 24 hours, it's going to hurt like SH#T.  Don't worry.  It'll get better each day."

What the what?  This wasn't supposed to hurt.  It was supposed to fix the knee.  For the next 6 hours, my knee DID feel better.  I thought, "Maybe I'm a part of the population that is uniquely suited to receive cortisone injections without the side-effects."  Maybe riding my bike is actually good for it.  Halfway into my bike ride home, I learned otherwise.  The pain and stiffness hit me like a swift kick to the ... err, knee.  It was all I could do to finish pedaling home.  Last night, it was so painful, I couldn't even sleep for much of the night.  (And when I did fall asleep, on my back with my leg propped up just so, I snored so loudly that Alisha snuck away and slept on the couch.  I've said it before ... I have the best wife!)  My doctor had very accurately described the pain in one word.  I suppose that's why they go to medical school.

It has now been 24 hours.  Is it better than last night?  Yes.  Is it less painful than before the shot?  No way.  If this thing works, it could be what saved my Ironman.  If it doesn't, then I'll feel like an idiot for subjecting myself to a shot in my knee.  (And the dubious title of being a knee doper.)

1 comment:

  1. It's not performance enhancing. It's pain relieving. You're good.

    ReplyDelete