Well, in a literal sense, I am broken. At least my meniscus is. Snapped right off and had to be sewn back together with the grace and expertise of an amazing sports orthopedic surgeon. No more pickleball for me—or for K—ever. Small price to pay, I guess. According to Dr. Kobayahsi, who happens to be presenting at a sports injury conference next week, PB is 300% more likely to cause surgical-worthy injuries than any other sport. Who knew? Now I’m technically a statistic, even though my injury was caused by cumulative stress while playing, which was then exacerbated by one spectacularly abrupt twisting motion while walking down an uneven dirt path in the jungle while visiting an animal refuge.
The post-op pain and suffering have been crazy bad. I had expected the Doc to insert a scope in my knee, do a little magic, and off I’d go, skipping out of the hospital. Not even close. I’m in a full-length leg brace and have a regimen of drugs that even K is challenged to manage for me…antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, painkillers, blood thinners. I guess I spoke too soon in my last blog, bragging about not having swallowed any pills in over 10 years. In an effort to stay as natural as possible through all of this, I’ve been binge-eating papaya to address the challenges the epidural wreaked on my digestive tract. Ugh…
But enough of that. My kvetching is even annoying to me. The most memorable part of this unfortunate little interlude is the heartfelt support I have received from many of the people in our lives. Starting with some friends who received our plea for help dog-sitting our four-pack while they were vacationing in Mexico. Boom…they were settled into our remote jungle sanctuary in a matter of days. And our local Doctora, who checked in every day for updates and offered her sincere well wishes in every message. Then there was K’s physiotherapist from his GS wound-recovery days, who reviewed my MRI results, offered advice and post-surgery suggestions, and even visited us in San Jose for dinner with his wife. And then there was a neighbor, who grilled up a huge batch of marinated veggies for us before jumping on an international flight. And the gardener, who has checked in twice, offering to run errands or whatever else we might need. Really? And Dr. Kobayashi, who WhatsApps us every day, checking on the wound site and tweaking the drug regimen.
This isn’t our first rodeo with health emergencies, having survived four cancers together. Through those times, we learned quickly who we could rely on. People who spoke from their hearts and jumped in to help however and wherever they could. This time around, even though my bum leg is not life-threatening, I have been moved by this outpouring of kindness and love. It’s reassuring to be on the receiving end of a healthy dose of basic human compassion in the midst of all the grating dissonance of the current world we live in. From the geopolitical level down to the antics of the neighborhood Karens and wannabe HOA Gestapo. A healthy reminder to focus on what’s important in life and ignore the rest. Pura Vida…
Oh, and those lifesavers who came to dog sit? Apparently they managed to have some fun, inviting some of the locals over for a raucous pool party! And we have the pictures to prove it!
Judy Richter 
One response to “Bent, Not Broken”
Hi Judy,
I’m sorry you were injured. Will you recover? Soon, I hope.
Now, about this Dr. Kobayashi, would that be the Kobayashi Maru…from Star Trek? snarky giggle
Get well soon, Judy. You are awesome!
Very best,
Kim Eddins
Mothers create the world in which we live.
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