Well, crap. We knew it was coming sometime, but . . .

It still sucks when it comes around and smacks you in your face.

The Husband has an interesting condition. The bones in his kneecaps never fused like they're supposed to when you grow up - so he has a three-piece kneecap instead of a normal one-piece adult kneecap. This caused his knee to never quite align up with the other leg bones. Over time, he developed what is known as Bi-Patello-Femoral Syndrome - a condition that is often seen in runners - which has rapidly progressed towards full-on Chrondromalacia Patellae as he has little to no cartilage remaining in either knee. This results in bone-on bone contact occurring whenever he walks. It is especially painful whenever he gets up from a sitting position, as his kneecap can actually slide down the shin bone and has to physically be moved up into place in order for his knee to bend. And moving it back up is extremely painful. Not my idea of fun, let me tell you.

The condition reared its ugly head for the first time when The Husband was in the Navy on submarines. It seems that steel decks don't have any give unlike concrete or asphalt and on his second cruise at sea, his knees registered their opinion on the matter, swelling to the size of softballs. He was in constant pain but could only take 800mg of Motrin due to the restrictions of medication on board ships. When they got back after that cruise, he dutifully reported to the doctors to see what was up with the whole thing. When they took x-rays of his knees, they actually started questioning if he had signed up for the Navy while still underaged because his knees looked like those of a 12- or 13-year-old's due to them not being fused yet.

Once they got over their startlement and accusations, they started talking surgery. However The Husband ixnayed that when the Navy surgeon came in to examine the knee that was the worst (the left) and started talking about how he was going to make the cuts on the RIGHT knee. No way, no how was he going to be someone's guinea pig. So instead of surgery, the Navy offered him either a desk job at the drydock in Connecticut or an honorable discharge and a 5% disability. Since he'd been to war for his country (first Iraqi conflict), The Husband took his Honorable but not the disability and ran. Straight into my loving arms. Well, not quite, but close. That's another story for another day.

Anyway, back to the present. Or relatively near present.

Over the years, the knees have gotten progressively worse. They would flare up when he did heavy work, especially in the winter. I've gotten very, very good at giving knee massages as a result. Very sexy. I have begged and pleaded with him to PLEASE go to another doctor the whole way. But seeing as how he has an aversion to actually going to the doctor (he'd rather be shot), my words fell on deaf ears.

But on Monday, the straw that broke the camel's back (knees?) happened. He was working on his tank (steel deck again, anyone?) and stepped wrong, causing his left knee to wrench sideways. Instant pain, instant inflammation, instant limping.

His crew chief was less than sympathetic. It seems the chief, although being a good friend of ours, thinks that The Husband "gets injured" every time a big job is to be done. Hrm. Let's see. The LAST time The Husband got injured (over a year and a half ago) it was because he was attempting to keep a several hundred pound piece of equipment from falling to the ground from a height of about 8 feet. Said fall would have smashed the equipment into smithereens, and seeing as how said equipment is literally irreplaceable, The Husband considered a torn rotator cuff a worthy sacrifice, and so did crew chief at the time.

Oh, and at that time crew chief was recovering himself from emergency back surgery that took care of two discs in his spine that had disintegrated and were about ready to snap him in two and paralyze him for life. And that The Husband had literally bludgeoned the crew chief into making an appointment to look into his back pain because he was worried about him. Guess unintentional injuries are really "planned" or "faked," right? Ass. He's not getting Christmas cookies this year at all.

After he told me what had happened, I begged and pleaded with The Husband to finally go to the doctor. He could even go see the nice orthopedist that saw Thing Two for her arm the last two weeks. I about fainted when he said for me to call and make the appointment.

Well, I made the appointment and he went today. I didn't go because he said, and I quote, that "it would be easier to lie to you (me) if you (I) didn't go." I just had to sigh over that. He's gotten so good at lying about how much pain he's in and how bad his knees actually are over the years even though I know about it, that this is just par for the course.

He just called me on the phone, crying because the dreaded word has come up again. Surgery. He needs to have arthroscopic surgery on both knees. Because if he doesn't so the doctor can shave away some parts of the kneecap that are going bone on bone, he is "not going to be able to walk his daughter down the aisle at her wedding because he will be in a wheelchair." Somehow I don't think he's lying anymore about all of this.

This surgery won't be the end of it. It's only buying him time before both knees have to be replaced. If The Husband complies with the doctor's orders to immediately stop doing high-impact activities and goes through with the surgery, he will probably have about 15-20 years on the knees he currently has. If he continues the work he's been doing, he will get perhaps 1-2 years before full-on failure occurs. But no matter what, his knees will at some point end up being made of cobalt.

This is going to be a huge change for him. He's not going to like it. But in a way, it's been needed for a while. He hasn't been happy at his job lately because of crew chief's souring attitude - and just a year ago they were the happiest, most respected and envied crew on the range because of their camaraderie and expertise. Things needed to change, and this is giving him a valid reason to change besides "I'm just not happy."

So please, say a prayer (or swing chickens) for my wonderful husband. It's going to be hard, but I know that between him and me we can get through this.