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What Anxiety is to Me - 2

My Knee

By Madie AlessiPublished 6 years ago 9 min read
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Another pivotal moment in my life.

I used to play softball in high school, I was a first-baseman and could do everything behind the plate. But as you know, my anxiety was terrible in high school. In my sophomore year, I decided to quit. I was struggling too much with my anxiety — more specifically social anxiety. I decided I wouldn't play in the summer program or the next year. I needed to take a break to figure out my anxiety.

Well I definitely got a break from softball. In the middle of that summer, my left knee started to hurt. Thinking it was the moon cycle, my terrible luck or due to my sheer clumsiness, I thought nothing of it.

After a month, it got really bad. It was swollen and ached constantly. I mentioned it to my parents, but as previously stated I am a very clumsy human being. For some reason, I am very prone to odd injuries and they didn't take me very seriously.

Another month goes by and it's gotten worse. Yet another month and I can't stand it. I snapped at my parents and told them to take this seriously — it had been 3 months of constant pain — it was getting to the point that it was hard to walk. I had done something serious.

I go to a chiropractor who worked with athletes. I'm given a tennis ball to rub on it to work out whatever muscle is angry at me. Thanks.

The chiropractor refers me to my primary doctor. She makes the same suggestions as the chiropractor and states that she thinks I have torn my meniscus.

The doctor refers me to an orthopedic doctor who also agrees it's my meniscus. By the time that appointment took place, I could barely walk, it had been 5 months of increasingly worsening pain. I happily agreed to crutches. I couldn't touch my leg at all, it was so tender and warm and I couldn't fit into most of my pants because my knee was so swollen. I could barely make it through the day and sleep was out of the question.

I was at my wit's end. I didn't care what it was, I just wanted it to get fixed. I was told the week before Thanksgiving that I had torn my meniscus and would need lapriscopic surgery to repair it. All I needed was an MRI to confirm that my meniscus was torn. Easy peasy.

Thanksgiving was nice, I got to see all of my family and assure them that I was going to be okay, it was just a meniscus. I was supposed to get my results the next day.

The next day came and it changed my life. I go with my mom, expecting a ten minute appointment and to then schedule surgery. I was going to be better soon, right? Wrong. The doctor pulls up my MRI and starts talking about this ball. I hadn't taken anatomy yet, so I'm sitting there thinking that a meniscus is a ball in my knee. She's rumbling on and I don't really even remember what she said. She says she'll be right back and leaves us with one word I'll never forget. Sarcoma.

My mom and I sat in silence. The doctor never once said the word meniscus. What was sarcoma? It sounded scary. My mom looked it up and told me it was a rare form of cancer. I instantly started sobbing. I was going to die. I was going to leave my parents behind. I'd never hold Garrett, the love of my life, again. So much is going through my mind. I'm tailspinning. The doctor comes back. She see's that I'm crying and she starts to cry. "I have daughters your age," she says. I already think I'm going to die within the next couple of minutes and she scared me even more.

I had to go back to the waiting room to wait for an MRI opening. I needed a second MRI to get a better look at the mass. I was a high priority patient. I'm still blubbering like a lunatic when I remember I was supposed to work that night. My mom, who had remained calm the whole time says she'll call my boss for me, because I could barely talk. I hear my mom talking to him outside of the waiting room. She starts off strong and tells him I can't work tonight. She breaks down when she says our doctor's appointment went very wrong today. I still remember how that sounded. It hit her. Her only daughter had a rare form of cancer.

I was supposed to stay in Canandaigua, where the doctor's appointment was. In two hours I had an emergency MRI with contrast. My dad was coming to meet us. What were we going to do? We went to Wendy's because that's what everyone does after they find out they probably have cancer.

On the way, I realized I had to call Garrett. I had to tell him. He was waiting for my results, but he was in Nashville for Thanksgiving. He was asleep when I called. I needed to talk to him. He'd make everything okay. I needed him. I called his mom and asked to speak with him. Again, I broke down and started sobbing. I told her about the appointment and asked her to have Garrett call me when he wakes up.

We get to Wendy's and I order a Frosty. I'm sitting there when I see my dad running in. He sees me and runs over to hug me. I'm sobbing again, surprise. When thinking back, we must have looked so weird. In the middle of a Wendy's dining room. That was a hug I really needed, my dad always makes me feel safe.

We go to Joann fabrics and decide I definitely have cancer. All of the symptoms add up and the doctor told us with such severity and intensity. I was done for.

I go to my MRI and just have to wait. Happy Black Friday to me, I guess. In the week it took to get results, I was instantly depressed. I was 16-years-old and had to look death in the face. Garrett drove all the way home overnight to see me. He was here and he was my rock. I don't remember him leaving my side once. He helped me shower — I had to wear a swimsuit and use my Grandma's shower seat — and he carried me all the time.

My MRI results came back. My parents told me they're sending me to an emergency appointment with and Orthopedic Oncologist. I didn't know what that meant, but I knew it wasn't a good thing. My mom asked me why I was smiling and I realized that I was grinning from ear to ear. I wanted to prove to myself that I was okay I guess? I don't know why my body's response was to smile.

My dad drove 90 miles an hour, weaving in and out of cars to get me to the medical campus in time for my appointment. We got there and I met the amazing Wakenda Tyler, the most amazing doctor I have ever met. She looks at my MRIs and asks that I do another one. She examines my knee which, by this point, can't be touched, is always radiating heat, and I can't move at all from all of the swelling. She tells me to ice it and stay on Tylenol.

As I said, she is the most amazing doctor I know, but in that moment I was livid. Ice? Fucking ice? How was that supposed to help? I couldn't even put pants on by myself and ice was supposed to fix that?

Flash forward to my next MRI results. It's time for a biopsy. I know that can't be good, I knew what those were. By this time I have accepted that I will 'Walk To Remember' Garrett.

My biopsy was the best hour of sleep I have had in months. My knee kept me up at all hours of the night. But not with some drugs.

The biopsy relieved a lot of pressure actually. In the weeks that we waited for the biopsy results, I had just enough relief to feel a little bit more comfortable.

The biggest thing while waiting was my family. I saw who really cared. My aunt sent me a 'box of sunshine,' family friends took me to the mall to get me out of the house and laugh a little, Garrett was my couch partner, my parents answered to my every need, my Grandma cooked me all of my favorite foods, my aunt used every holistic pain relief method in the book, and all others offered unconditional love and support.

I get a call from my mom, she was on her way to class. I got my results.

I don't have cancer.

My results for cancer were negative, but the rest of the testing was incomplete.

My cousin who was helping me make dinner started crying "I held it together for you, I'm just so happy. I didn't even want to think about losing you."

To wrap it all up, they thought, at the time, that I had calcific tendonitis. I was given a steroid injection that was supposed to break up the calcification.

It didn't, but my knee got better. I went through a lot of PT, but stopped going once I could walk again, because it was expensive.

A year later, it flared up again so I went back to Dr. Tyler. It was time to take it out. Almost a year after my cancer scare I was back on crutches and in almost the same spot. We didn't know why it was flaring up and that was a cause for concern.

Then that Thanksgiving it was out. I had new friends who encouraged me to trust my knee and try walking. One of my closer friends, Victoria, tricked me into walking by baking with me one night. Thanks for that love.

Come to find out I didn't have calcific tendonitis. I had traumatic osteo —insert really fancy word that I now don't remember — that had blood vessels in it. The blood vessels were what caused it to be so painful and the trauma was most likely from softball and just went undetected.

As traumatic as the whole experience was, I am so happy it happened. There is no better way to appreciate life than when you think it's going to be over soon.

My knee still aches and gets sore a lot, but it's much better than having cancer or being dead, so I'll take it.

I have a lot of survivor's guilt from my knee. I escaped cancer, the almost inescapable disease that has already taken so many from us. Why was I spared over everyone else who has battled cancer? What makes me so special?

I also always feel like next time I won't be so lucky. That a second mass will have been found and the cancer will win this time. Every time I get a migraine I worry, every time my knee hurts, I worry that this time it's sarcoma coming to get me.

But that's for me to keep working on and in the meantime I have to be thankful for what did happen and appreciate the life I am living.

anxiety
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