I will always remember 2023 as one of the rougher years of my life. My mother passed away after a prolonged illness and I had knee-replacement surgery within a two-month period.
I discovered running when I was 43, which is also when I met my wife Esther. She was training for a marathon, and the combined physical and mental challenge intrigued me. It also took a toll. Fifteen years, 14 marathons, and one arthroscopic surgery later and I was sitting with the orthopedic surgeon discussing the next step. He told me that my knee had a max of two years before I needed knee replacement surgery.
I didn’t think I looked that bad — I was the only one. I was a big white-haired guy dragging 260 pounds on a 5-foot-10 frame. Commuters were offering me their seats on the subway. I asked Esther, “Do I really look that bad?”
She replied, “We’ll you have white hair, are overweight, and are limping on both legs.”
Life snuck up on me. When did I become an old man? The signs were there, but I ignored them. I didn’t have the energy I had five years ago, and limping around on two bad knees at Mom’s funeral reinforced how much I needed to take care of this.
The surgery scared me. I had my knee scoped six years earlier, and it didn’t heal the way I thought it would. I worried about rehabbing a new knee at 59. To assist with my recovery; the doctor recommended leasing a Game Ready machine.
This 1-foot-x-2-foot red and black rectangular box had an ice compartment on one side and a hose attached to a wrap that velcroed around my leg from mid-thigh to the ankle, on the other. It was a cold therapy device that helped to reduce the pain and swelling. It was a godsend once I started physical therapy.
The Game Ready Machine, the cold air felt so good after PT. — Photo by Author
Surgery didn’t go as planned. The procedure was done quickly, and I was home at 3 pm the same day. A few hours later, the sutures popped, and my dressing was dripping blood, which meant an overnight stay in the hospital so they could stitch me up correctly. Adding insult to injury, the medical assistant who discharged me thought Esther was my daughter.
The first days of recovery were eye-opening. I spent the first two days in an anesthesia-induced haze asking for help to lift my leg so I could ice my knee.
Father’s Day was five days after the surgery, and I celebrated by walking to the corner and back with a cane. I felt good about my progress, but taking oxycodone for five straight days had an effect that I didn’t anticipate — constipation.
Esther invited her brother Bobby and her nephews over for Father’s Day dinner. When Bobby called asking if he could bring something, my request surprised him. So, while the family chowed down on Esther’s killer ribs, I downed bowl after bowl of raisin bran, chased with prune juice.
My son Cristian and me taking a selfie while I iced my knee — Photo by Author
A few days later, my shoes didn’t fit because my calf and foot swelled. I searched the house for a pair of sandals until Esther picked up a pair of slip-on Skechers, which paired nicely with the shorts and black knee-high compression socks; I looked like I came off a shuffleboard court in a Florida retirement home.
I started PT and loved the activity, but at the beginning, I got the sense that they took it easy on the fat white-haired guy because they were afraid my sutures would pop again. I was tired, cranky, and couldn't find a comfortable position to sleep at night. I nodded off a lot during the Game Ready icing sessions.
I established a rhythm of going to PT three days a week and doing exercises at home the other four. Rehabbing my knee gave me a sense of purpose. I established a daily cycle of waking up, icing my knee, walking around the block, icing my knee, doing PT, icing again, walking a little more, and icing again. I also had periodic follow-ups with the doctor to make sure my knee was gaining more strength and flexibility, and worried about what would happen if it didn’t.
Surgery killed our vacation plans, but I did indulge in a few guilty pleasures. I read and streamed The Sopranos and Band of Brothers from start to finish. I also watched a lot of YouTube videos. I discovered Trek Trendy and Downeylive, two travel-based content creators.
Esther and I loved their travel videos, and we discovered that traveling through the Rocky Mountains by train was a Bucket List item for both of us. So, we booked a trip from Chicago to San Francisco during the holiday season. It gave me something to look forward to while rehabbing my knee.
Cristian provided moral support while I did my stretches at home. Photo Esther Priegue
Last summer and fall, I spent a lot of time in an empty house while Esther was at work and Cristian was at school. It gave me lots of time to think. I made peace with Mom’s passing; it was tougher than I expected. When Dad passed away, we focused our attention on her. Now they are both gone. I realize as my 60th birthday approaches rapidly that I’m entering the third act of my life.
The last 10 years of my life have been rough ones. I have a new knee, freshly painted hair, and the aches and pains of 50-plus years of life. I don’t regret getting older; it’s a privilege that was denied to too many friends and loved ones. I can’t control aging; time catches up to all of us; however, being old is a choice.
I’m not ready to fold up my tent and go home, there are still too many good years ahead.
