My Right Knee Has Started a Rebellion
In August of 2023, I stepped out of my partner’s truck and my left knee went sideways. One of those moments where you just know something isn’t right.
I did what you’re supposed to do, I saw my Nurse Practitioner, went for x-rays, and when those didn’t show much (as they often don’t with soft tissue injuries), I was sent for an MRI.
That MRI didn’t happen until April 2024, and it told a very different story (the techie explanation):
- A horizontal flap tear in the posterior horn of my medial meniscus
- Cartilage loss in the weight-bearing part of the knee (mild osteoarthritis)
- Fissuring in both the trochlear cartilage and under the kneecap
In short: not great.
Surgery followed in May 2025, my second meniscus repair on that same knee. The first was back in 2018, so this wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew the process. I knew the recovery. Or at least, I thought I did.
Because while I was recovering…my right knee decided to join the chaos.
All it took was standing up from a low stool. No dramatic fall. No big moment. Just one wrong movement and suddenly something felt off.
By August 2025, I was back at my surgeon’s office for follow up, this time using a crutch again. But for the other knee. My repaired left knee felt solid. My right knee? Not so much.
The surgeon ordered another MRI.
And then, on August 15th, everything changed.
I was walking up the three steps into our house. I led with my right leg (something I’ve replayed in my mind more times than I’d like to admit) and I felt and heard a pop that I can only describe as deeply unsettling. Not just painful…wrong.
Our doorbell camera caught it in real time.
At 11:16am, I was managing with a crutch.
At 11:17am, I could barely walk.
That’s how fast life can shift.
I went to the ER, hoping for answers or at least some relief, but was essentially told to wait, my MRI was already pending, and there wasn’t much they could do.
So I waited.
Until February 2026.
That MRI showed a lot.
The good news: all of my ligaments are intact.
The harder news: everything else.
My medial meniscus has significantly deteriorated and is now extruded—pushed out where it doesn’t belong. That “pop” I felt? That was it.
There’s also significant cartilage damage, bone spurs and my kneecap tracks slightly off to the outside due to the shape of the groove it sits in. Add a widespread thinning of cartilage, swelling and fluid, and the result is a knee that is (quite honestly) angry all the time.
This is chronic, degenerative osteoarthritis.
When I saw my surgeon on March 23, 2026, she confirmed what I already suspected: arthroscopic surgery is no longer an option.
I’ve been referred for a total knee replacement.
And this is the part people don’t always talk about.
The physical pain is one thing, but the frustration? The grief? The absolute mental load of not being able to live your life the way you want to?
That’s been the hardest part.
It’s the small things:
- Thinking twice before standing up
- Planning every movement
- Avoiding stairs like they’re a threat
- No twisting or hard stepping to catch you when you’re off-balance
- Needing help for basic life things you used to do without a second thought
It’s the loss of independence.
It’s the slowness.
It’s the constant tug-of-war between “push through” and “don’t make it worse.”
Some days, it’s honestly exhausting.
What’s helped me (and I’m still learning this in real time) is shifting out of frustration mode and into support mode for my body:
- Letting go of timelines and expectations
- Celebrating small wins (even if it’s just a slightly better day)
- Using the walker without guilt-because it gives me freedom, not limitation
- Sticking with physio + small exercises, even when progress feels painfully slow
- Focusing on what I can do instead of what I can’t
And maybe most importantly, letting myself feel frustrated without staying stuck there.
Because this is hard.
Right now, I’m in the waiting phase.
I’ve started a weight loss journey to reduce stress on my joints. I’m continuing my physio exercises. I’m resting when I need to, and being more mindful of how I move through my days.
My goals are simple, but they feel big:
I want to walk the track again.
I want to move freely around our yard to care for our ducks, chickens, quail and dogs.
I want to drive without pain.
And eventually, I’d love to get back to cycling and swimming.
Running? Not in my future. And honestly, I’m okay with that.
What I want is movement. Freedom. Ease.
I’m hopeful that this next step, a knee replacement, will give me some of that back.
So for now… we wait.
And we keep going, one careful step at a time.
Fingers crossed.
