Validation

 When I was in middle school, I injured my knee. My parents can’t remember the initial injury. We can’t remember my exact age. What we can remember, is that that injury would be the catalyst for a decades long life of pain. 

In high school, I ended up in physical therapy for at least 2 out of 4 years. In college, I would find myself in another 12-15 weeks of PT for a mysterious injury of my knee. 

Post college, I did what I could, living with the pain, despite my many prayers for healing. Eventually, I just learned to deal with the pain and did my best to ignore the constant dislocations, swelling, and discomfort. I was able to live semi-normally, working out, and enjoying life. 

All that changed 10 years ago. I started working more physically demanding jobs, and it led to pain that soon couldn’t be ignored. For the first few years, I would go to urgent cares and ERs, begging for MRIs and answers. I would be told the same thing, over and over again. 

“It’s bursitis” “you need to lose weight” “it’s because you’re a female” “you just have weak knees” or, my personal favorite “it’s the relaxin hormone from your pregnancy” 

Dislocations. Swelling. Endless pain. The inability to enjoy a simple walk from one end of the house to the other… I KNEW there was something more going on, yet none of the providers I had seen cared to dig deeper. They dismissed me. Time and time again, eventually I believed the pain was all in my head. That it wasn’t real. That I was being medically gaslit into believing that what I could PHYSICALLY feel and see was somehow not reality. 

Over the last five years, it would be nothing for me to simply stand and watch, hear, and feel my knee dislocate. 

Strangers would comment in public that that wasn’t normal, but my providers dismissed me over and over again to the point that I truly believed it was normal. That nothing could be done. 

Four years ago, I stopped bothering providers about my knee pain. Once again, I just taught myself to ignore the pain because, after all, it was just due to my weight, right? 

Last year, the pain became unbearable and I asked for a referral to ortho. Somehow, between the two offices, the referral was lost and after a few weeks of back and forth, I just stopped fighting. I had nothing left to give. At that point in my life, I truly believed that this pain, this inability to enjoy my life, would just be my life forever. 

In September of this year, I was walking. Just walking. I felt that all too familiar snap, heard that all too familiar pop, and knew…. I just KNEW the dislocation was coming. 

This one took what felt like forever to realign. It was probably seconds, but those seconds felt like torturous hours. I blinked back tears and immediately tried to catch myself from falling- knowing it would all be over soon. 

A week later, the swelling hadn’t subsided and bruising showed up. It took Jon 7 days and 15 hours to convince me to get it checked out. I told him it was nothing. It’s always nothing. It would always be nothing.

We sat for four hours in the ER, waiting for X-rays and tests and I knew in my heart, they were going to say it was nothing. 

“Nothing is broken. We see some arthritis. Please follow up with your primary and ortho” 

Same things I’ve heard for years. I felt my heart drop, and just knew I was going to be dismissed, again. 

The NP at the ER apologized for what she was about to do- and before I could wonder, I felt it. I might have screamed, I honestly don’t remember. My pain was real and she apologized again. After giving me some pain relief, we were sent home. 

The next morning, I called to see my PCP and to make an appt with orthopedics. The day after, I met with my PCP. She said she wasn’t an expert in ortho, but that I would likely just need some PT, and left me in the capable hands of orthopedics. 

That weekend, I reached out to my nurse friends and … well, as comforting as they were (and are!) none of them worked ortho. So, I started researching anything and everything that could be related to knee dislocations. 

I settled on the patella ligament and decided for myself that I must have torn it. A few days later, I finally met with Dr B. 

I shared with him my history, my recent “injury”, and that due to years of being dismissed, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was about to tell me the same thing. He gently asked if he could run some tests on my knee- and admitted that I’d likely have some discomfort. 

After just 3 minutes, he sat back in his chair and asked me if I had heard of the MPFL. I shook my head, and he started explaining it to me. I realized in that moment that my self diagnosis was basically spot on. 

He looked at me and said he was sending me for an MRI to confirm the diagnosis, but also to make sure I didn’t have bone shards or cartilage loss or anything else going on. 

That day, I left the office crying, for a completely different reason than pain. After 20+ years of non stop pain, swelling, and providers telling me nothing was wrong, I had been validated. Heard. My pain was real. My injury was real. Someone heard me. Saw me. Was determined to fix me. 

My MRI confirmed Dr B’s diagnosis. I sent the MRI to my nurse friends and asked them to help me understand what I was reading. When I exhausted their education, I set myself on rabbit hole of Google searches and papers and procedures. 

My not real injury? Required surgery. 

My “lose some weight” problem? Couldn’t be fixed by working out (that probably would make it worse) 

Surgery was the only fix. 

I met with a PA and she explained what the MRI showed - not a full tear, but a tiny baby tear. However, the MPFL is like a rubber band and mine had lost all snap. She detailed the surgery with me and explained recovery. I asked to meet with the surgeon prior to the surgery so we set that appointment up 

I met Dr G last week. He showed me my images. He told me how “impressive” (not in a good way) my kneecap and my MPFL were. 

Yall, my kneecap isn’t even balancing on my knee. It’s completely off centered and has been for a while. He estimated it’s been 2 years, maybe more. 

Dr G asked me how I’ve been walking. How was I even living? The pain must be unimaginable. 

For the millionth time in the last month, I burst into tears. Why? Because I had been medically gaslit for YEARS that my pain, my injury, my cries were all in my head. 

In 20 years, this was the first time I’ve ever received an MRI for my knee. The first one. Imagine, if I had been sent for an MRI 10 years ago, when the dislocations started back up? 

Validation. 

Dr G walked me through the surgery again. He listened patiently as I peppered him with questions from my research, questions about his ability as a surgeon, and questions about recovery. 

He answered with confidence, compassion, and kindness. 

“The recovery will not be easy. When you start PT, you will hate everyone and everything on this earth.” 

“Dr G, that’s a risk I’m willing to take, if you can fix this” 

He laughed, and told me I’d be just fine. 

So that brings me to today. Today I have pre-op. Actually, in a few hours I have pre-op. When I should be sleeping, I’m up writing this. 

I need to document this. If nothing else, for myself. So that on the hard days, I can return to this and remember. 

I’ve been validated. I’ve been heard. I will get through this.