I sat at the table’s edge adorn in those lovely paper shorts supplied by the doctor’s office. My surgeon scrolled back and forth through the MRI, showing me various areas of damage in my knee.
“I don’t know what the heck you did to your knee, but it’s bad. Really bad,” he said as he pointed out my missing ACL (it disintegrated after the tear) and medial meniscus tear that spanned from my medial condyle straight to the middle of my knee.
As he went over surgery options a single thing weighed on my mind. I couldn’t fathom the compounding impact of knee surgery on my life and career at the moment. It was too much to wrap my head around.
“Okay, so you’re saying I shouldn’t do the Spartan Race this weekend?” I blurted out my primary concern as he discussed the difference between my joint repair options.
He looked at me with a deadpan face, crossed his arms and said, “Is it paying your mortgage for the next three...