Almost 3 years ago now, I spent my last day without pain. I was coming off the high of the biggest win of a national tournament thus far, and I couldn’t wait to play against the top 16 teams in the country the following day. As I muttered under my breath to my roommate for the trip “I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow morning in pain,” I knew something was very wrong.
I played, but it was and never will be the same way it was only 12 hours before.
Weak and helpless. Two words that defined how I felt for 6 months without a diagnosis. Two feelings that I have constantly and consistently felt for the last three years. But two words that my doctor has never made me feel.
With a blind referral and a three hour wait time, I knew that somehow I had gotten lucky–clearly a contradiction from what I just described. That is because in the years to come, my doctor would provide more than just excellent treatment. He provided options and suggestions that no Dr. Google could ever recommend, and in one of the largest medical cities in the country, I found myself beginning treatment for an articular cartilage defect at 16 years old.
Articulating My Articular Cartilage 