Letter to my Right Knee.
Oh, right knee. You have served me so well over the past 39 years. You were there for me when I took my first tumble off my Big Wheel. Yes, I was a fat child who should not have been on a Big Wheel in the first place, but you didn't care, Right Knee. All you knew was that I was having fun, until Mitchell Hellman tripped up my ride with a big branch and I fell. Oh the scrape was horrible, do you remember, Right Knee? But you were brave, through the neosporin, the sting of the Bactine and Esther dumping half a bottle of rubbing alcohol on you. Me? I was not so brave. I screamed. I cried. I might have even shit my pants. But not you, Right Knee, you were strong.
Then remember? That summer in sleepaway camp, Right Knee? We were jumping on the trampoline, just you...me...and Left Knee. Oh, the fun we had! Jump. Jump. Jump. It was before I developed breasts that would knock my eyes out, Right Knee. Before my ass was TOO big to get onto a trampoline, let alone jump on it. Then, remember seeing HIM? That boy? Scott Raifer was his name. He was blonde. Blue eyed. He picked his nose. But oh, how we adored him from afar, didn't we, Right Knee? So much so, that his mere presence distracted Left Knee and we took a spill right off the trampoline. We landed on Skull, remember? Skull wasn't very happy with us, Right Knee. Skull needed stitches. And, Right Middle Finger was pissed off as well. She got caught in the trampoline springs. But, you, Right Knee? You were the one who lifted me up. You were the only strength I had, Right Knee! You helped me to rise, just in time to see my entire camp group of kids pointing and laughing at the "big girl who fell offa da trampoleeeeeeeen!!!" But we didn't care, did we, Right Knee? Yes, Pride was wounded as well. Ego was a tad fucked up too. But we made the long walk to the infirmary. Just you, me and Left Knee.
Then, there was that first blow job. Oh, Right Knee. I was so proud of you for tolerating the carpet burn the way you did. Such a trooper.
But enough about that, Right Knee. I just wanted to say, thank you. Thank you for putting up with the weight of the world, me, for all these years. You have been loyal, faithful and despite being a bit on the knobby side? I'd never dream of replacing you. Tomorrow is your big day, Right Knee. The weeks of agony and torture will finally be over. Left Knee will no longer be the favored knee. You will reclaim your rightful throne as my favorite knee.
I am so sorry that I hurt you, Right Knee. I know you were squatting down on the ground, taking so much pressure on! You are wonderful for handling that. But, I suppose it all got to be too much. You did the best you could, before finally giving out. No one else was there for you, Right Knee. Not even Left Knee. I know the popping, cracking and creaking the past 3 weeks has been keeping you awake at night. I haven't slept either. I feel your pain.
No. Truly. I do.
Anyway, Right Knee, I just wanted to wish you luck tomorrow. And, if you are good, really good tomorrow, I promise. I will have you moving, running, walking and participating in doggy-style in no time at all. I'm here for you, Right Knee. Be strong. Be brave.
I'll see you after surgery.
Love 'til a knee replacement does us part,