Gently-used? No way.

I feel like I am getting old. Sometimes my knees don’t cooperate like I feel they should. They ache and groan when I do things like gardening or helping my parents clean out their garage. They’re noisy, for sure. I can’t remember my joints popping so much in my life.
It can’t help that I still sit with my legs curled up under me 80% of the time. Almost always at work – at least one leg (usually the left), is in the chair with me, not on the floor where it belongs. Even now, I’ve just realized, I’m tucked up Indian-style [cross-legged, is that what they’re calling it these days?] in my office chair typing away as the left knee cap reminds me that youth is fading.
Most of my life has been spent with my left knee curled up under me. It started after an injury in elementary school from jumping off a cliff in the bayou behind our house. [That was the best house to grow up in in the whole wide world.] Landing in mud is not good for your joints, I learned that one day in the first grade. Or was it second?
It was second for sure.
A cyst developed behind my knee and felt like it lasted for ages. I remember the front of my knee being swollen and the doctor recommending I take three or more ibuprofen a day. As a seven or eight year old. Three plus. It’s no wonder my stomach can’t handle ibuprofen today. After that began to heal, I started pulling my leg up under me and it became a habit apparently, despite being fussed at by the doctors. Oh well, we’re bound to age eventually.
My left knee seems to be on the direct express.


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