D is for Disappointed.

Today was D-Day. As I mentioned yesterday, I named it such because it was doctor day. Now that D-Day is gone, I know that the D actually stands for disappointed, not doctor.

The day started well, or at least per plan. All week, I've been walking a fine line between demonstrating how bad my knees are and not being in the worst pain of my life. The plan worked out pretty well, especially thanks to the thunderstorm awakening. Prior to seeing the doctor, I got my peds cured as I didn't want the doctor to have to suffer my deteriorated pedicure. It was the fastest pedicure of my life. I suspect that the quality is not so high.

After navigating the under-construction parking lot, hectic building and initial x-rays, I finally was brought to the exam room. After demonstrating my knee pop roughly 20 times per knee to a med student, a resident, a fellow and two doctors, it was determined that I have unusually loose kneecaps. They are the culprits, not a ligament or tendon as I thought. And, now, I get to wear some oh-so-attractive knee braces for at least a month to see if that will help. At best it looks like I'm wearing leggings, at worst, knee pads. In fact, I had a woman ask me if they were making me do a lot of work on my knees. I'm sure she meant that in the best way possible. Failing the success of the braces, its a rather painful sounding surgery (involving cutting my shin bone) to re-align my knee caps.

On the plus side, I got to drown my disappointment at a sparkling wine tasting with the girls. We tasted prosecco, cava, some Tasmanian sparkling, an Austrian, a French and finished with rose. As it turns out, my heart and liver still belongs to prosecco.