Yeah, I know -- haven't blogged or vomitted forth wisdom here in a bit.
So, I'm playing pickup at lunchtime last Monday -- I believe in getting the work week off to a positive start -- and there's only five of us on a full sheet of ice. We're having a fun 2-on-3 game when a dude manages to wipe out and go shoulder first into the outside of my right knee.
Ouchies! A few minutes later, I'm sliding off the ice on my ass and soon am enroute to the Huntington Hospital ER in Pasadena where I'm pretty much the only gimp and everyone else looked like they were suffering from some advanced case of Ebola.
Anyway, I'm still limping around one week later and above is my MRI. The follow-up with the sawbones isn't for a few more days, meaning I'll spend the rest of the afternoon drinking beer and trying to self-diagnose by comparing my MRI results to pics found on Google Images.
Of course, the outcome doesn't really matter. I'm only 46 years old and I'm not quitting hockey 'cause of a stupid knee injury. Either I'll be back sooner or I'll suffer a bit and be back later. But I'll be back. After all, I have a scoring drought to extend and my team is fighting for the eighth and last seed for the fall season playoffs. So quitting now would be quite pussy-ish, right?
--S.H.
