If I Have a Acl Tear Should I Practice Martial Arts
As if there weren't enough curveballs from the year 2020…
We've all figuratively had our legs knocked out from under us this year.
Last Thursday it happened to me literally.
The Incident
And so at that place I was in taekwondo grade, minding my ain business and enjoying kick a hanging pocketbook. I was feeling potent and happy. I was getting my calluses on my feet dorsum from finally getting to slide around unabated on the mats and starting to become my strength dorsum after three months of modified abode workouts. Information technology was ii days afterward my forty-beginning birthday, and I was feeling fit, strong, and hopeful.
After a warm up, another black belt and I started kicking the hanging bags with regular roundhouse kicks, then defensive back kicks. No problem. So we moved on to a combination: 360 roundhouse kick followed by a "double kick," which is a roundhouse kick followed immediately by a roundhouse on the other leg, which requires a little hop. It's seen in mod Olympic manner taekwondo sparring. This is not the same as the more quondam school "double roundhouse," which is boot a low and so high roundhouse with the aforementioned leg, unremarkably coming from the dorsum pes.
We started on the right side, which is usually my worse side for 360, but I actually did a pretty proficient job. I felt good, stiff, and confident. Information technology was fun and something I'd never tried before on a pocketbook.
Later on five rounds of the 360-double boot combination, we switched to the left side (360 with the left foot, followed by a right-then-left double kick). Cool, this was going to be expert. My left foot 360, like about of my jumping kicks, is better than the right because my left leg is much stronger for launching into jumps. I was excited to effort out the new combination on my better side.
Plop. Thwunk. Ugh.
My first endeavour sucked. What a terrible 360! My hip wasn't fifty-fifty turned. Maybe it was just a fluke.
I tin can't remember if it was the second or third endeavor when my evening went awry. One moment I was staring glumly at my left foot, which was weakly tapping the purse at an wrong angle from a poorly executed 360, and the side by side I was on the floor screaming later feeling a horrible pop on the side of my right knee and involuntarily collapsing to the ground.
"Are you OK?" ane of my instructors asked.
"No." Breathing hard through my mask (required right now), I clutched my injured right leg and delicately aptitude it back and along to try to straighten it, which it did not desire to practise.
It'south very rare for me to say I'm not okay in taekwondo. I'grand pretty tough when it comes to injuries (they're par for the course, even without sparring) and pretty stubborn (and sometimes ignorant) nigh seeking professional treatment. Mayhap I could just ice this and take ibuprofen for a few days. I'd exist fine.
I wasn't fine.
The initial hurting, equally sickeningly dreadful as it was, lessened fairly quickly, and I was able to finally straighten my leg and hobble around. Once the immediate crunch was over and I was sitting on a mat, icing my knee, and debating whether to go to the ER or not, I was bellyaching. I was only getting expert at 360, specially on my left side. Not only was it a poorly executed kicking on my favored side, just it was so wispy and weak that the dramatic and very painful result was an even bigger insult. It wasn't similar my right leg twisted at an unnatural angle or I landed too hard or anything. I basically took a step. A freaking step.
Why couldn't my one bad blowout take happened during something cool, like a double flying snap kick board break or spring spin kicking a alpine sparring partner in the face? (I take done one of those things, and my knee was just fine.)
Nope—here's what happened. Turn, tiny plod of a hop—AAAHHHH!!!
This is some bullsh…
I don't know whether to laugh or cry that it happened so quickly later my 40-outset birthday.
The Assessment
The night of my injury I was able to drive myself to a nearby free-standing ER (like an urgent care clinic, but y'all get a infirmary ER-sized neb). There I was gently examined, X-rayed, given a tight brace, some high dosed ibuprofen, and a referral to an orthopedic medico who happened to exist in the aforementioned clinic where I'd been treated for my hamstring problem a few years ago. In that location wasn't much they could do beyond that. The 10-ray showed no problems.
A few days later I was being examined by the said referred orthopedic doctor who seemed to take quite a lot of experience in sports medicine and injuries similar mine. (Once once again, their X-ray, that I'm sure I'll be billed for separately, showed no problems.) He gently kneaded my leg similar he was prepping a slice of chicken for dinner. He suspected an ACL tear (tear to the inductive cruciate ligament of the genu) and patted my foot when my eyes widened (over my hospital-issued mask) with business concern. He kindly assured me we would come up with a "game program" equally shortly as he knew what was going on.
And so he ordered a "STAT" MRI, and I was hobbling to my car in my new heavier simply more mobile caryatid, and driving a mile or ii from the hospital to a small outpatient imaging center. STAT? Yikes!
The MRI
I've never had an MRI before and have been too scared in the past to do it with previous (and much less serious) injuries. This time I wanted to know what was going on and was wiling to practise whatever it took to become an answer and a "game plan." Only MRI machines are still intimidating and creepy.
When it was finally my turn to get in the big tube, I felt like a doll wrapped in protective packaging. My right knee was gently locked into a thick white padded circle, and I had a pillow at my head and feet. Get your Melanie activity figure! Human knee brace and sparkly iPhone not included! I'm not what i would classify equally "claustrophobic," merely I was very pleased they left my lilliputian caput sticking out of the machine. The tech put headphones over my ears after I requested classic rock to listen to during the procedure. Seconds later, "Bad Moon Rising" past Creedence Clearwater Revival romped into my ears.
"Looks like we're in for nasty weather…1 eye is taken for an center.."
Nasty conditions, indeed. This unabridged bizarre, awful yr has been a bad moon rising.
I smirked, settled in for some expert music when—
WAAHHWAHHWAHHWAHHWAHH!!
NUHNUHNUHNUHNUHNUHNUH!!
I felt my chest jerk with a kickoff and whispered "OH SH-T!" at the kickoff blarings from the MRI car. That sucker was loud. I chuckled silently, screwed my eyes shut, and tried to breathe deeply and hold still while my heart was pounding, and sweat was starting to form under my back. I kept my paw resting lightly on the footling ball they gave me to squeeze if I started freaking out.
Ah. A moment of silence. Breathe…More music…
"You tin't hiiiide your lyin'—"
BWAAHHHDADADADADADADA!!!
Ugh, it was then unsettling and loud. Maybe I could pretend I was listening to the world'southward loudest tattoo machine. I like tattoos. Getting a tattoo is oddly relaxing, like going to the dentist. I could find some way to chillax in this terrifying 2001 Space Odyssey monstrosity.
Oh good, more music.
"Lovin' yous isnt the riiight affair to—"
NUHNUHNUHNUHNUHNUHNUH!! REHREHREHREHREHREHREHREH!!
Later on nigh x to fifteen minutes of a few enjoyable snippets of the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac amidst the bullet-fast F5 wailing of the MRI, I was done. I carefully drove habitation and poured a behemothic glass of Chardonnay.
The Verdict
Three days afterwards I was back in the orthopedic dispensary looking at myself on the large screen…no, not me starring in the movie adaptation of my memoir, but rather black and white images of my legs. On the right, a pristine X-ray of my femurs, patellas, and nice tibias. On the left, a mish-mash of dissimilar MRI images that looked like a sliced spiral ham.
The dr. came in and explained every bit he clicked through the images that I had (equally he suspected) a partial ACL tear, a bone trample where the femur and tibia smacked together (lovely), and another random sprained (but not torn) ligament that was causing some fluid buildup and achy swelling in my knee. He grabbed a plastic model of the knee and showed me exactly what was going on. The other ligament would heal on its own.
The inductive cruciate ligament wouldn't.
"I'thousand not surprised. Taekwondo's difficult on the trunk," I said with a chuckle.
The the physician squatted depression on a stool, his pants riding upward over his cowboy boots (it was casual Friday in the office), and looked me straight in the eyes while nosotros had a long talk virtually treatment options. I've gotten used to doctors flitting in and out of exam rooms and so I was actually a little unnerved past this guy being and so courtly and leisurely, as if he had all 24-hour interval to chat with me.
After a long talk and questions from both sides, nosotros agreed on ACL repair and aggressive physical therapy for about six to eight months post-obit surgery. He was familiar with taekwondo injuries, having treated my people in the past (and treating people at my same activity level and age in the past), and I was happy that, despite my "age," he treated me like an athlete who wants to get back into action and fettle, not an erstwhile lady with a bum knee.
Afterwards a flurry of phone calls, I was scheduled for a lower extremity assessment (motion-capturing done for athletes then the physician tin can appraise initial mobility and monitor over time), the surgery itself, and my first physical therapy engagement. Meanwhile I was back at abode hacking away furiously on my work laptop trying to accept care of business and prepare for existence out for a week.
How I Feel About It…
Not getting surgery was not an option for me. I have been walking, jumping, running, and kicking on an injured knee for the concluding iii years, and living with a at present-actually-bad injury that would become more and more debilitating over time is not acceptable. I'k not afraid of surgery. I'm actually looking forward to having a fully functioning knee over again.
I'k willing to exercise the hard work to heal and get my strength dorsum, and one time once more, I'll be paired with "Cody," my wise-peachy physical therapist from past injuries who was so practiced and so funny he got 2 full chapters of "airtime" in my upcoming memoir. I look at information technology as high-quality personal training that my health insurance is paying for…partially.
As for taekwondo…it hasn't quite hit me that I may non exist able to participate in a taekwondo course for several months, maybe fifty-fifty up to a year. Once that reality hits me, my middle is going to injure. I might fifty-fifty cry a little. I can practice at home in very careful, express ways. There will still take to be a lot of re-building and re-training earlier I tin fifty-fifty think about testing for third dan, which I'd hoped to do at the stop of this year.
Taekwondo is what helped me plow my life effectually and find happiness. I can't lose information technology.
I won't.
Stay tuned for my upcoming book– "Kicking and Screaming: a Memoir of Madness and Martial Arts" published by She Writes Printing. Coming to a bookseller well-nigh you April 20, 2021!
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Source: https://littleblackbelt.com/2020/07/18/pop-goes-my-acl/
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