Last week I was readily awaiting Saturday's arrival, for not only was it the beginning of a long weekend (celebrating the death of San Martín, the Argentine equivalent of George Washington for all you Yankees out there), but also the commencement of a Frisbee hat tournament! For those of you who don't know, a hat tournament is just what it sounds like: a tournament full of teams picked out of a hat. While that's not exactly how it works, the spirit behind it is to mix up friends and foes for one weekend and strengthen the Frisbee community as a whole. Plus, there are some sweet prizes to be won, so the competitive aspect is also not lacking. I even slept at Nick's apartment so I wouldn't have to wake up so early since the tournament was held in Parque Sarmiento, more than an hour bus ride from San Telmo.
The park, which is in a part of town, as Stefanie observed, that looks more like you expect South America to look (read: non-European), is a massive complex that houses dozens of athletic fields. Our rag-tag group of players occupied two od these fields, and even though we killed our bodies the night before, Nick, Alex (a relatively new addition to the Cadillacs, his father is Argentine but he grew up outside of DC) and I were some of the first to arrive and we immediately started to help the others set up. An innocent enough process, one would think, but during the first twenty minutes or so I managed to tweak my knee. I have no idea what I did, there was no noticeable moment of injury, I heard no pop or anything else of the sort. Rather, it was a slow realization that my knee felt really weird and that it actually hurt quite a bit. I proceeded to test it out a bit further, but apparently it was not in the cards for me to play. I couldn't straighten my right leg, and when I got close to doing so, I could see and feel a little bulge right below my knee cap that clearly was not supposed to be there. So my wheels stopped working before I could even enter the fray, and I left the tournament feeling let down and in pain.
My knee has felt better as the week has progressed, but I was still experiencing a bit of discomfort so I finally caved and went to the doctor. After not as much waiting as I thought, I saw a doctor who diagnosed me with an inflamed meniscus, and that if my knee continues to improve as it has since Saturday, it will heal on its own after enough rest. But if it gets worse, I must go back for X-Rays, something I'm looking to avoid at all costs because I'm scared of what they'll tell me. See, that's why I don't like going to the doctor: either they tell me something I already know (I have to rest my knee for a while), or they tell me something I don't want to hear (you need a new knee, or something of the like). But no matter which way I look at the situation, it's bad news bears all around. Let's just hope it keeps getting better.
Also, I'm hoping that since I brought up the subject of knees again, Austin will reemerge from whatever hole he's dug himself into and post a 2 paragraph comment on the blog. The over-under is 12.5 lines.
Friday, August 21, 2009
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I've been meaning to e-mail you all week, but I've been buried under work. Belu told me that each public hospital has different specialties and that there's surely one that specializes in orthopedics. We just need to figure out which one it is and you should be able to go for free. Unless that's the one you already went to, then you can ignore what you've already read here.
Anyway, I was thinking that it is probably OK, and the doc's diagnosis is probably correct. Still, you should get an x-ray. You don't want to end up like me...
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