Pansy's Manned Up Kayak Wreck

I had arthroscopic knee surgery on 1/11/08 and have been high as a kite since then. Someone I know asked me for the details behind how I hurt my knee and said "make it PG rated." What kind of stupid fucking half-assed request is that!? PG rated!? Pansy don't play THAT game, ya idjits! But I attempted to be cooperative (obviously must have been high on crack that day). I was going to unclean it up here but decided you can all just suffer with the "pg" version, too. Actually, it is a PG rated incident. To re-tell the story, however, is painful for me unless I throw in some terrible language. So imagine that many of the words are "f__ing" (see? pretending to be PG right there!) and you will get the drift of how annoying this incident was then as well as in the intervening years since my bad knee has "popped out" at least twice a year since the original injury.

HOW TO BE A PANSY AND WRECK YOUR KNEE WITH YOUR KAYAK LIKE A REAL MAN:

1) I was hauling my F__ racing kayak back upstream in about July 1997 to go back through some F__ rapids;

2) my F__ right leg slipped on the F__ slippery, F__ slimey, F__ algae-covered F__ river rocks;

3) by the time the F__ slip/fall was over I was up to my F_ neck in the F__ river with my F__ leg bent F_ backwards and toward the inside (to the left) in The Most F__ Unnatural Position F_ Possible and

4) hanging onto my F__ kayak and F__ paddle for dear F__ life while

5) swimming one-F__-legged and one-F__-armed to the F__ shore.

Once I was back ashore, I then had to personally and all alone:

1) reinstall my F__ leg to "straightness" (a skill for which I have absolutely no prior F__ training but there ya F__ go)----what I did was shove "downward" from hip toward the knee and after 3 tries it grotesquely and quite visually snapped back into place;

2) then get in the F__ kayak and paddle for about 4 F__ miles;

3) get OUT of the F_ kayak;

4) haul the F_ kayak up a F_ steep embankment;

5) F_load the F_ kayak on my F__ Dodge Caravan;

6) drive to my F_ house;

7) unload the F__ kayak;

8) drive my F__ self to the F_ emergency room.

Mr. Pansy was at work and the girls were at home with a babysitter.

I knew it was permanently injured but you have to play the insurance jump-through-F__-hoops games and I was too F___ physically fit and still ambulatory (even though my F__ leg/knee was swollen like a F__ soccer ball was in there) so "the man" has made me suffer ever since until finally on Christmas Eve 2007 as I was attempting to get up off the carpeting my knee twisted out of place. That "Christmas Eve Twist" turned out be The Last Dance. The knee became permanently half-cocked due to a loose piece of cartilege or something jamming it from being able to be fully straightened out. Plus there are "multiple" tears in the meniscus. So now I finally qualified for an MRI and even I could see that there was no getting out of surgery for the old nag's knee. Or they were gonna have to put me down. [whinnies nervously]. I was prepared to have to bite down on a towel while the doc yanked my leg back into place. [rolls eyes wildly, stacatto braying]. As it was he just yanked on my hair and yelled "giddyup". [noisily nickering]. I got to crutch up 2 flights of stairs at the doctor's office due to a rainstorm killing the power in his building as well as all over the area. Except our house for goddam once!

After getting referred to the surgeon, I begged the surgeon to call some other patient, cancel their surgery and put me in NOW. He blatantly refused. Something about ethics. So he did his best by scheduling me for 5:30 fucking A.M. on Friday 1/11/08. What a bastard. Fortunately, my surgery date worked with my upcoming parties schedule or I would be really royally pissed off. He was pleased that I already knew that once the surgery is done my knee is FIXED and that I intend to make it do its job. Which is to kick ass. He said I could begin kicking ass after 2weeks...as in that's when I can begin physical therapy.

The Silver Lining: it was convenient going in to see my primary physician with my leg half-cocked up in the air since it saved some time positioning me for a full-cocked examination. And then I found out that he is a carpenter on the side when he rolled me over to my right(even though I prefer being rolled over to my left) before nailing me good and hard. It was a bit more romantic than prior times, due to the use of candles and flashlights. After I gathered my clothing I wasn't too dazzled to forget to pick up the money he usually leaves on the countertop. This time it was a $5 bill with a picture of Bill Clinton on it! I hope the surgeon is as generous.

Vicodin brings the annoyance/pain level down to about 6. Cheap ass surgeon would NOT give me a post-surgery heroin drip. But I finally have a fixed knee so I don't anticipate too much angst during rehab. Except for that F___ part where I got F__ jobbed out of finishing my F___ 8,000 miles on my bicycle (by a mere 209 F___ miles) for 2007. But I'm not fucking bitter. And at least my legs bend enough for Mr. Pansy's examinations.

Now do I got you totally convinced at how Fucking Manned-up I really are?