I'm a Worrier

At the end of last week I hurt my knee. I’m still not quite sure how it all happened. I think it was a combination of substantially increasing my daily running length and playing a rough game of King of the Bed with Mr. B. (He shows no mercy!)

Regardless of the exact “how” at this point, all that I can think of now is that it hurts and deep bruises have appeared down the side of my knee.

I’m a worrier by nature, and this case is no different. My mind quickly jumped to all worst-case scenarios. And while searching about potential causes online, following one link to another, I’d concluded I have cancer and will die soon.

I know: rash. But in my moment of pain it seemed so plausible!

I sent my husband a panicked text, “What if I have cancer?”

“You don’t have cancer.”

“Maybe."

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“Stop worrying.”

I guess that’s the end of that; according to my husband, no cancer.

I’m sure he’s right, but I’m still worried about what permanent damage I may have caused my knee!

Until we can get in to see a doctor I’ve become close friends with ice and ibuprofen, and no more monkeys playing King of the Bed!