I’ve always said “expect” is a dirty word; this keeps me from assumptions and jumping to conclusions, among other things. But even an expectation can go both ways. For example, when I was in college and I went in for a test, the same result could bring out a different emotion, depending on the expectation: if you went in expecting an A, and you got a C, you’d be disappointed, but if you went in expecting an F and got that same C, you’d be elated.
So, Wednesday I went to the orthopedic surgeon so he could read my knee MRIs and tell me what was up. This was the first time I’d really gotten the chance to have them looked at, and though the original injury happened years ago, not just that one but both have been giving me problems for the last half year or so. As though my subconscious was also on the no-expectation bandwagon, it never occurred to me that it might be arthritis or something similar; it had to be an injury.
When I came out of the office I was more relieved than delighted to find out I wouldn’t need surgery, and a few weeks of therapy should handle the problem. I haven’t been on a cycle for almost 7 years now, but if the therapy works—no expectation—I am definitely mounting up again, though if it’s 102 degrees in May who knows what the summer will bring.
Or maybe I’ll get an exercise bike instead. . . got a lot of Netflix to catch up on. . .