I went to the San Diego Sports Clinic because I wanted someone to help me.
I was hurting. Both feet. My right knee. My lower back. My shoulder. My hip.
I expected physical therapy. Exercises. Maybe somebody would show me what I was doing wrong and give me something I could work on.
The doctor spent quite a bit of time with me. He asked a lot of questions, did an evaluation, and then sat down and very matter-of-factly told me what he thought might be ahead.
More testing first. But probably a series of seven surgeries over the next couple of years. He even suggested a wheelchair might eventually be in my future.
That scared the daylights out of me.
I was 53 years old. This wasn’t the future I had pictured.
So Peggy and I Started Looking
I didn’t storm out of the doctor’s office convinced that he was wrong.
I didn’t know if he was wrong.
I just knew I wasn’t ready to accept that surgery after surgery was the only road available to me.
So Peggy and I started doing research. Not because we knew what …
