I didn't think much of it at first. Just a little catch in my knee going up the stairs. A twinge when I stood up after sitting too long. I told myself it was nothing — just what happens after 50.
But it got worse. Grocery trips. Church. Keeping up with my grandkids on the floor. Every one of those moments started coming with the same quiet question: is my knee going to hold?
So I did what everyone does. I got a brace.
It helped, for about an hour. Then it started sliding down. By noon I was readjusting it every time I sat back down. Some days I spent more time fighting the brace than forgetting about my knee.
I tried a compression sleeve next. Then the tape you have to cut yourself. Different shape, same story — one more thing to think about instead of just living my life.
I started to wonder if this was just it. If I'd have to live with it, one way or another.