My knee can DIAF

This is a total copy paste of my MRI results. Effffff Emmmmm Elllllllllllllllllllllllllllll!! Someone send cookies, stat. And by cookies, I really mean beer.


Findings: The patient is status post an ACL repair with a patellar tendon 
graft. There is diffusely increased signal within the graft, and within 
the central portion of the graft there appears to be a focal discontinuity 
of its fibers.  

There is marrow edema in the posterior aspect of the distal femoral 
metaphysis centered around and posterior – lateral to the graft tunnel. 
Probably related to the graft tear. 

There is an undersurface tear of the posterior horn and body of the medial 
meniscus. It is best demonstrated on coronal 2D weighted images 20 
through 23 and on sagittal T2 weighted images 6 and 7. There are both 
horizontal and oblique components. Anterior horn of the medical meniscus 
is unremarkable. The lateral meniscus is unremarkable. 


No significant cartilage loss. Borderline small knee joint effusion. 

Impression
1. The anterior cruciate ligament graft is torn. 
2. Tear of the undersurface of the posterior horn and body of medial 
meniscus. 


Tl;dr:
I def re-tore my bloody ACL. I'm going to have to get an allograft this time aka dead person meat and I'm going to join Silver Sneakers because apparently I'm too lame to ever actually work out like a normal 32 year old SAHM. Also, FML and cuss words and bla bla bla. 
Now I just have to wait for the surgeon to actually call. Don't mind me, I'll just be sitting here glaring at my stairs (that I tumbled down a few weeks ago) and my stupid fat knee and my ugly purple phone, waiting for it to ring.

Someone grab the steering wheel, stat.

I don't know how my mom did it. A single woman with two children. Jobs, drama, etc. I have an amazing, supportive husband and no job (by choice) and over the last few days I feel like I'm one deep breath away from a genuine, honest-to-goodness anxiety attack.

I'm literally staring at my koi pond... Err... I mean my goldfish pond, hoping for the best and assuming the worst that I retore my ACL. Emma is staring kindergarten in 8 days and she still doesn't wipe her own ass after #2. She's declared her hatred for me no less than 12 times in the last seven days.

Tommy often calls me 'daddy'.

Meatball problems, I know. 

Jesus take the wheel. I can't even work out because my mom is here and I haven't been to the gym all week and even if I could I really need to run and I physically  can't run and even then, I'm not on the damned kids klub list and I just.want.to.RUN. 

Anywho, happy Sunday y'all!