I had never hurt myself playing sports, or falling down, or anything like that. No, I just never got hurt. It helped that I was a theater kid, but I still did track (mostly the field events). My sophomore year in high school I took a yoga class. I proved to be quite good at it too. I was super flexible in my knees, I could bend to the ground and flat palm, touch the floor, without bending my knees. Another funny thing I could do was pop out my knee joint, and pop it back in. One day, It wouldn’t pop back in. I was sitting upstairs in my room, looking under the bed for my shoes, and as I came up, I was stuck. I was frozen from fear, ‘was my leg really stuck right now?’ I tried to move the whole leg, but then the pain came in. It felt like an elephant was leaning on my leg while it was bent, and I freaked out. I screamed for my grandparents who were trying to get all three of my siblings and I out of the house. They were so frustrated already, they must have thought I just really didn’t want to go wherever we were going. They came up, and I was sitting their on the floor holding my knee crying. I told them “my leg is stuck”. They started pushing and pulling on my leg but the pain was just so bad. They backed away and I took my turn. The worst sound in the world came out of my leg. It sounded like a tree ripping from its roots out of the ground. It was deep and horrifying. The swelling that followed wasn’t very pleasant either, but eventually all was well. They knew I would pop my knee out, and assumed it was a fluke accident. They told me to stop screwing around with my knee, and I listened. Back in yoga class, running later in the session, we were stretching out with our knees up. The teacher told us that we finally made it through all the tedious planks and holds, to the fun part: the ten minute nap part. I started to stretch my leg back out, but it wouldn’t budge. The class had gone silent and I couldn’t move. I was too afraid to talk, so I thought I’d just give this one a try and see if I could get out of it alone this time. The pain was just so bad I started to cry as quietly as I could. I was too embarrassed to show anyone that I was a wimp who’s leg was stuck. The pain was too much though. The girl next to me noticed my suffering, and she came to help me. The whole room was silent, and so far no one else had noticed me. That is, until the bones scraped back into place echoing around the room like a fallen tree. After that, my knee kept buckling and locking. The swelling made it so I couldn’t walk anymore without pain. I went to the doctors to see what was going on. After all these tests, the machines and stretches, they came back saying their was nothing wrong with my leg. I was furious. I wanted to pop my knee right there in the office and show them what I meant but the thought of purposely injuring myself made me shut right up. The specialist sent me to physical therapy. I dreaded PT until I got their and they went over my whole body, bit by bit, explaining how things came to be. There were people there who were specialized building the localized area and some who did work on the whole leg. Week after week, I went home with more exercises that I simply could not do. I told them the pain was too much, and they agreed: something WAS wrong. I went to elliot hospital for a second opinion. They asked for my MRI scans and X-rays, and physical therapy report. They ordered another MRI but this time, they were going to inject a dye right into my knee. they increased the swelling to get a better view at my knee. The results came back with a tear in my lateral meniscus and they wanted to put me in for surgery. I was so relieved, I knew something was wrong, but the though of surgery was a whole other ball park. The surgery was scheduled for the week before the end of summer vacation, right before school started up again. The day of the surgery they had all these people in my prep room. Anesthesiologist, and a bunch of nurses preping me for surgery. I won’t lie I was defiantly scared to go under, I kept thinking, ‘what if I wake up during surgery?’ Then the surgeon Dr. Johnathan Mack, came in with his little black marker, asked me which knee was hurting, I said the right knee. He signed it, then some nurse said to count down from 10. I got to like 7 or 6 and I was out. When I woke up, I thought ‘oh I’m done’ then tried to stand up. The two nurses caught me and told me not to stand on that knee. They put me in a wheel chair and wheeled me to my grandmother. I was so groggy from the anesthetic that I didn’t know what was going on really. the truth is they found the tare, and realized it was extensive. I almost needed a new knee. But overall everything was just fine, and the surgery was a success. When I got home, I had to take some pain pills. There were complications with that. I was having strong muscle cramps from my neck to my shoulder that made me unable to sit straight up. I crawled downstairs and dragged myself to my grandparents bedroom, and I tried to wake them up. It took a while but they finally woke up. They helped me get up, sat me in a chair, and they called the hospital. Just to recap, we’ve got the pediatrician, specialist, surgeon, anesthesiologist, physical therapist, and now were adding the pharmacologists. They pharmacy took a look at my charts and prescribed some anti-nausea pills and sent me on my way. Then the end of my treatment, Physical therapy again. In the end, I walked away with three little orthoscopic scars from a nightmare from nowhere. I consider this whole ordeal to be quite interdisciplinary. The disciplines involved were necessary in making sure I could still walk.