Kevin's Peterborough Patio Journal

I was halfway through ordering my double-double at the Tim Hortons by the Costco in Brampton when I looked down and realised my knee didn't look like my knee anymore. It was swollen, a little purple under the skin, and the usual confidence I have about walking into the rink for Sunday night hockey was gone. I paid, fumbled for my keys with one hand, and the sting of the parking lot lights felt a bit too bright. That was the night I stopped pretending I could wait it out.

I was halfway out of my truck in the Costco parking lot, juggling a crate of protein shakes and a toddler backpack, when my knee made that stupid, surprised sound you only hear in movies. It was not loud, but it felt like a small betrayal. I shifted my weight to the other leg, then realized I was limping worse than I had the week after that fender-bender on the 401. People glanced. I cursed under my breath. My wife was on the phone upstairs saying she could turn the car aro

I was halfway through ordering a double-double at the Tim Hortons on Steeles when I realized my knee had ballooned. Not a little puffed, but that tight, shiny kind of swelling that makes you want to sit down and not move. I shifted my weight from my good leg to the walker beside me and tried to pretend I was just being dramatic. The guy in front of me asked if I wanted the muffin, and I nodded like a dad who had everything under control. This is how it went for the first

I was halfway through the Costco parking lot, kid asleep in the back, cart full of frozen pizza and whatever my wife swore we needed for the week, when my knee decided to remind me it existed. It went soft under me like someone had yanked a rug. I sat down on the curb, phone still in my hand, watching people with their SUVs and membership cards walk by and thinking, great, this is how it starts. Limp to the car. Ice at home. Say nothing to anyone until it's either better or