That's another long, stupid story that I hesitate to commit to paper or web.
The cane is bizarre - with time it can become like another appendage. I hope to be better before that, but in the meantime I hobble the street, counting my pace, trying to make sure it's doing its job. I look like Hugh Laurie's House in both infirmity and miserable demeanor, but in nothing else.
It could be worse, I know that. It could always be worse.
It could have been both knees.