ACL AGAIN

A year ago, after my second ACL injury, I started this blog because I needed somewhere to put all of it — the frustration, the setbacks, the small wins, and the reality of what recovery actually looks like. This Wednesday, I’m headed to what I hope will be my final visit with my surgeon. There’s a very real possibility that I’ll finally be released from physical therapy. After two long years of injuries, surgeries, rehab, and rebuilding, that feels surreal to say out loud. AC

I went back to the surgeon for another follow-up recently. The appointment felt familiar — hopeful, cautious, and a little bit emotionally neutral all at the same time. Every time I go in, we both think this will probably be the last round of physical therapy. And every time, it isn’t. This time was no different. Eight more weeks of PT. At this point, I don’t really let myself get my hopes up about being “done.” I’ve learned that recovery doesn’t follow the timeline you imag

I’m about a month out from my next appointment with the surgeon—and for the first time in a long time, that timeline feels exciting instead of heavy. I switched physical therapy offices recently. Translation: I voluntarily signed up to be tortured by blood flow restriction therapy. If you know, you know. It’s uncomfortable, humbling, and wildly effective. The kind of work that reminds you progress isn’t always pretty—but it’s always earned. What’s different this time is my mi