Sitting in the doctor’s office with my elder brother, the X-rays of my knees placed on the table, the doctor was fixing two cups of tea. I was already sucking on the straw, my Pepsi halfway finished.
The doctor was my brother’s friend. Me and my brother were here because of constant clicking in my knees.
Like most families, we do not go to the doctor on light pains or clicking sounds in knee joints. But my brother hadn’t met his old friend for a long time. I was told to tag along. Half an hour later, I had done the X-ray as required.
I was 16 years old at the time.
“You see here,” the doctor said, talking strictly to my brother, “see the rough edges around here, this is probably a developing case of Arthritis.” Continue reading