I am a dancer – or maybe the better term is was a dancer. Over a year ago I apparently tore the meniscus of my right knee while dancing at a fundraiser. Thankfully it didn’t create immediate pain (unlike when my son Matthew who tore his ACL when he was a kid – he was in immediate pain) and, in fact, I was at another fundraiser the following night walking the grounds of a beautiful house in Glendale.

I did go see a doctor – Dr. William Stetson, a brilliant orthopaedic surgeon in Burbank who actually did surgery on Matt’s knee so many years ago.

After an MRI, X-rays and other diagnostic tests, it was decided that I’d have surgery in October to fix the tear. But that was when Matt’s daughter was due to arrive (he now lives in North Carolina). So I postponed the surgery and flew to North Carolina to be with Matt and Khalilah.

Surgery was actually performed in December and since then I was in physical therapy at DSC in La Cañada (also where Matthew went so many years ago) until April of this year. I have been vigilant in doing my knee exercises at home as I know that it is essential for my recovery to do those.

But … I am a dancer at heart and on July 1 was the wedding of a family friend in San Clemente. And (you probably guessed) the music was fantastic. It was so fantastic that I was lured (more than once) to the dance floor to show off my moves.

But I paid the price. My knee swelled up to the size of a softball and it wasn’t until this week that the swelling went down. I thank the liberal use of ice to help with that reduction.

I have to admit, though, that I’m pretty ticked off at the whole scenario. I mean, I grew up dancing. In fact, back in the day (way back) my boyfriend and I owned a mobile disco (yes, I’m dating myself) and he would spin the records and I would dance. I would show people how to do the Time Warp, for example, and other popular dances. I used to go to the Sugar Shack, an under 21 club, most weekends and dance away the night. Unfortunately, my body is very familiar with the fact that I am no longer under 21 years old (or even close to it) and is ready to punish me if I attempt to do those things (like dance) that I used to do regularly.

I chide myself that I now seem to get old lady injuries doing young lady activities. I guess I’d better be a bit more careful.

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A quick correction: in last week’s column I applauded the wrong Kugler for playing at the July 4^th festivities at CV High School. It was Jasper Kugler who played in the CV Brass band. Congratulations are extended to the (correct) Kugler.