18. Okt. 2025
In May 2017, I was a fit 34-year-old training for a triathlon when everything changed. After a bad bike crash, I later felt something “pop” while running and was overcome by sharp pain. An initial diagnosis showed a small cartilage tear, and I was told that an arthroscopic “clean-up” procedure would have me back to running and biking within six weeks.
On July 24, 2017, I underwent arthroscopic surgery and was also diagnosed with a bone bruise. I went home on crutches, expecting a routine recovery—but within a week, my knee began to swell uncontrollably. Despite physical therapy, my range of motion rapidly declined. I couldn’t activate my quadriceps, and my knee became locked at an 87° bend. I needed crutches just to move. As a pre-K teacher, I was forced to take time off work to focus on recovery.
When tests ruled out infection, autoimmune disease, and cancer, my orthopedic surgeon noted only elevated inflammatory markers and recommended a second arthroscopy to “clean out scar tissue.” I agreed, and on September 28, 2017, I underwent my second knee surgery. Despite intense physical therapy and use of a continuous passive motion (CPM) machine, my swelling and stiffness worsened again. I was referred to multiple specialists, underwent nerve testing and full-body scans, and was told to take the rest of the semester off. No one could explain why my knee would not bend or straighten. The pain became unbearable. I couldn’t walk without support. My mental health deteriorated—I experienced frequent panic attacks, severe anxiety, and depression. At times, I felt hopeless.
In February 2018, I had a closed manipulation procedure and a bone marrow aspirate injection. Though excruciating, it finally brought some improvement in my range of motion. However, my knee remained stuck at about 100°, compared to 125° in my healthy leg. I continued searching for answers and eventually found a story online about another woman whose experience mirrored mine—she had arthrofibrosis. When I shared this with my orthopedic surgeon, he admitted he had no further treatment options. I cancelled a planned repeat procedure and instead sought out the specialist who had helped the woman I found. He confirmed my diagnosis of arthrofibrosis (AF) and gave me two options: live with my limp for the rest of my life or take one last chance with reconstructive surgery. At 35, I wasn’t ready to give up.
On July 24, 2018—exactly one year to the day of my first surgery—I underwent an open surgery where the doctor removed handfuls of scar tissue, some as dense as small bones. Under his recovery protocol, I participated in intensive physical therapy twice a day, used the CPM machine when not in therapy, and wore a brace to maintain joint position. For the first time in over a year, I saw real progress. I could finally make a full rotation on a stationary bike. My hope returned.
However, in March 2019, I suffered an anaphylactic reaction to an allergy injection. Soon after, I experienced renewed swelling and pain. I returned to using two crutches and resumed frequent visits to my surgeon. When I mentioned the allergic reaction, he referred me to a rheumatologist, who diagnosed me with undifferentiated connective tissue disease. Working together, my surgeon and rheumatologist started me on medication to control my body’s inflammation.
By December 2019, I was completely off crutches and walking with only a slight limp. In April 2020, I was officially released from my surgeon’s care. Their collaborative approach gave me my life back.
The mental and emotional toll of arthrofibrosis was indescribable, but so was the relief of finally being understood and treated effectively. With the help of my husband, psychiatrist, and therapist, I began to heal both physically and mentally.
Although I never returned to teaching or triathlons, I found new joy in floral design. What began as a therapeutic hobby in 2019 has grown into my own small business. Flowers became my form of healing and expression—and now, on Arthrofibrosis Awareness Day, which coincides with Petal It Forward Day, I celebrate by giving away flowers: one for someone to keep, and one for them to share.
It feels meant to be that these two days align. Flowers brought me peace through pain—and now they help me share hope with others.
Thank you to everyone at IAA for raising awareness and supporting those affected by this life-changing condition. I’m forever grateful to the doctors who listened, the family who stood by me, and the community that reminds me I’m not alone.
Update: I believe two different medications were a critical part of my healing. I was prescribed Losartan for a month prior to my big surgery and for two months following. I was also prescribed Hydroxychloroquine for an autoimmune disease. A few years ago, I was diagnosed with Ehrlers Danlos and mast cell activation syndrome, which could have played a big part in the rapid development of scar tissue.