oh

I'm pretty young. When I tell people my knees aren't great they don't really seem to believe me; my peers look like they don't know what I'm talking about, and people older than me usually laugh in my face. They go, oh you don't know what it's like for your knees to go bad, you're still too young.

Well hey. I've been working in construction all my life. My dad started taking me to work with him when I was four, and he started paying me when I was seven. Three dollars an hour. I was so stoked to be making money, and so bummed to learn that a job meant waking up early and lifting heavy stuff all day. And since then I've pretty much been working. I was homeschooled and my dad was in construction, so going to work was considered by my parents to be a valid school time activity. Fourteen years old and driving around lulls and bobcats and busting concrete with a hammer. Half my life already at that point, working. When I think about it, there was only a very small fraction of my life when I wasn't working. I mean not all of it was back breaking, I did a lot of sweeping. So much sweeping.

And my knees hurt. They crunch and grind when I move them. If I put my hand on a knee while I flex it I can feel the spot where the bones or whatever rub together. If I stand too long without marching in place my knees start to swell and seize. I have to make sure whatever shoes I wear have proper padding in them because if I don't my knees ache after standing for like an hour. I dread a sink full of dishes because I know that standing on the tiles for that long will make my knees hurt, but I'm too proud to take a break.

And I think maybe that's why I'm writing this. Maybe I'm realizing that I haven't been taking this seriously either. I think to a degree I've been taking it seriously. I quit my main construction job. I'm trying to start up a new business that doesn't involve so much standing and heavy lifting.

My dad was one of the few people I told about this who seemed to really get it and believe me. When I told him my knees hurt, and he put his hand on my knee to feel the crunch, he didn't laugh. He just looked sad. And he said "Well, it's not going to get any better,"

That's how he is. In his mind, as best I can tell, he has found the best way to provide for his family, and to make his way in this world in general. And one of the costs he has to pay is his body. All of the ligaments in his left shoulder tore in a ski accident when he was in his early twenties, but he uses his shoulder like they're still whole. He once put a circular saw in his knee, and it took a lot of begging from my mom for him to go to the hospital. We've many a time stayed up late working on projects, me holding the light while he works, patiently explaining to me what he's doing the whole time.

My dad is so strong. Physically, emotionally. He can lift more than any man I know, work as long and hard as someone half his age, and I've never once heard him complain about a job being too difficult.

I just wonder what the cost is. If it's worth it. If bad knees are worth it. If waking up aching every day, having all of your muscles tied up into one giant knot, the constant risk of injury, is all worth it. For stability.