Since April 6th, a brace has encased my right leg from upper thigh to ankle. A dial on the brace allows my knee to bend to a set degree. The brace protects the work done on my knee. I hate the brace.

When I get frustrated with or am frightened of some aspect of my body, I photograph it. Photography lets me look at the problematic part/issue/device merely as a subject that must be evaluated for composition. I did that with my crutches when I had to stay off of my left leg for 10 weeks due to osteonecrosis in my knee. The crutches were such an imposition - I couldn’t carry anything, my ability to walk outside was limited, I needed help to do small everyday activities. I resented those crutches. So, I did a photographic shoot with them - that act was very satisfying and changed my attitude toward them. After hospitalization for a systemic Staph infection, I came home with a PICC line installed in my arm so I could continue antibiotic infusions at home. The PICC line creeped me out, scared me. I didn’t want to look at it. But once I photographed it, I could accept it.

Which leads me to the brace. The brace is a pain. I find sleeping with it difficult. When I began walking around the neighborhood, I discovered that, despite having four adjustable straps, the brace slid down my leg every 30 yards or so. During a walk of several miles, this proved to be beyond irritating. I would tighten the straps until they felt like a tourniquet, to no avail. Eventually the brace dropped and the joint portion slid below my knee, preventing it from bending.

Today’s image is the brace - specifically, the adjustment that controls the range of motion allowed. Right now, it is set at 90 degrees. I was able to ditch the crutches today, but still have to wear the brace 24/7. But I can now look at it as an interesting photographic subject until I can shed it as well.