Hey, Isn't This Supposed to Help My Knees?

On Thursday, the doctor told me what I needed to do for my sore and aching knee: (1) an oral anti-inflammatory medication (2) a topical anti-inflammatory ointment (3) foot-turned-out leg raises 100 times a day (4) physical therapy.  Then, she added, "And knee bands.  I want you wearing them on each knee every waking moment for the next month, unless you are in the shower!"

Knee bands?  What are they?  Well, I think they were invented by the Marquis De Sades.  They are about an inch across and cinch with velcro straps around the knee just below the joint.  They felt miserable right from the get-go, but I wore them to work.  I wore them all afternoon.  I counted the hours until bedtime.  Hey, what if I go to bed at 8:00?  That might help!  I wore them after work while having a cool and refreshing Legend Brown Ale, one of the best beers ever, on the deck of Legend Brewing Company.  Maybe the beer would help.  It didn't.  I finally got home about 7:00, and contemplated going to bed right then so I could take the damned things off.

But instead, removing my trousers to put on a pair of jeans, I noticed how red and irritated and sore and painful everything was where the bands were.  I took the bands off, because it seemed like lunacy to keep wearing them.  "I'll put them on in the morning," I thought.  But in the morning, I still had bright red marks around each knee after nearly 12 hours of not wearing them:

So, I have not worn them since, and don't really intend to.  I walked 4 miles, briskly, this morning and things felt pretty good.  I'll do the other stuff - the drugs and the exercises - but these knee bands?  The Marquis can have them back!