The pain began slowly, pricking me with its sharp needles only while doing barre in ballet once a week. I ignored it, believing it to be normal, common discomfort that would soon go away, typical thoughts of a dancer whose entire sport is centered around “good pain”. Six months later, it had escalated to the degree that every step I took felt like an arrow to my knee. Dancing had become impossible, and it was determined that I should be taken to the orthopedist. The bland, brown and beige lobby became extraordinarily familiar as I waited two hours to be examined.…