Anna Cobb Leg II

When I was in high school, I tore my ACL. When people asked me what happened, I told them that I tore my ACL, and when I failed to be able to say what ACL stood for, my friends started referring to it as “Anna Cobb Leg”. Now that I have torn it (the same leg) a second time, I know enough to say that it stands for anterior cruciate ligament.

I have been extremely fortunate in my life as far as my health goes, but I wanted to write down the experience of re-tearing my ACL, both because I want to remember it and because maybe it could be helpful for someone. I’ll try to bold sentences where I write things that are concretely useful. This writeup probably belongs on r/ACL and not here on my website, but oh well.

On Thursday, November 7th (2025), I was bouldering with my friend Grace at the gym. We were at a part of the wall I’d climbed on a million times before–it’s the wall you see immediately upon entering the gym. There was a new route, an orange one with big slopers, and I believe I was on my second try when it happened. I made it a few steps through the route, when I suddenly fell unexpectedly. When I landed, I heard a loud popping sound and my knee gave way. I fell to the ground, crying out and immediately starting to sob. I hate crying, and I’ve always wished I could hold back my tears better. However, in that moment, my brain was only focused on one thing: how bad had I just hurt myself? I lay there, crying and screaming and just really scared, while Grace came over and held my hand and asked me what was wrong, if I was ok, what she could do. I couldn’t say much, and I just lay there crying and panicking and not knowing when I would feel ok again.

Probably 30 seconds later, one of the gym employees came over to see if I was ok. I recognized her as Brie, the one who gave Grace her lead climbing test (I acted as Grace’s lead partner during the test). By this time, I had calmed down a little bit, and was able to respond as she asked me if I was able to move and where it hurt. The weird thing is that I don’t remember feeling any pain when I think about that moment now–I just think about the fear I felt. I wonder how much it hurt.

Anyway, I was eventually able to call my dad. I had talked to him recently, so when he picked up, he jokingly answered ‘Well what is it now?’. When I responded through my tears that I’d hurt my knee and didn’t know how bad it was, he sobered up very quickly (this is actually funny to think about now). Since my leg appeared intact and the pain felt manageable once I had calmed down, we agreed that I could go to the doctor the next day, rather than going to the ER that night.

The next hurdle was getting home. The gym employees gave me some crutches (these were invaluable–accept crutches if they are offered to you and you think you may have torn your acl), and while I could get around on them ok, I definitely couldn’t drive. I had driven myself and Grace, and Grace does not drive often at all. After calling one friend to see if they could give us a ride (they couldn’t), we decided to give Grace a go at driving my car. She did wonderfully. We even stopped at Walgreens and bought some ice packs. Do not buy the one-time-use ice packs! The gel packs are more expensive but are 100% worth it!

Grace helped me back up to my apartment and left me on the futon with some ice packs and a meek ‘I’m all good. Don’t worry!’ (from me, not Grace). The thing was, I really wasn’t sure how bad I was hurt. I have a weird complex about not wanting to overstate how injured I am–I don’t know why I do it, but I remember being the same way when I tore my ACL in high school (I actually won the ‘I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt that much!’ award that year). And maybe there’s nothing wrong with that; why is it a bad thing to assume the best unless proven otherwise?

Anyway, I emailed my advisor that night, saying that I hurt my knee and wasn’t sure if I’d be able to give the two presentations that I had scheduled the next day (at our group research meeting). I’ll circle back to this, but saying I might not be able to make it the next day was an excellent decision.

The next day, I was a terrible mess. I had slept horribly, and I needed the crutches to get around anywhere, and I didn’t know if I should go the ER or urgent care. I actually called CMU’s university health center to ask, and all I remember from that conversation is that the lady asked me if my leg was still attached (which made me irrationally angry) and then told me I should go to the ER. I think this was due to the risk of my leg being broken, although I was pretty confident that was not the case.

I believe I took an Uber to the ER, where it was surprisingly empty. They saw me pretty quickly, and everyone I interacted with was very nice. However, when the actual doctor came in, she poked and prodded my knee for about 2 minutes before saying that I probably sprained my knee and that she did not believe it was an ACL tear. The whole ER visit, I had been holding back tears (sometimes successfully and sometimes unsuccessfully). At that moment, several tears definitely slid out. I just felt like an idiot, at the ER and so upset over what a professional thought was just a sprained knee. In response to my tears, she gave what I felt was a very forced “I’m sorry this happened to you”. That just made me more upset, cementing my trip to the ER as a horrible experience in my mind. I can’t say if urgent care would have been any better, but I will say that I will never go to the ER again unless I have an injury that feels life threatening or is causing me a very significant amount of pain.

Before the ER visit, I was a mess. After the ER visit, I was a sad mess. I very swiftly canceled all my presentations (shout out to Jeremy for being very nice about it!). Later that day, I scheduled an appointment for myself with an orthopedic specialist for as soon as possible. I believe I was actually able to get it scheduled for 3 days later, November 10th.