After the painful ride to Geo’s a restorative cup of tea and then on to TOO’s, which was equally painful (the ride, not the company). Thinking that I had a day at WVM on Wednesday I slapped Voltarol on both knees, the left, being left, was unionised and believed in the old maxim of one out, all out and had started to ache as well. Over breakfast on Monday Geo. had mentioned, as 09.00 approached, that he would be in TBS by that time tomorrow and TOO added that he would have been there for an hour and a half already; I don’t think that my observation on it getting towards reveille was that well received.
09.00 Tuesday was indeed reveille, but it was far from leap from bed with joy in my heart; it was an eventual crawl out of bed with curses on my lips and pain in my knees. As luck would have it Ms. Ringing, the gaulieter of WVM, rang to say that there had been a mistake and I was not needed on the morrow and so my knees had an extra recovery day – not that it did much good, I had to ring in hors de combat on Thursday. The good news, for me at least, is that my left knee has given up the sympathy action and is now pain-free and working normally. I hope the right follows a good example but somehow doubt it.
Whilst in Brecon SBD and I had discussed the fallacy of “shit happens” as one does not know when a negative experience will have a positive longer term effect. Had I not had to cancel that trip to Deptford I would not have been taking a cup of brunch outside a cafe near base as Amy walked past. She is another Crisis Drinkers’ (as was) Shelter person, in fact another in the ever growing list of green badgers therefrom. Something that made the event more interesting is that she lives one station short of where I change from oxo to bus en route to Deptford but have never seen her in that vicinity. My day was enriched, as I hope hers was.
My cancellation of WVM was the catalyst to seeing a doctor and was lucky to get in on someone else’s cancellation for Friday morning. He was a spot on chappie – put a finger right on the most tender part; through gritted teeth I congratulated him (although to him it might have sounded like unseemly language). Interestingly I had thought that I had re-opened the tears in my knee cartilages but the pain wasn’t quite as or where I remembered – which may account for the new damage being in a ligament as against the old cartilage problem. Having spent the weekend railing against a certain party and his (to me) rather silly habit of taking selfies at the drop of a hat – and insisting on including everyone else in the group I did ponder about this one
but eventually thought that, purely in the name of medical science (ok, and an unrepentant and obvious attempt to gain sympathy) this one was justified.
The professional medical advice was ‘slap a load of Voltarol on it four times per diem’ – which , apart from the regularity, was exactly what I had been doing; I wonder if I was a doctor of medicine in a previous incarnation. Interestingly, the doctor suggested as much exercise as I could manage to assist blood flow; I had thought that rest was meant to be good.
Having overcome my aversion to the lackeys to the Great Satans of the pharmaceutical industry I seem to be on an I love Doctors roll – Saturday was my date with the anti-flu campaign. It is bad enough hobbling about with a walking stick, but joining the danse macabre of the death’s door brigade… I even got to the surgery only just as the doors opened and the great grey wave surged forward. A couple of frail old codgers went so far as to offer me a seat! Just like TOMA, how the mighty are fallen.
The annual flu injection ritual is an allegedly necessary event which this year had an added, intriguing, twist. I don’t know how the order of treatment is decided; despite not being first in the queue I was the first invited in – and was immediately on my guard. The very pleasant Geordie sounding woman invited me to sit but acquiesced to my standing when I explained my mobility problem – and then she asked my age! Apparently this year there are two different cocktails of chemicals – why, I asked? Is this the dastardly Tory govt.’s last ditch attempt to make a sustainable NHS; cull the wrinklies? If it wasn’t that Toryism is a dieing political philosophy, supported mainly by the aged angry I would have been severely worried but surely even their strategists wouldn’t deliberately kill off their few and diminishing private supporters….. would they? Even the Geordie stabber seemed a little unsure of how to answer.
There being litle newsworthy and definitely nothing photogenic in the mitherings of an invalid, this will be a truncated broadcast. Two words of advice: don’t damage ligaments, it a painful and futile exercise but do buy shares in Voltarol, I fear recovery is going to be a long and boring process.
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