My magnificent bruising has been reclassified as a haematoma, which probably explains why I’m still hobbling around almost two weeks since my accident.
I was lucky enough to see one of our fabulous MS nurses at the Work and MS conference on Saturday and during a coffee break, I rolled my jeans down in the loos to show her the injury.
She carefully examined it and suggested I take myself off to Accident and Emergency to have it scanned in case there was an underlying fracture.
To cut a long story short, my mum took me that evening and the good news is, it’s just a haematoma, not a fracture. The bad news is, the only thing I can do is wait for the swelling to go down. It’s not going anywhere fast and neither am I. The pace of my life wasn’t particularly speedy before (take a bow, MS fatigue and foot drop) but has now slowed to a virtual stop.
I’ve been told to keep my leg elevated as much as possible, so needing no excuse to lie down and fill my brain with trashy tv when I should be slaving over an essay, my sofa is now almost permanently in use, much to the chagrin of the cat.
The Teenager marvels at my ‘cushy’ life and prods the lump on my leg in wonder. He’s very much enjoying visiting friends for tea after school and has perfected his sad face when talking to their parents, ‘oh, my mum’s dreadfully ill, she’s got this massive thing on her leg, the size of a rugby ball, honestly, she can barely speak, it’s that bad’ before gratefully accepting yet another chocolate roll or can of Coke.
I’m sure I’ll be back on my feet soon enough and will no doubt look back wistfully on my weeks at home when I go back to work. But I do miss the banter and bacon rolls and even my nickname, ‘Half-Shift’…
