I never use normally use the word ‘twisted’, but this is two blog posts in a row now.
From ‘twisty-turny path’ of my last one to a real, live twist in this one.
Am I actually clairvoyant?
I twisted my knee yesterday.
Of all the things to do and in such a random way. I don’t know about you guys but sometimes messages take a little longer to get from my brain to the correct bits of my body. So, I’m standing there, in work, knowing I want to turn. Most of my body does, except my lower legs and feet.
Snap. Pop. Twang. Something went in the back of my knee. It hurt, and then it didn’t, so I carried on.
A couple of hours later, I was in agony. All evening I slapped bags of frozen parsnips on it (I hate parsnips, no idea why I bought them) and elevated it. Painful doesn’t begin to describe it. As it was a Saturday night, there was no point going to A&E, so I took some Nurofen, watched ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ and shuffled slowly to bed.
This morning, I got up early and took myself off to the emergency department. Or rather, I limped. The pain was excruciating and triggered every nerve cell which is normally kept at bay by the neuropathic pain meds I take. I was a bit of a fizzing mess.
After triage, an x-ray and a consultation, I was told to rest, but keep moving. Move, but rest. And then prescribed the strongest painkillers they were allowed to and given a leaflet about knee injuries.
I felt like being brave so I went to work (I know, right?), where I took the first painkillers. The Boss had made coffee, so it was worth turning up just for that. Anyway, within half an hour, I was pain-free and ever so slightly out of it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone to work, but the thought of being laid-up at home reminded me too much of a relapse.
I got home, discovered the cat had left a poo on one of my rugs, realised I was out of milk and began to feel sorry for myself. Time for some more painkillers. And maybe a different kind of ice …