I have long said that exercise is dangerous: that 100% of all those I know who are physically active injure themselves. But I never expected that just frigging walking could be so problematic and fraught with danger!
I was on my way to meet some folk for lunch (Lygon Street, Carlton, a famed Melbourne eating place), when I stepped in a slight depression on the footpath and rolled my left ankle. This happens to me a lot, since I squashed my left foot in a motorcycle accident 30+ years ago, but I usually recover quickly. This time I didn’t.
As I fell I heard, and felt, a loud “snap” in my left knee, and by the time I hit the ground I was screaming in agony (worse than the accident above), Lovely bystanders came to my aid and one asked “Should we call an ambulance?” I didn’t hesitate for even a millisecond. “Yes!” I gasped in between sobs and screams (I am nothing if not expressive when it comes to pain. If I have to be in it, others must know that I am).
So, after five hours of morphine, x-rays and solicitous ER nurses, doctors, paramedics and radiographers, I discover that I have ruptured my anterior and medial cruciate ligaments, and the meniscus (did I get those names right? I can’t look it up now, as the morphine is making me very inattentive to detail).
Short story: I am now unable to walk for at least six weeks, and probably will never walk properly again. I can look forward to three years of rehab, and possible surgery.
This is a perfect outcome to cap off the last 18 months. I expect that my flat will be hit by a falling jet engine soon, and I won’t get the five foot scary rabbit first. Thought you all should know why I am going to be very bloody grumpy over the next little while.
On the day
This morning (with the pressure bandage leaving ribbing marks).