I’m feeling down in the dumps. My friends know about my fluctuating moods well enough, and unlike my past, I know why I am on the down-and-outs.
My knee is veritably fucked, again.
As a quick recap, I first injured my knee back in 2009, playing football with friends. It was an innocuous challenge but after lots of investigating by medical professionals a rip in my cartilage was found. A meniscus tear. Fast forward to September of this year and I finally had surgery and I was optimistic and finally happy that my previous active and healthy lifestyle will resume. I signed up to the gym, I joined a football club – I even looked into buying a new bike.
The surgery went ahead without any problems, the physio gave me the all clear for free range of movement and off I skipped (not literally) to my brighter future. The leg was stiff and sore, sure, but I knew that finally the pain would subside.
Fast forward once more to this weekend where I was playing football (I love the sport, okay?) and turning on the ball (a cruyff turn, for those in the know) and down I went. I wasn’t surprised, I was expecting some bumps along the road. I hit the floor without so much of a grunt in pain. I got up and limped gingerly to the sidelines, sat down and massaged my leg. I could feel the swelling already but like before, I was expecting something like this. After a few minutes I got up and walked around the pitch, stretching the leg and testing it out. I could put weight through it, but I couldn’t bend it – worrying. I attempted to kill the ball and there was no hope in me having any lateral movement through my right knee (I’m left footed, I need my right side to rotate). I gave up and went home.
A few hours later my leg was still swollen, despite plenty of RICE (acronyms are great, aren’t they?) and even more troubling, my foot was going numb. Brilliant. Best go to A&E hadn’t I?
Problem was that when I got to the hospital the waiting area was something akin to a refugee camp. Shit, I thought, it’s Saturday night, this place will be heaving. I asked the reception about waiting times and was responded with “as fast as we can”. Well yes, I wouldn’t think you would take your time about it. I gave my details and waited 4 hours before giving up and going home. I can walk on it, it can’t be that bad.
So today is Sunday, 20 minutes remaining of the weekend and my knee hasn’t changed. The swelling as reduced somewhat, I guess, but there is a lovely patter of bruising all over it. I can’t bend it, my foot is still numb and even my hip is beginning to ache.
If I was a dog, I’d be put down.
I’m making a doctors appointment tomorrow, I’ve been given the friendly advice to “give up on sport mate”. Problem was even though I hurt myself playing football, I don’t think it classes as a sports injury. It wasn’t under contact, it was just me moving. Hmm. I’m annoyed, frustrated, upset and depressed (although I loathe to use that word given my history).