For a hypochondriac (and probably in common with most hypochondriacs) there’s really been very little wrong with me. I’ve also been relatively fortunate in picking up physical injuries. I did once break my finger, but in true Stuart Pearce style, had no idea and tried to play a game of squash next day.
The one major injury I’ve had was at school when, in a good old fashioned game of British Bulldog, somebody tripped me in full flight, I slammed into the ground got up and yelled: “Fucccccccccccccccck. That hurts,” immediately after hearing the crack of my collarbone breaking.
I’ve also been somewhat fortuitous insofar as I’m reasonably active, in a sporting sense, and try to fit in a game or two of something on a regular basis, and in that time I’ve certainly been anything but injury prone.
Ok, so there was the second time I was forced onto a hockey pitch and had to be carried off after one ball cracked against my right ankle, then another into my left knee as I was limping off. After that I somewhat lost enthusiasm for the sport and preferred to try and recreate Star Wars with my hockey stick on the corner of the pitch until such time I was released into the bosom of the cross-country team.
I also used to tweak my hamstring on a regular basis whenever I took to a football pitch. This, however, was before I was informed warming-up generally prevented such injuries. I then discovered weights in the gym and, since such times, my hamstrings have remain resolutely tweak-free. In short, I may not be a walking advert for a healthy lifestyle, but I do my best to at least get government fitnesses tzars nodding in approval. Or at least until they discover I’m partial to a glass or two of wine with my evening meal, or a pint or two after work, at which point I become A Bad Man, apparently.
So, this week has come as somewhat of a shock to me when I achieved my first proper ligament/tendon/muscle injury. Of which, I’ve yet to ascertain, but I do know that after football and a couple of gym sessions my right knee is non-too-fond of walking up stairs and is, well, looking far more swollen than my normal, if somewhat weedier, left knee.
This is a bafflement to me. Coughs, colds, and general internal illnesses I can deal with. I have an overflowing medicinal cabinet, both at home and at work. But swollen knees are something new to me; they baffle me, as I’m not sure how serious this is, and what is the appropriate type of exercise to take. Trying to get to the doctor to tell them such is a mission in itself, liable to bring on a severe migraine. Fortunately I have good pills for this occurrence, unlike the knee.
Now I’m faced with a question. Having eschewed 5-a-side last week to allow the knee to recover, do I attempt the equivalent of a 30 minutes for the ressies on a Monday night. And more to the point, having just spent money to join a professional gymnasium outfit, I’m faced with the possibility of seeing them laughing all the way to the bank with my subscription while I recuperate at home, metaphorically, but not physically, hamstrung.
My knee does not currently hurt. But it did earlier. And it hurt to buggery last night in the cinema, which resulted in excessive seat shifting to stop it hurting, the like of which probably disconcerted the female friend I went with. And there’s no guarantee it won’t hurt tomorrow. And I’d quite like to partake in some physical activity at the gym in the morning. I’m afraid of turning up to work with a stick, as sticks are not part of this year’s must-have fashion accessories.
In other news, I think I have the dreaded man-flu approaching. One housemate has already bravely battled against this before succumbing. Female housemate in now in the throes of it, although what the female equivalent of man-flu is I’m not quite sure.
I am ready though. I have drugs. Colds I do not fear. Swollen knees I do.