After my self-diagnosis of an ‘angry’ tendon last week, I decided to seek professional advice in the form of someone who has done more than watch the episode of Casualty where someone slips over.
Physio diagnosis was that it was inflamed. I preferred pissed off but you say tomato etc
Rest and frozen peas were prescribed. I also threw in some daytime tv, swimming, the healing waters of Birmingham and lots of food. Ice-cream, Skittles, cocktails, fabulous Polish food found in the heart of Brum, vodka and a BBQ breakfast have been consumed in the past five days to try to tempt the leg back to pre-pissed off health.
The prescription has – amazingly – helped and the leg has been downgraded to ‘slightly annoyed’. Who would have thought that a combination of cherry vodka and coffee ice-cream would help? Women’s mags obviously, they prescribe it for a broken heart so why not an angry leg?!
I urge you all to pick up a bag of Maltesers immediately, they cure all ills.
This week I have mostly been trying to soothe an angry leg. That’s the best way to explain it, it is mightily pissed off at something. Not sure what. It’s been walked, exercised, dunked in water, massaged, iced and raised but it is still angry.
I even bought it a new pair of shoes, but still its sore, swollen and grouchy.
At the end of last week it was behaving, limp was nearly gone, aches nearly eased and general pain was subsiding. But somewhere along the way we have fallen out again. I think it maybe down to the fact I took it to Chiswick on Monday. Chiswick would make anyone mad. I am taking it back to homeland on Saturday. Perhaps the healing waters of Birmingham will help?
I booked passenger assistance with Chiltern Railways to help me get from Moor Street to Marylebone.
They forgot about me.
I got on the train at Moor Street okay. A bit of a strange look from the guy, who asked ‘do I need the ramp?’ Several answers flew through my brain,
‘No I’m just yanking your chain.’
‘No early April Fools,’
‘No fireman’s lift would be fine.’
But for once I manage to swallow my sarcasm and smile sweetly, nod and the ramp was duly popped up onto the train and off up it I crutch.
I arrive Marylebone. Everyone gets off. No one turns up. Then the cleaners turn up. Still no one.
Thank you Chiltern Railways for leaving me on the train at Marylebone.
Thank you for telling me you forgot and just shrugging your shoulders when I raised this with your team.
Thank you for making it easy for me to book with Virgin Trains next time.
Tomorrow I am going to Birmingham to see some friends. It will be the first time I’ve left the house in three days to travel further than 100 yards to a neighbours. I make it sound like I am going. I will be driven to Birmingham to see friends.
I feel giddy at the thought.
This is how my life has changed, when faced with the prospect of visiting someone’s house my first thoughts now turn to:
1) How many steps are there to get in and out of the house
2) Where’s the toilet
Steps are – to excuse the pun – my Achilles.
In answer to the above, 1) no steps and 2) upstairs
You win some you lose some.
I’m currently fashioning an old Interflora box into a footstool of sorts for the drive over. I can’t take a bag of washing me every time I travel in the car, its just not practical.
I’ve just re-read the headline for this post, if you read it quickly you might think it says ‘Bum Bound’ its ‘Brum’ – just thought I would clarify.