A.patella – diary of an injured body.

So none of you will know that I am injured (well there are some that will, like everyone I have told I'm not allergic to flowers btw!). I have a significant injury to ones knee, the right one in fact. That whole leg incidentally has had a rough time of it in past years.

Leg bashing history:

1983: Aged 7. Incident with Interflora van. Ankle and Shin smashed/crushed/puncture wounds requiring surgery and 10 weeks in plaster

1988: Aged 12. Incident with tree and iron railings. Old monkey boy here decides to free fall from his favoritete oak onto iron railings. Iron railing in at base of knee, out at top of knee. Required fire brigade, small operation and some stitches

1990: Aged 14. Incident with long jump. Running up the long jump runway I decided to hurl my self over and get a spear like (at least 3 ft long) piece of timber from the runway sides stuck under my knee cap (about and inch deep). Required the school nurse to remove the offending splinter, ambulance after passing out, small operation and some more stitches

1992: Aged 16. Verruca

The most recent injury acquired shortly after my 30th was jovially put down as Crepitus. According to the medical dictionary Crepitus [\CreI"i*tus\ (kr?p"?-t?s), n. [L., fr. crepare to crack.] (Med.)] has two meanings:

1. A large fart (The noise produced by a sudden discharge of wind from the bowels.)

2. Busted joints et al (clinical sign, A crinkly, crackling or grating feeling or sound in the joints, skin or lungs. )

Fair play to Dr Quim Mad Woman, the General Practitioner at my local "limp in" centre whose prognosis was so quickly rendered. Given my recent entry into another decade of life AND therefore was no doubt ready for the knackers yard I simply must be suffering from the symptoms of decrepitness (old age) which seemed pretty reasonable at the time.

Sadly, if she had read the same medical dictionary as I have done recently she would have worked out that there was one small flaw in her original prognosis - extreme pain. I find it funny that she failed to notice that one.

Fortunately, my proper GP, Dr Body, is a wiser man. After a week of hobbling around in excruciating pain my emergency appointment arrived. (I think they over book these emergency appointments a week in advance hoping the natural attrition will be just enough to kill off the majority thus not having to have tinconveniencence of too much of a crowd in the waiting room)

I limped into Dr Body's office making fitting "ooh's" and "aaah's" rubbing my knee as I did so.

He asked, "So what's wrong with you?"

"Give me strength!" I thought to myself "you are a Dr. are you not?"

"I't's my head doctor!" I said, "It thinks my knee is bad?!"

He didn't laugh. Instead, he sits me down, then strips me, prods a bit and proclaims waving hands officiously

"Yes!" he pauses "Yes, Yes! Its your knee it's not well is it?"

He's a real Genius this guy and I'm obiously in safe hands :…

"I need to refer you to secondary care"

"Better still your majesty; can I not just go private?"

too which he replied "Of course, ill get on to it immediately"

A week later I get my referral letter to Mr Paul Orthopaedic Registrar and MANCHESTER BUPA. So I'm sat in his office and he reads the letter from Dr Body.

"An injury sustained at Mardi Gras?" Mr Paul says reading the letter aloud "how do you think you managed that?" he enquires

"Well" I say "I have spent nearly 30 years on my knees"

"A ha yes!" says Mr Paul looking quickly back at the letter and tapping his temple.

So to cut a long story short (too late) after some prodding, X-rays, even more prodding, MRI scans and even more prodding still Mr Paul confidently states "Well Mr Sharpe you'll be glad to hear I have absolutely no idea what's wrong with you."

Best £1,200 I've ever spent.

In fairness he has some idea but he’s keeping his cards obviously cloe to his chest ;) So his cunning plan, is to torture me medieval style with 6 weeks of intense Physiotherapy to either as he puts it "aggravate it until I can see the damage on the scan or it gets better"

Incidentally he's saying this he's shaking my hand and already pushing me out the door in preparation for another £170 four minute slot with another willing victim, erm patient. So much for patient care - here's looking forward to Physio.

Now this knee thing is a tad aggravating, in the sense that it precludes you from doing things, like working properly and relaxing. Gladly there are clever people out there who think about these things and I have been able to pick up courtey of ROB [ http://www.rob.nl ] - at the mint price of £22.00 a pair - "Blowjob Pads."

Ordered them I did, online they were, they arrived and I eagerly tore at the wrapping to find knee protectors that one might buy for £4.00 a pair at your local DIY store; what's more depressing is that they aren't even comfy - they chafe.

Just goes to show men are always driven by the dicks! grrr