A wave of pain shot out from my leg as I manfully swung it out of bed.
I looked down at it in perplexelment. Using my legs doesn't normally cause me to squeal like a piggy on its wedding night to Cotton Eye Joe and yet that is what I was doing.
What in the name of all the fucks?
My knee, normally a slightly nobbly yet handsome thing that joins various parts of my legs together was all red and swollen looking. Gingerly, I placed my hand against it.
It was as hot as a badger's boaby.
What the hell could have happened? I had been fine when I had gone to bed and last night wasn't one of my dress in spandex and sneak out of the attic window on the hunt for crime kind of nights?
I gently put my foot down on the floor and tried to stand on it.
Somehow, I managed to stand despite an oceanic tsunami of pain that flung itself over me.
Fucking hell, this was outrageous. How was a man to be a man if he couldn't even stand steady to cuff his lessers with a mighty iron hand?
I wobbled unsteadily trying to fight the pain. Holy shit, what was going on. Frantically I had a quick check of the downstairs lounge to make sure it hadn't been replaced by a worn and leathery old vagina.
Everything was still as it should be.
Nonetheless, something was squiffy?
Somehow, I managed to half drag/half fall downstairs to the lounge where I phoned the Doctor.
The lady who answered advised me that due to COVID, appointments were all telephone-based now and asked me to mail some pictures to her in advance of the call.
Mopping the pain sweat from my brow I attempted to arrange myself in several artistic yet sexy poses on the floor in which you could see my swollen knee and a reasonable slice of thigh from different angles.
Despite my newly acquired pain and disability, my photos must have struck a chord as in no time whatsoever the Doctor called me.
Hello, is that meesterboom?
A lady-voice purred.
I tried not to gasp as I replied.
Ah, good. Now, you said in your mail that you had no recollection of injuring your knee?
Yes, it was fine then it wasn't.
Ah. Right, Well, the thing is, given your age, I am going to have to ask you to attend the local hospital right away. As in, within the next hour? Can you manage that or do I have to arrange transport?
She sounded a little terse. As if something serious were in the wind.
I jutted my lower jaw out.
Did she just say given my age?!? The cheeky mare. Had they confused me with someone else?
Alas no and so I found myself in the Acute receiving ward in the local hospital.
An old woman with sore looking squeakers grumpily took my blood pressure then bade me sit in a wheelchair.
With the greatest of self-restraint I managed not to strike her with the bahk of mah hahn as they say in Norn Iron.
I was wheeled to a young chap of a Doctor fellow who got me to pull down my trousers before measuring the circumference of my calves for some nonsensical reason.
Even in my pain-maddened crippled state, I hoped he wasn't getting a stiffy.
A nurse bustled in and jabbed my arm with a blade before siphoning off a wodge of my blood.
Excuse me? Um, I just have a sore knee, what is all this for?
I waved my hand at the nurse bent over me (and no, not in a good way) and at the Doctor himself who was peering at a chart and comparing numbers on it.
The young doctor looked up.
Oh. Sorry, I thought someone might have said. You see, when you get to a certain age and you have an unexplained swelling in your leg we have to check for blood clots. It's the most logical explanation. So we run a series of tests on your blood to make sure you are not at risk of a stroke or blood clot formation.
He tilted his head to the side sympathetically as if he were a cat pretending it wasn't a stone-cold killah of small things.
If we catch it early you are in good hands.
My clotty blood froze.
Catch it early?
I asked faintly.
He patted me on the shoulder as if we were Dutch Sailors from the 17th century looking out at a sea of Dodos on the fair isle of Mauritius.
Let's wait till the results come back, hmm?
He wandered off to wherever Doctor's go in between scaring people to death.
I sat in the room they had left me in and tapped out a self-pitying WhatsApp message to the Good Lady. I attempted to send it only to see that there was no signal whatsoever.
I was in a dead zone.
Some hours later the Doctor popped in.
Hey hey! Guess what? Everything came back clear! In fact, ridiculously so. The most important one was negative so it looks like you can go home!
I glared at him.
Erm, what about my knee then, it's really fucking painful and giant and red?
Chuckles the Doctor Man glanced at it.
Ach, it's probably some delayed onset musculoskeletal thing. Here, I will write you a prescription for some stuff to take.
And with that, he was gone.
And so here I am. It's a bloody mystery how it happened!!
I finished relating my incredible tale to the Good Lady from the comfort of my armchair, my leg raised and an ice-pack perched upon my knee.
The Good Lady raised an eyebrow.
It's not really a mystery though, is it? Don't you remember yesterday when you fell up the stairs and said it was 'as sore as fuck'
I frowned deeply at her. Was she mental?
My dear lady, you must be mistaken. A man such as myself does not simply fall up the stairs.
I barked out a comedy laugh.
Oh but you did, remember? You howled like a banshee and when I asked if you were ok said that it was as sore as fuck but you were fine because you were a man. HA, I can't believe you forgot that!
I laughed coldly along with her.
She had obviously become insane. Hmmph. I would play along with her madness.