onionbagblog
Knee-capped
And so after an incorrect diagnosis of a ruptured cruciate ligament, physiotherapy over a five year period, a private (and costly) consultation with a specialist, a private (and costly) MRI scan, a further private (and costly) consultation with the specialist, a couple of visits to the good Dr Singh of St Reatham and finally a consultation with an NHS knee specialist on Tuesday morning, the diagnosis is:
'Yep, yer knee's knackered.'
Cheers, Doc.
Which is exactly what the good Dr Singh of St Reatham came up with some five years ago.
The solution? If it 'aint broke, don't fix it. It's not brain surgery.
My knee may be knackered, but it 'aint broke. Surgery may complicate the situation. I have no interest in playing football ever again. Spending my spare time being sworn at by alpha males who have anger management problems is not my idea of fun.
I'm finished with road running. Pounding the pavements of Clap'ham has limited appeal after more than a decade of doing the onionbagblog half marathon every Saturday and Sunday morning. How do you think the knee got knackered in the first place?
Circuit training: kiss myass knackered knee.
Nope, swimming and cycling it is (although my heart missed a beat when the NHS knee cutter suggested that I limit my cycling exploits.)
No knee operation, just a constant click whenever I shake a leg. Which 'aint very often these days. It's known as ageing.
Click - it's all falling into place.
Elsewhere around the hospital and I was pleased to read in the Guy's & St Thomas's Trust magazine a '60 second guide to amnesia' - QUICK! Before you forget! There was a 'spotlight on insomnia.' Here's hoping it wasn't a bright spotlight. You'll never get to sleep with that on. Oh, and apparently 'flatulence is often known as blowing off.'
I'm pleased I've got that one out of my system.
technorati: knackered knee
| Tuesday 16 September, 2008 |
And so after an incorrect diagnosis of a ruptured cruciate ligament, physiotherapy over a five year period, a private (and costly) consultation with a specialist, a private (and costly) MRI scan, a further private (and costly) consultation with the specialist, a couple of visits to the good Dr Singh of St Reatham and finally a consultation with an NHS knee specialist on Tuesday morning, the diagnosis is:
'Yep, yer knee's knackered.'
Cheers, Doc.
Which is exactly what the good Dr Singh of St Reatham came up with some five years ago.
The solution? If it 'aint broke, don't fix it. It's not brain surgery.
My knee may be knackered, but it 'aint broke. Surgery may complicate the situation. I have no interest in playing football ever again. Spending my spare time being sworn at by alpha males who have anger management problems is not my idea of fun.
I'm finished with road running. Pounding the pavements of Clap'ham has limited appeal after more than a decade of doing the onionbagblog half marathon every Saturday and Sunday morning. How do you think the knee got knackered in the first place?
Circuit training: kiss my
Nope, swimming and cycling it is (although my heart missed a beat when the NHS knee cutter suggested that I limit my cycling exploits.)
No knee operation, just a constant click whenever I shake a leg. Which 'aint very often these days. It's known as ageing.
Click - it's all falling into place.
Elsewhere around the hospital and I was pleased to read in the Guy's & St Thomas's Trust magazine a '60 second guide to amnesia' - QUICK! Before you forget! There was a 'spotlight on insomnia.' Here's hoping it wasn't a bright spotlight. You'll never get to sleep with that on. Oh, and apparently 'flatulence is often known as blowing off.'
I'm pleased I've got that one out of my system.
technorati: knackered knee
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