Tales of Injury 3: The Final Woundings

1996 - Broken Leg So, I was trying to get home early, so I could do my paper round. I splashed out 35p on the bus (those were the days) and went to cross the road. There are dual roundabouts at Meir Heath crossing, there is a Lollipop lady who crosses people over the island between the two. I crossed over the first half without any trouble at all. The Lollipop lady then stops a juggernaut lorry for the second half and then moves toward the 2nd lane. I confidently follow her into the road, and assuming that all traffic has stopped, stride toward the 2nd lane. But I step ahead of her. A Volvo, not seeing either of us because of the lorry, drives past. I walked into the side of it as it’s passing by me. My left leg strikes it, I spin on my right leg and fall onto the ground. I don’t know that I’m seriously hurt, so I try stand up.

That hurt.

I have broken my leg and dislocated my ankle. At hospital, they plan to snap my leg back together. They put me under, but discover a broken piece of bone in the way, so they remove it. I later discover my body's complete aversion to anaesthetic and spend the whole next day vomiting. When the police came to get a statement from me, they noted that there was absolutely no mark on the car whatsoever, not even in the dirt. I didn’t stand a chance.

2004 - The Mystery Hernia I don’t know how I got a hernia. Maybe it was from hulking cripplingly heavy suitcases to the station that Christmas and stubbornly not taking a taxi because it was only ten minutes walk. There was no moment when I was in agony. I first noticed the injury while playing car ball ( A game where you try to throw a football into the open windows of car as it drives around in a circle. On getting a ball in a window, you get to sit in the car to defend it) when I felt a pulled muscle sensation above my groin.

So, I visited a doctor in March, who said I’d probably got a hernia. He made an appointment for me to visit a specialist. The appointment came through in June, where a specialist confirmed it was a hernia, but because I was finishing University that week, I couldn’t have an operation scheduled. So I arranged to see a Doctor back in glorious Stoke, who reiterated that I did indeed have a hernia. So he arranged for me to see a specialist who, in September, told me once again that I had a hernia, and put me on the waiting list for an operation. I got this appointment the following February with 7 days notice; they have to treat within 6 months, so they had to clear the list and if I couldn’t make it, I might have to wait another 6 months, I had a ticket booked to London for that day, but that’s another long and irritating story. I didn’t like the anaesthetic any more then than the previous op.

If anybody any suggestion about what I should write about in future, please feel free to suggest.