More Good News

I knew that when i said I had good news 3 and 4 as well, that news 5 wouldn’t probably be quite so good, and I was right.

My Mystery Landlady, whom I’ve never met, and only spoken to on the phone once, wrote me a letter to say she doesn’t want to continue to rent her house to me. Initially I was a bit sad, but what with Good News 1 & 2, I was very up-beat about the whole thing.

2 weeks later, I found a house on-line that Badger & I wanted to view, and so we phoned the Letting Agent on Saturday. The house had gone, but another one, yet to be advertised, had just materialised. Would we look at it? OK, I thought, we might as well start somewhere – so we agreed to view it.

It was fabulous. Having looked round the place for 15 minutes, we knew we wouldn’t find anything half as good. The price of the rent was excellent too. We said we’d have it. Marvellous!! And we can be in there before we leave here, so doubly marvellous.

That was good news 3.

Good news 4 was an informal interview for Badger, which will hopefully lead to a new job for him too, so we’re both feeling rather smug at the moment.

But.

Tuesday afternoon, I walked 3 or 4 steps from my desk, on a completely flat, carpeted, unobstructed floor in flat, sensible shoes and fell heavily on my right knee, and my left foot buckled under me. The pain was fierce and excruciating, and I sat on the floor, with tears in my eyes, holding my foot in place at the end of my leg bones, and tried very very hard not to scream.  

Behind me, where I sat in blind agony, pandemonium was breaking out. Wintnesses were flapping, new arrivals were fussing, and a general debate about What Should We Be Doing? was occuring. If I wasn’t hurting so much, I would have laughed.

“Should we find her a chair that doesn’t move about?” was one of the suggestions. I am not getting up off this floor until I know I won’t faint, was my silent reply.

Eventually, I regained the power of speech, and was able to reassure the gathered masses – my, there are a lot of people her, suddenly – that I knew the drill, and, honestly, as ankle sprains go, this was no major one.

I knew that the pain would subside, and that I would be able to move my foot in careful rotation, without too much trouble. As I did so, I proved to them and me that I hadn’t broken it. As usual, up-down movement was painless and easy…. although, it was unnerving the way it the bones in my foot were clicking, as though they were trying hard to find their little niches again. It didn’t hurt, it just felt unnatural. A wave of hot and darkness came over me, and I decided to lie down on the floor and rest my feet on the reception chair someone had helpfully placed beside me.   

This is amusing, I thought to myself, The First Aider is having to treat herself because none of these well-meaning people have got a clue.

The round, homely face of Beri came into view above my toes. She is the other first-aider in the office, and had brought some ice wrapped in a teatowel to put on my ankle.  There are a two things to know about Beri. One is that she is lovely. Two is that she is absolutely bloody useless. At everything.

She thought the reason I was feeling a little unwell was because my blood sugar had dropped. No, love. I thought, Its shock. Trust me on this. Its not blood sugar that’s dropped, its blood pressure.

“What did you trip over?” was the next question. We looked at the area I’d walked on. It was bare. It was as flat as a billiard table. I hadn’t tripped. My ankle had just given way.

Oh shit. Was all I could think of, sliently. There is no mechanism of injury. My ankle just gave way. This is really not good.

The pain had stopped, and so (in the main) had the clicking. I suddenly reaised how much my right knee was stinging. I rolled up my trouser leg to reveal a friction-burn, about the size of a £2 coin on my knee-cap. A combination of my polyester trousers and the corrogated-effect industrial carpet had done the damage. Owww it was sore!

Anyway, I called Badger to come and get me, finished a letter, issued instructions to my staff, and escaped, hobbling, to the car.

Not good news. The Physio tells me I need surgery. Ankles do not just give way.

Damn.

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2 Responses to “More Good News”


  1. 1 hoverfrog 18 May 2007 at 10:15 am

    Surgery! Are you sure you weren’t tripped? You know by a disgruntled soon to be ex boss.

  2. 2 Katja 18 May 2007 at 7:15 pm

    Ow ow ow ow ow. You poor thing – ankles bloody hurt when they go. Still, great news about the house 😀


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