After a couple of hours at A&E last night I was seen by a nurse. She filled in a form, looked at my knee "Oh it doesn’t look swollen", asked me to extend it out straight, tried moving it left and right, prodded it, poked it and then said "Well it doesn’t look like there’s too much wrong with it."
I swear she was stifling a yawn as she said it. I guess life in the NHS isn’t as cut and thrust as she hoped.
I explained again that, no, there wasn’t any pain now, save for the nagging bruising sensation, but that what preceded it was fairly extreme and that she wouldn’t have been able to touch me at all, let alone prod me around the knee.
She explained that she was going to refer me to the Acute Knee Injury Service team and that they’d have more of an idea what was going on with the knee. That’s all fine, but the first available appointment was 3rd November, which means I have another month to spend wondering whether the knee will go again.
I’m not moaning (for once) as I know it takes time to get seen, I’m just disappointed that I couldn’t get things sorted straight away.
It brings back the whole thought about having to lose weight again. As Steve commented on the last blog, being a salad dodger isn’t the best thing, and is hardly going to be any easier on a dodgy knee. Bugger it, I guess I need to diet.