Lisa mentioned to me a couple of weeks ago that she fancied playing badminton on a Sunday one day. I promised her that, because she has a busy schedule, I’d harrass her in to finally agreeing a day to get it done.
This morning I texted her and asked if she fancied playing today. A couple of texts sent in the week had been ignored and in all honesty I wasn’t expecting her to reply today, but my phone beeped fairly quickly and we’d soon arranged to meet at 5pm at the local leisure centre in Chelmsford.
I hadn’t played badminton one on one for a very long time. Normally I play with Tasha and James, meaning that all three of us get to play alone against two others and then as part of a pairing, meaning you get some kind of a rest. The first game went by in about 15 minutes, and although it was a fairly one-sided affair in my favour, it was fairly close in terms of gameplay and I enjoyed it.
Halfway through the second game, which was a closer affair, Lisa hit a long shot towards the back of the court. I had been positioned at the net following a short return, and so I turned quickly and sprinted to the back of the court to play back the shot. Unfortunately as I got to the right place to reach the shuttlecock, I turned my right ankle over and hit the floor.
Lisa came over, concerned at what had happened. My ankle was throbbing and I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to walk on it.
"Try to walk it off, that may help." Suggested Lisa, and gave me a hand to get up.
Unfortunately though, in an effort to protect my right ankle I put all of my weight on my left leg, and almost instantly i collapsed to the floor again, this time my right knee was locked.
Lisa was obviously close at hand and, after later admitting that she heard my knee crack in a similar sound to that of when her ex-husband broke his leg, she ran off faster than I think I have ever seen her move to get some help from reception.
I sat there with my leg locked at an angle. I could just about move my foot, but there was a tightness about the front of the knee, and a dull pain at the back.
The first aid lady came back with Lisa, and was not the cute receptionist that I’d been hoping for. That said, she seemed fairly concerned and soon I had an ice pack against the back of my knee. The general concensus between the two girls was that I had damaged a ligament. using a fairly rudimentary form of questioning, the first aider established that the popping sound that Lisa had heard (and had actually described as a cracking sound) was my ligament going, and a trip to A&E was soon being discussed, and a wheelchair ordered.
Despite my protestations that I didn’t believe it was my ligament, due to a distinct lack of pain, and then my further embarrassment at the thought of being wheeled out in a wheelchair, I was told that it was for the best for me to go easily, and that ligament damage would mean weeks, if not months, of what sounded like immobility (ie,. no driving!)
No sooner had the first aider requested a wheelchair on her walkie talkie, I felt a sudden movement in my knee, which I can only liken to feeling like my kneecap had shifted a couple of inches back in to place (possibly a bad likening and I’m sure it wasn’t my kneecap that was the problem). A split second of pain, followed by a couple of seconds of wondering what the Hell had happened and I tried moving my leg.
"Something just clicked back into place," I said, slowly straightening my leg, "and I think I’m ok." Lisa looked shocked. The first aider also looked shocked, buy sounded pissed off.
"We’ve had a MIRACULOUS recovery!" she said sarcastically into the walkie talkie.
Now I’m sitting at home, my right ankle is slightly swollen and sore, my left knee is tender and I’m reluctant to put too much weight on it for fear of it giving way again. I also have no car, as it was left in the car park of the leisure centre - somewhere I’m not sure where it’ll still be tomorrow. There’s a notice in the window saying what’s happened, but I am afraid that the car will be broken in to or vandalised. Hey ho. Hopefully the knee will be ok and I’ll be able to collect the car in the morning.
The worst bit of it all though? When the first aider was filling in the accident form and asked how it had happened, and I’d explained that I’d fallen trying to play a shot, she said: "Ok, I’ll just put down here that you was chasing a cock…"
The thing is that she said it without a hint of irony or sarcasm! Cheeky bitch.