The saga of the lower limb injury reaches, what I hope, is its climax. I went to visit the physio on Thursday, to see if he could manipulate my muscles/tendons and give me some relief from the strains of the Lake District and help my recalcitrant limb back to health.
He's a lovely fellow, my phsyio, and really knows what he's doing. So when he stood back, regarded my hoof and told me that it was indeed swollen, and asked why didn't I go and see him when I first injured it, I took him seriously. He prodded, gently (which was a bit of a surprise - normally he's quite gung ho with my extremities) and told me to go and visit my GP to request a referral for an x-ray. In his opinion I could have a stress fracture.
So, Friday was spent in the clutches of the NHS. First I had to undergo the scramble to get an appointment at the GP - you can't make one in advance unless you're willing to anticipate your need by about six weeks - and then to the hospital.
Now, as a good researcher, I'd googled stress fractures, and was prepared to be told that nothing showed on the x-ray, and that I should go home and rest. According to the items on the web that I'd found, it is unusual to be able to see a stress fracture on an x-ray - unless it's fairly severe. So, I was thunderstruck when the radiologist (who was seriously cute...), came to tell me that there is a clear fracture on my lower leg, and that he was taking me down to A&E. Another two hour wait in A&E, to have that diagnosis confirmed, given an appointment with the Fracture Clinic, and a pair of crutches later, and I was sent home. Miserable, depressed, and particularly pissed off. It looks as though I'm going to be out of action for about 6-8 weeks.
So, I'm cheering myself up by writing emails of complaint to Tesco. I find it strangely soothing to tell one of the great Retail giants exactly what I think of them. It's a hobby....