I saw the Consultant.
In the distance.
He saw me.
From a distance.
I saw his registrar.
A new one.
Let's start from the beginning, he said.
I am losing the will to live.
I am starting to wonder if I am losing my mind. They don't know why it isn't getting any better. They are talking about scopes to see what is happening in the knee. And will clean it out if there is anything there. When? In a few weeks. They will write to me.
What do I do then? Rest and take painkilliers. Work is not thrilled. I am not thrilled. I sat in the car on the way back and said to my friend - am I imagining all of this? Is it real? Does it really hurt? Am I having a nervous breakdown? Is it all psychosomatic?
Then last night I took measurements of my knees again, and I took photos. They are hideous. It is swollen and mis-shapen. And hideous. But hey, that knee is not right. Not at all.
I am not going mad.