still sore

The doctor did tell me to come back if it got worse but I can’t really tell. I woke up this morning because I rolled over in my sleep and it was excruciatingly painful but I hadn’t taken any painkillers for six hours. I can’t tell from the outside whether it looks worse or not and now the painkillers have kicked in again.

To look at, it’s a smooth area, like a gently rounded hill, without all the usual undulations people normally expect of knees. It’s bigger than the other one and a rather attractive  dusky rose colour. Shiny, not matte. I poked it tentatively to find out ‘Holy hell, that hurts!’ and was interested to see that my finger left a slowly filling-back-in dent.

Dispassionately (the painkillers), it looks, well, interesting. Would I reccomend to somebody else that they go back to the doctor, if it were their leg? Well, yes. But my decision is coloured a bit by the fact that I know he will want to stick needles into it and I am an abject coward. Yes, he will give me local anaesthetic but having a very sharp needle stuck in numerous places, just for the anaesthetic, into an already hurtie knee is not fun. It looks a bit like a balloon that might pop, too, and I always hated the sound and sight of that at children’s birthday parties.

Plus which, he might send me to hospital and I can’t drive there, can’t afford an ambulance or a taxi and there isn’t anybody to take me. And I do have an appointment tomorrow. And nobody dies of advanced sepsis in 24 hours. Mine isn’t even advanced, according to google images. (Note to self: stay away from google images)

I am passive aggressively making my decision, I think, by not calling up the doctor’s rooms for an appointment until I know that there won’t be any left. The thing is, I don’t know how many of these symptoms are real and how many of them are just appearing because I now know that they are symptoms of sepsis. Like the fever thing. And the heat in the knee thing. The mind is a powerful tool and mine is more fucked up than most people’s.

When it comes down to it, I think the real reason I avoid seeking medical care is because I am extremely paranoid about being seen as a Munchhausen Syndrome person. Or worse still, a drug seeker. I am aware that this isn’t a healthy way to approach it but I want to see litres of pus trickling out of my leg or at least a very high fever. Something tangible and unmistakeable.


But the tipping factor in why I have ultimately decided that it isn’t worse, and therefore I don’t have to go back in as an urgent case? My legs are hairy and my kneecap looks like a lump of raw pork with bristles still attached. Not fair to inflict that on the poor doctor.


About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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