Emergency knee surgery is not exactly how I had envisaged ending off 2011...
To give you a bit of the backstory on this, after just having moved to London in 2007, I managed to fall down an escalator (ok, to be totally truthful I fell up the escalator, but that is just too long a story) in H&M on Oxford street. The edge of the escalator stair went through my knee, and also my favorite pair of jeans, and I ended up bleeding all the way home in the tube.
We went to a wedding on Saturday evening, and spent a bit of time ripping it up on the dance floor, as you do. And then I sat down. And noticed that my knee was a rather unnatural pointy shape. Having never actually had my knee seen to (maybe not the smartest idea ever, but that NHS is too damn scary) it's probably been a long time coming.
So tomorrow I'm off for x-rays and to see some special knee man who is definitely not on the NHS. Here's hoping that his prognosis isn't that I will be spending my December holiday hobbling around on the beach on crutches, chasing after a baby who is just learning to crawl.
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