At some point in our lives, we’re going to experience an injury, it could be bad luck that causes this or a stupid choice and the nature of severity, can range from a dislocated finger to a broken leg, the human body is a fragile thing and it’s only when it doesn’t work properly that we really appreciate it. If you play any sort of sport, you can expect the risk to be higher, something like rugby or ju-jitsu are obviously up there, though in true rugby style people play on with all sorts of life changing problems, splintered bone poking out of your upper arm? quick bandage up, slap on the back and told to catch the ball with your other, at least till half time. You come to expect issues with sports like this, the broken noses pile up in hockey and it’s no surprise when someone takes a studded foot to the knee while playing football, but there are some sports and past times where the injury risk is very minimal.
Swimming is one, the worst you’d think could happen would be slipping on the wet floor, or maybe poking yourself in the eye, with an overenthusiastic breast stroke, the last thing you’d expect when getting in the water, is climbing out in agony with a torn shoulder, well that’s what happened to me. It was Wednesday 10th July last year, I remember it well, England were playing Holland in the Euro semi final, kick off was 8pm, so I went swimming at 5.30, plenty of time to get my length’s in and watch the game. What I do is swim ten lengths, then walk ten, it’s amazing how much better my legs work in the water, as I’m doing an on line challenge, I keep a careful count of how many I’ve achieved, in your average pool, 65 length’s is a mile , so at the end, I usually only do a couple of each. I was getting close and on this occasion, had five left to swim and five to walk. I was just having a rest when I heard behind me a voice best described as raspy, confrontational and vile.
I looked round to see a rather large lady, who I would describe as being an inch out of square, waddling across the tiled floor, propping up her frame with a single crutch. (This term was used by a friend of mine to describe a person who is almost as wide as they are tall, no political correctness in the 70’s thank god, or here). As she reached the steps into the pool, there was a walking aid a disabled lady had left nearby, “Who’s is this?” she enquired, before kicking it out of the way and continuing her tirade, “Shouldn’t be left here blocking up the steps”, a short exchange ensued with the disabled lady in the pool who of course lost the debate, I thought this was a good time to start my last few laps and get out. As I swam back on my second lap, gobby was having a go at another swimmer, no idea why and I thought it best to mind my own business. As I began lap three, the vile creature joined my lane and swam behind me, I could hear her shouting and swearing at others in the pool, nearly there I thought as I reached the end of the fifth, I stood up and began to walk down the lane. I’m sure you know how lane swimming works, everyone swims(or walks) in either a clockwise or anti clockwise way round, depending on what the sign on the edge of the pool states, until now, she’d been following procedure, but as I turned at the the end of my first walking lap, she had changed route and was swimming toward me. Looking back, she clearly saw this as a weakness when I began walking and must have decided to pick on me next, “excuse me”, I said, in my politest voice, “You have to go the other way”, “Yes, I f****g know” she snarled, oh I thought, game on.
In my head I told myself that when I turned for the third lap, if she’s swimming the opposite way, then clearly I have to deal with this in the same council estate confrontation that she’s used to and the only one the fat lump will understand. (Being a fat lump myself, it’s fine to use this as a description). Needless to say, she was of course swimming toward me so, in the only way it was going to sink in, I told her to move her large frame out of my way, because the last thing my poor knackered hips needed, was Moby Dick smashing into them. She wasn’t budging, so with my right arm, I pushed her to the side, the problem being, I really didn’t allow for the fact that she wasn’t floating and her chubby legs were actually walking on the bottom, while she pretended to swim. As I moved her out of my way, something happened in my shoulder and the pain was immediate, which in turn contributed in shutting the big bully down and made sure that she wasn’t going to be intimidating anyone else in the pool, I told the life guards they should have dealt with her earlier and they apologised, perhaps if they had I wouldn’t have a knackered shoulder. I did learn a few weeks later that her membership was revoked due to other complaints, but that hasn’t done anything to help me
I couldn’t swim for twelve weeks, mostly because I wasn’t able to raise my arm more than 12 inches and had to learn to scratch my arse with the left, among other things. During a lunchtime drinking session a good friend persuaded me to allow him to try and fix it, had I known what the damage was I’d have told him to sod off, even after a few pints, the pain was horrendous, but thanks to him, with assistance from my left arm, I was able to finally lift the knackered one above my head. Eventually I got a scan a couple of months later and was told then that I’d torn it, which meant the next stage was a consultation with a surgeon. Surprisingly it came very quick and I literally went last week, the letter said to expect a two hour wait so on entering the hospital, I decided to stock up for the expected endurance. A quick trip to the canteen for a cup of tea and sausage butty was first thing on the agenda, this should keep me going, I didn’t really have time to eat and drink them there and nor did I want to, they were to be savoured while sitting in the chair, waiting to be seen. I managed to wedge the tea, which of course had a lid, in my coat pocket with the sandwich and after going up in the lift to orthopaedics, I was asked to take a seat, which I chose very carefully next to the radiator, not for the heat, but somewhere to put the cup. Rather smugly I took a sip then removed the sandwich from the bag and tore it in half, I was just about to take a bite when my name was called, “Er, yes” I enquired, would you believe, I had to go downstairs for an x ray, flipping heck, lid back on, sandwich in bag and both jammed back in my pocket.
On reaching the x ray area, I was again asked to take a seat, this time, I spotted an extra high chair, much easier for me to sit in, though sadly nowhere to put my cup, never mind I thought and again decanted both out of my jacket. I swear, I’d again just took a sip and was about to have a bite when a guy appeared and called my name, what the frig is happening I thought, this is not normal, I stood up, a bit flustered, aware that the man was waiting for me and most of the others in the waiting area were watching, sandwich back in the bag, I tried to put the lid on the cup, but in my haste, spilt some on the chair, shit, what should I do? It didn’t look like anyone had noticed and he seemed to be getting impatient, sod it I thought and limped around the chairs, leaving my spilt tea slowly dribbling across the seat. He took me round the corner to a different waiting area, surely this will take a while I thought and took them both out again, balancing in my hands, I had a sip of tea and finally a bite of the sandwich, I swear, I’d taken three chews when my name was called again, they’re taking the piss, this time in my haste to put them away, I squeezed the lid and some tea spilled out into my pocket, making the sandwich a bit soggy, great.
The x ray was as quick as the wait time and I found myself walking back to the area where’d I’d spilled the tea, glancing across I noticed the chair was still wet, come on I thought, do the right thing, so I went into the toilet which was right next to it and pulled off a big piece of paper towel. As I walked out, there was a guy on crutches just sitting down on the chair obviously oblivious to the wet patch, oh well, the intention was there, hope no one notices as he gets up for his x ray. On the way back up to the consultant I managed to drink most of the tea and ate one half of the sandwich, wasn’t too bad to say it was wet, I’ll have the other half when I’m sat back down I thought, no way will I be getting straight in now, this is where the long wait begins. How wrong I was, stepping out of the lift, a nurse appeared and took me straight in to see the consultant, every cloud I thought, might as well take it home and put the remaining sausage in a slice of dry bread.
I shouldn’t complain really, it was defiantly the best service I’d ever had at the hospital and it was about to get better. Having an operation on the shoulder is not really an option she told me, you couldn’t use your walking sticks for twelve weeks and it might not work after anyway. Basically the consultant said that physio and an injection would be the best option and worse case scenario, it will never repair, but the pain should ease and it might work. Wait a minute I hear you say, thought there was good news? Well there is, she pulled up my hip X ray from four years ago on the computer and said something on the lines of, “Jesus, they were knackered then, I can only imagine how bad they are now”, then I got the good news. “They dropped the weight issue in December, so I’m going to write to your GP and tell him to put you back on the list”. Obviously it’s not good practise to kiss the consultant, so I just imagined it, I couldn’t thank her enough, She’d switched on the torch at the end of the tunnel and while it might be dim, I could see it. Yes, there’s still weight to lose and I will, but the suggested BMI was fifteen and a half stone, I haven’t been that since I was fifteen and a half. I got to seventeen and a half stone before covid, so this is now within reach, I just hope her suggested physio and injection on the shoulder works, if not, there’s a fat lump somewhere, who if she reads this, will be laughing her huge tits off.
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