How I wish my latest reason for actually writing something in this blog wasn’t so painfully personal. I’d much rather be slagging off Donald Trump, or raving about a new Gwar album, or chronicling my successes and failures with women… but no, instead I must report an injury that, at least for a short time, might make it hard for me to do the things that I enjoy.
I didn’t report it here, and indeed I’m not sure of the exact date, but back in January 2013 I managed to stumble while running down the stairs at Mornington Crescent station after work, and rolled on my left ankle; although it ached for a long time afterwards (especially while sitting down in that crowded minibus during my American odyssey — many times I staggered out at a rest stop!), it didn’t stop me going climbing, I was able to take up personal training a couple of months later, and above all I didn’t need to take any time off work.
Compare and contrast with yesterday, when a stupid misstep coming down the stairs at work (somehow I forgot the mezzanine bit of the staircase has steps as well) meant I came down heavily on my right ankle, although it only really began to hurt after I’d returned home — and then to the point that I couldn’t even walk across my room, and instead had to either hop or crawl. I was in pain, without any painkillers to hand, and I could barely flex my toes or move my foot around… yet somehow I still had to put my washing out!
Fortunately, after a
good adequate barely tolerable night’s sleep (no, not the pain so much as the heat combined with nearby emergency roadworks), my ankle’s been feeling somewhat better; I was thus able to hobble up the street to the doctor’s and get it examined by a professional. She reckoned it’s a torn ligament, which should heal on its own as long as I don’t overburden it, but she sent me for an X-ray just in case I fractured a bone as well. My old enemy from last year, ibuprofen, has helped me so far as well (I’ve not felt that same level of depression as before, which is a relief). I should be able to go to work tomorrow, and maybe even see my personal trainer on Friday (as long as he focuses on my arms)… but I had to miss out on climbing tonight, and it’s weeks since I last went to the Castle to climb.
It really struck me that if I have to hobble everywhere, or even stay off my feet completely in the short or long term, I won’t be able to do a lot of things I enjoy — not just climbing and personal training, but running up and down the stairs enthusiastically at work as I rush around trying to fix everyone’s computers. Hell, even my daily walks to and from work (currently accompanied by a medley of Gwar and Iron Maiden songs) make me happy, rain notwithstanding — and the only way to shorten my walk would be to travel to Oxford Circus, which would mean squeezing onto the ever-crowded Victoria Line, and this would hardly be any better for my ankle (and definitely worse for my sanity).
When I hurt my left ankle in 2013, I probably should have stayed off it a bit longer, as many times I’d feel serious pain (almost like an electric shock) coming down too hard on it while climbing; memories of that experience convince me to be extra-careful with this one now, and not put it through too much too soon, as I can’t bounce back as well as I could when I was 35 (ahem). As it happens, I need to take a holiday from work anyway, in order to use up some annual leave (and hey, my backlog of video games won’t play themselves!), so this might be an opportunity to rest and recuperate.
My mother had to do just that two years ago after twisting her ankle (much worse than I did) in an endurance race, and she hated it; I may not be as active as her, and sitting down playing games and watching TV certainly appeal to me, but it’s not the only stuff I want to do with my life, at least not any more. However, one extra step and I might have been in a cast, or worse, a wheelchair, so I’d better take care of my ankles, otherwise I won’t have a leg to stand on…
(Ha ha ha… no? Oh, please yourselves!)