In the dark of the night when the cramping in my right leg keeps me awake I find myself imagining all kind of terrible outcomes. I'm an optimistic old stick when the sun shines but the wee small hours are quite a different matter. The best I can wish for is a blood clot, hope I can get to the hospital before I take a stroke. The worst is, of course, cancer. Morning comes, I hop out of bed, gingerly put my foot to the floor and all is well. I can practically hop, skip and dance. The day wears on, the knee starts to ache, I start to limp and by evening it's the hip and by bedtime shin, ankle and thigh muscles are gowpin.* Paracetamol (and sometimes wine) takes care of the pain but the cramps do not ease.
Eventually, more than six weeks after the initial injury, I saw the doctor. She examined it thoroughly and pronounced it tendonitis. Says she suffers from it herself because she likes to run. Said I ought to rest more, said she ought to rest a bit more herself. We agreed it wasn't easy. I got Ibufren, a stomach pill to help me take Ibufren and a lotion. The latter two are medicines that Pearlie takes. Now we are practically twins! Twin crocks.
But I'm happier now. No more night time hypochondria. I just have to take a bit more care of myself to be able to get into this tree house. It's not quite finished yet but that isn't stopping us from picking the furniture.
A photo taken last Sunday by Hannah Banana.
And just to prove that I am actually aware of what goes on outside Cully here is a photograph of President Obama leaving Northern Ireland, taken today by my friend Brian.
* gowpin - adjective, from Ulster-Scots - throbbing with pain.