Joined the NSAIDs Club

After finally admitting to myself that the ankle wasn't getting better, I went to see the physio this morning. Poke... ow!... poke... ow!... poke... ow! And the verdict: I have a level 2 ligament tear - 50%-80% of the ligament is torn, and I'm not allowed to do any weight-bearing exercise for 6-8 weeks.

6-8 WEEKS?!!!!

He asked if I was a "sporty type", and I mumbled yeah (thinking that if it wasn't obvious, then perhaps I wasn't!). So then he said that this must be killing me, right? Oh, yeah, too right! I can feel my fitness slipping by the minute. I'm not even allowed to walk any more than necessary for another 2 weeks.

At one point he said "tough lady". Nah, not tough... feeling a bit fragile right now.

He wrote a note to my GP recommending a prescription for some potent anti-inflamatories (and we both wished that physios can prescribe) which I took up the road to my medical centre. The receptionist wasn't exactly rude... more just very blunt and uncaring. It was going to cost me $50 to see a GP and get a piece of paper. So I went next door to the pharmacist and asked what I could get without a scrip. During our conversation, I started to cry. I guess all the stress and emotion of the last week, plus the attitude of the receptionist, all became too much. I managed to stumble away with some Voltaren Rapid-25, and drove to a local park where I bawled my eyes out for the next half an hour.