Friday past, it was time for me to visit hospital once again. Seven weeks have passed since I fractured my ankle and I had no idea what was in store, meaning I was rather anxious.
Initially, on my arrival I was sent for a couple of x-rays. They would give the consultant all the information she needed to hopefully set me free of my cast.
The orthopaedic clinic, waiting-room was jam-packed with people of all ages, from schoolboys to great-grandparents. Their injuries varied from fractured ankles, legs, wrists, spines and ruptured knees.
Long waiting times at these out-patient clinics are to be expected and the strangers you find yourself sitting beside, or opposite can easily become short-term acquaintances.
Friday was no different and a chap fitted with a back brace was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. For the next two hours stories were exchanged of how injuries occurred. Some of the stories were on the tall side and laughs were raised. Others, were possibly too graphic and gasps of astonishment reverberated around the room.
The thing that was clearly obvious was that the power of storytelling brings people together, whatever misfortune they are faced with.
P.S.
Cast off and this boot is made for walking! Yippee!
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