This last week has been one of the most frustrating since I started running many, many moons ago. However, as I’ve promissed, each time that I find my head tilting forward, I raise my chin again so that I can look ahead rather than lingering on current difficulties. In fairness to myself, a lot of my frustration this week has been driven by problems I’ve encountered in addition to my crocked leg – rather than with the actual crocked leg itself. Having endured nearly two weeks of fairly intense and worsening pain in my left shin, I went for a CAT scan in the Galway Clinic on Thursday last. In my naivety, I was full of hope that I’d find out at last what I was dealing with. Unfortunately, I have to say that it was a fairly crappy experience.
The scan itself is very expensive (Euro 390). I know, I know – Irish private medicine is super-expensive and I should know that by now. It’s the Irish way of doing things apparently. However, having to walk past the clearly sign-posted, ‘Consultants Carpark’, on the way in to the private hospital, which of course was full to the brim with super-expensive looking shiny cars, really doesn’t help to soften the blow of the high prices. I suppose that some of these chaps and ‘chapesses’ started off medical college with ideas of ‘healing’ the world, but somehow got diverted into the BMW showroom along the way.
Once inside the clinic, I was quickly and efficiently separated from my cash and asked to take a seat. Having arranged to be the first appointment on the list that morning, I was hopeful that I would be seen on time and that I could get into work as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, a half an hour later, I was still gazing blankly at the TV screen on the opposite wall, which had the sound helpfully turned off . Sky News is crap with the sound turned on. When I was invited inside for the scan all went quickly and smoothly – although absolutely no reference was made to the reason for the late start. When I asked for a copy of the scan to take away with me they said that of course it would be possible – if I called back to the hospital to collect it a couple of hours later.
Part of the fat fee for the CAT scan was for interpreting the scan result. I was told that the report would be sent to my local doctor within a day or so. Unfortunately, both my regular doc and my physio are away on their holidays at the moment but I was nevertheless anxious to hear what might have been reported. I knew that I might not understand it all, but I wanted to read it at least. With some additional difficulty, I eventually got a hold of the scan late on Friday – via my local petrol station – don’t ask, it’s another long story. I was a little disappointed to see that the ‘report’ was two lines long and which I translated as, ‘Bleh! Can’t see much’.
So back to stage one – very sore leg – don’t know why – getting a little worse – Euro 390 lighter.
Can’t see the fog for the fog.