It would seem the comedy injury with the medieval name isn't
quite the japery-filled laugh I previously thought.
Because there's no obvious site or cause of injury
causing the foot drop, there's some concern that it is nerve damage. And
because there's no obvious site or cause of injury, there's concern the
nerve damage may be caused by something else.
The best-case scenario is it's something the GP's
missed that is trapping or damaging a nerve, and this can be fixed and I will
eventually have full movement and motor control back of my foot. The
middle ground is that the damage is permanent and this is it, so I'll have
to negotiate having a twatted foot for the rest of my life. The worst-case
scenario is some quite grim shit, which opens up a whole new set of fun
possibilities.
So I'm now waiting to be tested.
To add insult to injury, I've also had flu to pile on top of
the exhaustion and stress from work, and a vicious allergy attack paid a visit
as well. I feel broken, my body is in revolt and I really don't like it. At
night, I lay in bed, like a shit Uma Thurman when the bride has escaped
the hospital in Kill Bill, willing movement in my foot.
To be perfectly frank, I have had better weeks than
this. The last seven days can, quite frankly, fuck the fuck off.
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