I’m lying on the floor screaming, holding my knee together. If I let go the knee cap will lock and I won’t be able to get it back in on my own.
I need to calm down.
I need to stop screaming. Zack has just gone for his nap and I really can’t let him wake up.
He is freaking out.
He helps me get to a sitting position.
I’m still holding that knee-cap half in place for dear life.
I need to calm down.
I need to relax my muscles so I can pop it back in.
I’m shaking from the shock, I feel like jelly.
He’s called 999.
He didn’t need to, it will be fine once it goes back in.
He’d never seen it happen before.
He never will again.
I manage to calm down after talking to the woman on the other side of the phone.
I explain to her that it happens very rarely from twisting the wrong way.
I was rushing to tidy up before my parents arrived.
I turned to my left to spin round and then I was on the floor.
The muscles are starting to stop spasming around my knee now.
I can feel the knee cap sitting at the cusp, it just needs a last little push to pop it back in.
I knock it back into place.
I say thank you for talking me through it, and apologise for wasting the emergency services’ time.
He helps me up, and I manage to get onto the bed.
My leg feels like jelly. It will pop straight back out if I’m not *really* careful.
I send him out to the chemist to pick up a support.
I think how lucky I am that Zack slept straight through all this.
I try to get more comfortable on the bed, easing a pillow under my leg.
My heart is starting to slow now.
He arrives back with the support and helps me put it on.
I get up and gingerly step on it.
The support is good, it’ll hold.
I send him up to his parents. The tickets have been booked, and he needed it. Besides, my parents will be there soon.
He doesn’t want to go but I make him. If I don’t he’ll resent me, and I’ll feel too guilty.
I hobble into the kitchen, checking to make sure I don’t twist myself.
I get some painkillers and say kiss him goodbye, assuring him I’ll be fine.
I go through to the living room and ease myself down onto the sofa.
Zack wakes up.
This happened over 3 years ago, when Zack was only 9 months old. It hasn’t happened since, but there have been times that it’s been close. I dread it happening when I’m on my own. I don’t want to scare my babies. What if I fell on one of them?
Mustn’t think of that now. No point in worrying about something that might *not* happen again.
But if it’s happened before… it will happen again.
It always does.