A couple of days of the long knives.

I sprained my left ankle. I don't know how, or when, but come Thursday, I couldn't walk on it. Then the night set in. As it got darker my right leg packed up. It stiffened, and I couldn't band it  at the knee. at all. I struggled upstairs to go to sleep. I then began to shake with cold, though my forehead was hot, Beth told me. Bugger. I went through what this could mean over and over. The sprained ankle was a pain, the worrying part was the loss of the right leg. The fever didn't help.

Friday.  The sprained ankle was still pain on a stick,the right leg still sulking, fever had given up for a while. The ankle and the leg suddenly seemed to come around. I know I'll get the rubbish out, take it down the garden. They were lying. As I lay on the ground, having just tanked it, with two newly bruised fingers, and a brocade of thrown rubbish bags. I figured I should just let everything heal. Fever made a reappearance in the evening.

Saturday. The sprain is beginning to heal, I put my leg up all of yesterday, following the fall. Cheers beth, who made me do it. Right leg? A lot better, now bends at the knee, and is sort of usable. Fever? Who knows.

The days were frightening, as they were following the course of a massive MS attack. I was figuring out how we could use a wheelchair in the house. and how fast we could move somewhere else. How glad I was to have made my last trip to England, as I wouldn't be able to go back for a very long time. But everything settled. So, as you were.