When dodgy knees seem like a blessing

A DAD'S LIFE: It’s hard to retain control when faced with serious illness, writes ADAM BROPHY

A DAD'S LIFE:It's hard to retain control when faced with serious illness, writes ADAM BROPHY

HERE’S THE list of my current physical ailments. I have a broken toe. Not an important one, the fourth one, the little piggy that had none. Maybe it helps me to balance a little, but apart from that it’s not up to much. I’m supposed to rest it for six weeks before running. I don’t understand why, but it hurts when I run so I have listened to the doc.

Moving up the leg, there’s a wee bit of cartilage in the knee called the meniscus. That’s torn, so it hurts when I run or cycle. It’s not helped by the partially torn medial ligament on the inner part of the same knee. Rubbishy auld right leg.

On to the back. Slightly achey low down at the moment, prone to misalignment in the middle and my pillows need a sort of military construction each night to avoid neck strain in the morning. The roll-out of bed is a lottery for the joints, whichever one screams loudest first might get a little attention.

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Apart from that, the body is tickety boo, arms, shoulders and head in decent nick. Moan over. Happy days.

All my injuries are self-inflicted so can’t be used for sympathy. They are the result of a combination of clumsiness and laziness. I tend to fall over and don’t like to stretch. Stretching seems to be quite important, it’s a pity it’s so dull. But the upshot is when there is an aerial attack on our bed by excited children, a lot of “oohs”, “aahs”, “watch that” and “be careful” emerge from my side.

They pay no attention. If you’re not actually in a cast, a sling or on crutches, you’re not really in pain in the eyes of a child. You’re supposed to be impervious, a great big mountain of mobile playground and really, no matter how stiff and sore you are, you have to live up to that. It’s your job.

Besides, you can’t sweat the niggles because when the big medical problems land, everyone needs to sit up and pay attention. What’s the point in crying wolf when we know he’ll be paying a real visit sooner or later.

I’m healthy, the wife’s healthy, both kids are healthy. But in our extended family, two members are involved in struggles that are having, and will continue to have, profound effects on them and those close to them. I won’t write more about them because what they are going through is so painful and fraught with confusion that to do so would be unfair.

What their situations hammer home, however, is how close we are at all times to fighting to retain some semblance of control over the guiding of our own life. We wake, drive the kids to school, work, regroup and do our own things. We are self-contained, we decide what is right for us, where and how we want to live. Yet all that is thrown in our faces at the advent of a serious illness.

The retention of a sense of control over our own destinies is crucial to how we function, it is the essence of freedom. Sickness and immobility take away many physical choices but they do not have the right to take away a person’s ownership of their destiny. I believe I have quite common fears about my own health: paralysis and blindness terrify me. Hot on their heels is a horror at being lost in a vast system designed to cure my ailments with little consideration for what I might think about what’s going on.

We’ve all been there, in an emergency room in the dark hours having left the house with far different intentions, either accompanying someone or coping with a mishap of our own. A slip, a blow or a sudden illness has us there, something unforeseen that swooped and wreaked havoc in an instant causing all plans to dissipate. From that point, there is a singular focus: dealing with the outcome.

In those emergency rooms, with pains in my face, or hands, or struggling to breathe, I’ve been stabilised and told to wait. Waiting is the worst because it gives time to replay what happened and to pore over the alternative actions that could have avoided your life ending up in the hands of the system, even temporarily.

When the serious stuff strikes, holding onto a sense of your own role in your recovery must be difficult. Bombarded by advice and instructions from all sides, doing what you want and need to do can be sidetracked. But with a strong will and determination hopefully these unavoidable hurdles can be negotiated, and griping about dodgy knees may once again become a pressing concern.