It was times like these that I really appreciated having my mother at home during the day. I was in desperate need of assistance when I collapsed through the side door, and into a beanbag.
"What have you done to yourself?"
"Just this," I replied, and showed her my shin. "That doesn't look too good. I'll get some ice."
It was already an enormous lump. It took two hours for the throbbing to subside, even though I had kept the leg almost totally still. It was not the usual reaction from within to an injury of this type.
Worse was to follow.
I was kept awake throughout most of the night, unable to find a comfortable sleep position . The next morning, there was more evidence that something was definitely wrong.

The bulbous lump had a deep-sea blue glow, which seemed to have trickled far into the surrounding areas. From the lump through my ankle, and down to my toes, the area was swollen and colourful.
It was off to the family doctor.
I was instructed to keep the leg raised and because of the extent of the damage, had to do so for the next four days. This was going to be a very uncomfortable time.

The novelty of my situation, which arose from an extremely healthy and active past, quickly disappeared as boredom and frustration set in. This was the era of bikes and Kick-to -Kick when traffic was so scarce that games could be played on the road. The call "car" was enough to move us and it was rare. No helmets, climbing fences to retrieve balls, sunnyboys and five cent bags of chips. A time when neighbours were known and kids could be left to roam then chastised when they failed to return by dark.

On another front valuable time was being wasted. I was a young Year 12 having skipped a level at Primary School. There is still debate in the family as to whether it was my enormous intellect or that there were too many kids which led to me skipping a grade. Turning 16 in Year 12 was still very young. I was missing classes.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9