Well, last night, we persuaded Norman... er... Vic to let us take her to Casualty to get her knee looked at by someone who knew a bit about medical stuff.
After Stead and I gave blood, we ganged up on Vic and forced her to accompany us to Frenchay Hospital.
Despite the fact that she's been walking around with no problems - the pain only comes when she touches it, or breathes or something - they insisted uopn confining her to a wheelchair (oh, I pointed and laughed, I did) and I had to push her to the x-ray department.
Whilst Vic had her knee x-rayed, I looked at the posters on the wall and discovered that there is something called Nuclear Medicine, which sounds really cool! Learn sumfink noo every day, I does.
Anyway, it turns out that Vic's knee is not cracked or chipped as she feared, but is just swollen and sore - It'll ge better as the fluid goes away. The consultant gave us a nice medical sounding explanation for the 'crunchiness' (Although the triage nurse described it as 'crackling' and the consultant said it was 'creaking' - they're medical professionals, they should know!) of the kneecap, which was nice, but left us none the wiser.
Well a wonderful evening was had by all. We got to chuckle about the rough looking girl with an eyepatch who was brought in cuffed to a pair of lady coppers (and had fun trying to guess which of the two coppers was the bitch and which was the butch one). Oh yeah... and there were so many dodgy people around, we felt really posh. Even Stead.
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