Saturday before I last, I was injured doing stand-up work at BJJ. We were doing some judo sparring and the guy I was sparring with went for a take-down, wrapped up my leg and when we both went down I felt a crack. I was really worried that it was my knee, but the injury was healing through the week.
The pain in my knee gave way to pain in my calf. Then I found a tender spot on my calf and, naturally, started pressing it and messing with it. There was something moving and it hurt.
I went to the hospital today and it turns out that I broke my leg. The fibula. I guess my knee is going to be OK, but I’m not sure how long this will take to heal. I think July is the cruelest month. Every July it seems that some pretty bad shit happens. I don’t know why. Luke and Mom feel the same way.
Oh yeah, and before I forget. I just saw Sicko, which actually shot some footage in the Charing Cross Hospital. Today I heard a bunch of Americans in the waiting room. A little old couple from West Virginia sat down next to me and struck up a conversation. The woman asked, “What do you think of the National Health Service?” I told her how great I thought it was, how it really removed a lot of stress about getting sick, etc. She complained about the riff-raff in London. Fair enough, a bit mad, but fair. But then she and her husband went on to tell me about the amount of their deductibles for their insurance. Which were astonishingly high. Then they grilled me on the cost of UK taxes. I started to get the impression that they had come over to England for medical care. I wonder if this is the start of a trend?
I was called in before them, and the old man said, “Be good.”