A kneecap story

And many other stories

Yes. I broke my kneecap.

I don’t want to go into the details of how this happened; it was a perfect storm, involving a lazy cab driver and a bag full of shopping. In any case, we ended up in the A&E Department of the local hospital.

It was an all night session. We checked in at 8:30 pm and crawled out, bleary-eyed, as a pink sun rose in the east.

The nurse took one cool look at me and said one word “X Ray.” This nurse fascinated me, tipping her chin up and slanting her eyes as she appeared through one door and disappeared through another, all night, with an inscrutable expression. This was her professional face; at other times I saw her warmly greeting and laughing with colleagues. Before I left, she put a vial of purple liquid in my mouth, which knocked me out when I got home.

Over the course of our eight-hour wait, we got to know our fellow patients. It was what you might call “a microcosm of society” - to use a hackneyed phrase. We spent hours with a sweet couple in their eighties. The wife talked about anything and everything; husband was quiet and not very well, with a watery smile. He eventually stayed in, while she went home, somewhat relieved, to let their dog out for a pee.

There was a completely silent and mysterious middle-aged couple, she in heavy makeup and a long white towelling dressing gown. I don’t know what they were waiting for, but they didn’t say a word to each other or anyone else.

How did we keep awake? By telling funny stories. One of the nurses made us chuckle. Every time she called out a name, we all looked at each other. Who? She called several times for a “Linda Dingle.” Ms. Dingle never appeared; she became the stuff of legend. With her East European accent, the nurse made everyone sound like a character from Harry Potter.

The parade of young people proved most amusing, including some lovey-dovey couples who wrapped themselves around each other and seemed perfectly content with each other’s company. I wondered if they really had anything wrong with them, or if the A&E Department was just a nice cozy place to hang out. They mostly had blood tests, for what I have no clue.

One was a nineteen year-old, who told me about his boring job in manufacturing, and his grandmother. He also tickled his girlfriend a lot. Another cheerful young man with rosy cheeks had just dislocated his knuckles (it’s a long story) but was not in pain.

At about 3 a.m. a group of four young people arrived. One of the girls was supposedly unwell, announcing that she was “in agony,” then went back to checking Instagram posts and posing for selfies. Her boyfriend brought her cans of soft drinks and energy drinks from the vending machine, and then departed. The other girl flashed her fingers across her smartphone screen; she appeared to be playing some kind of rapid fire online game. She then started squeezing pimples on her boyfriend’s face. They were in their own world.

There were some rather sad figures, who kept appearing and reappearing, on the periphery: an extremely thin, elderly Asian lady, an older man with long hair and beard, who appeared distracted and confused, and a tall woman with distant eyes, who tested the automatic doors several times over.

In the end, a kind of camaraderie developed among us. When a patient was released and allowed to go home, we waved them goodbye and wished them well.

Meanwhile, I am not allowed to bend my knee. I am working on a kind of swinging gait, like Long John Silver with his peg leg. Perhaps I will find the hidden treasure…