Worst week of the week award? September 18, 2009

Anyone remember the Worst Week of the Week award, awarded weekly, on a week by week basis? It was part of an ace Radio Two comedy prog. Well, I reckon this week I am a contender.

It all started Sunday, with a hangover…

Strike One.

A quarter of the way into a rugby game on Sunday, I got an almighty blow to the head and immediately hit the floor, with an egg sized lump rapidly growing on my bonce. Whoever hit me, did it pretty hard but I have a concrete skull so after 10mins of ice packing, I felt bullish and fine, so went back on to play. I later realised I had concussion when I got nausea and pins and needles in my face whilst at work the next day!

Strike Two.

When I went back on the pitch on Sunday, no sooner had I got the ball than I went on a little dash on the attack. It was going well, I’d beaten one defender and just had the full back to get round. My sidestep was planned but on execution – crunch! The old familiar battered knee re-emerged. Two years on from my grade 2 ACL tear, I am still getting gip. It was sore beyond belief and I had to hobble off, whilst cursing quite loudly in anger. That was the end of that game, and my knee’s not a great deal improved five days on, worst luck.

Strike Three.

Yesterday lunchtime whilst driving back to work, I had the misfortune of meeting Neanderthal man. Whilst going along a dual carriageway, a white van driver decided to cross the road over to an opposite slip road, and basically chuntered straight into my lane. I somehow managed to swerve round him but the back end of the car got scuffed. On exiting my car, in order to exchange details, the driver emerged as an angry Scotsman, fervently gesturing and shouting obscenities. I didn’t understand the offensive language until I’d asked him to repeat it, as he really had a broad accent.

Anyhoo, after trying to blame me, Neanderthal man got back in his van and drove off without giving me his details. I managed to get the license plate and when he parked up just a bit away from me I drove up again, stayed in my car (wasn’t sure if he’d get physically aggressive – yikes) and asked him again for his contact details. He begrudgingly gave me a name and business, but claimed he didn’t have a phone. So now we’re going through police, insurance and all sorts to try and get it sorted.

On the upside, I’ve had my three bad things happen now so surely my luck must be turning. But in the meantime, can anyone beat this for a rubbish week?

A bracing return to rugby September 8, 2008

Yesterday was our first run out of the rugby season and it was also my first game back since a horrid knee injury in October last year. (Boo to knees, by the way – they don’t look pretty, they aren’t well designed, they are tweaked easily.  Me no like.)

I’ve been rehabbing like a maniac to try and get the knee back up to fitness and to avoid an operation (which is really icky for my injury, don’t cha know), and finally I got the chance to step back on the beloved pitches of Olney yesterday.  Unfortunately our opposition could only bring 10 players – but after a bit of lending and muddling through, we were on.

Honestly? I was crapping myself with nerves at this first game back.  I had three lucky trips to the toilet that morning (work that out yourself, people) and had carbo loaded so much that I’m sure Michael Phelps would have been proud of me.  The game started ok, although I knew in my mind that I being a bit of a wimp and was holding back.

I find irritation with oneself is good motivation to change so after an internal conversation involving the mantra “do it, fucking do it!” (hat tip to Robyn for that one) I was re-charged.  The next time I got the ball I ignored everyone else outside me shouting for it (hmmm. They had lots of space.  I was facing a wall of defence. Tunnel vision perhaps?) and boshed it.  I managed to get through a few tacklers and over the line for one of the sweetest tries I’ve ever scored.  The game got better as my confidence grew and faith in the knee meant I could forget about it.  I’m also keen to forget about my attempts at conversions (one out of three)!

I have better hair than Peter Richards

The second half brought me another try as I managed to slip through a gap and find myself with the best part of half a pitch, empty, in front of me.  At full fitness, this is a dream scenario.  On return from injury?  Nightmare.  “Sodding hell” I thought – I’ve got to bloody run now.  Try line beckoning, I was off, and managed it. Hoopla!

Today, I’m feeling good. I even went for a lunchtime run.  But I think the fearfulness will be back in 2 weeks as we have our first league game, and then the following week face the British Army rugby triallists.  Now those will be a test – if I come through those intact, I reckon I’m fixed for the season (touching wood, crossing fingers – crossing arms, legs and eyes as well).

Back into the fold with a bosh August 14, 2008

Last night was the first contact rugby training I’ve done for the best part of a year, and I must admit I was pooping myself when it came to the crunch out on the pitch.  The knee is feeling ok and I did my strengthening up exercises before impact stuff, hopping about and squatting like a loony-tune to try and get the muscles ready for a bosh.

Anyway, the exercises did the trick and I started the drills ok, although I was shaking a wee bit before going in (I’ve never been that nervous, what a wuss!).  The prospect of horror is so much worse than the real thing isn’t it?  Got through the one on one drills and towards the end started getting tackled on the injured knee side – I survived.
Then it was into full impact with us split into two teams, one defence and one attack. I started in defence and was hesitant at first (and then was annoyed that I was hesitant).  My chance came later and I put in a tackle on my sister, and then through instinct jumped back up to make another as the winger from the attacking side was there in support and looking to go.

Twisting round and tackling, my knee made a pop and there it was – the familiar, intense pain.  This time though, I got straight up and after walking it off a wee bit, carried on.  It was nerve-wracking but best to crack on, so I got stuck into attack this time.  I took a good few tackles and came out unscathed so finished the session with immense positivity, believing, at last, I am fixed!!
On return home I iced and rested and stretched. Today is when I’m feeling it though, after yesterday’s euphoric survival – today, hour by hour the affected knee has been steadily stiffening up and I just had to pop to the loo and stretch out my hamstring and calf, as it’s feeling so tight.  I guess I just haven’t been boshed for a while!  Hopefully a few more sessions full on will build my strength back up and get my confidence back on track.  I need to be up for running through people, hitting the oppo hard and making big tackles.  I have to get my place in the team back (although, having played centre for years – do I need a change? where might that be?) Only 3 weeks to our first game…

Knee news is good news July 24, 2008

Yesterday was Knee-D-Day, with the consultant’s final (for now) verdict on the gammy knee.  It’s not been too bad lately and I have been a demon with my physio so feeling strong (although still wibbly when on heels – maybe that’s just me).

In anticipation of the worst, I’d psyched myself up for an operation as I figured some wobbling wasn’t right, right?  Apparently not!  Consultant man did a few tests, including one test where the upper and lower leg are moved in opposition.  The gammy knee was pretty bad on this but then the Prof moved to my (apparently) non gammy knee and found that although minor, this knee also slid around a bit on the test.  Conclusion? I have freaky knees.

The other thing that the consultation revealed is that my physio is a grass. I’d confided to him that I’d twatted my knee whilst moshing to ‘Baggy Trousers’ wearing high heels on rugby tour.  Physio man, lovely though he is, had actually written this (pretty much word for word) into his report so my Consultant read it out, put the letter down, sighed, raised his eyebrows…but then admitted Baggy Trousers was indeed a top tune. Whatta guy!

The upshot anyway, of all the prodding and testing, is that Consultant man wants me to keep on with physio and get back into rugby training. Good to have no op, but mixed feelings about this.

One part of me = Slightly scared by the thought of bundling, as I’ve not done any rugger since November 2007.  Gulp.

The other part of me = Ecstatic that I can go and KICK SOME ASS again.  Can’t wait to pile in.

So, I guess time will tell and come August, when we start contact training, the knee will be properly tested.  The Prof says I have to contact him again in September to let him know how I get on.  Here’s seriously hoping that the knee stands up to it – otherwise, it’s deffo operation time and that just freaks me OUT!

“Sorry, can’t play Sunday – I’m ovulating” July 15, 2008

My rugby mate has just sent me a link to this article, which warns that ACL injuries (see my woes here) can be linked to womens’ menstrual cycles. She’s damaged her back and her physio advised her, quite literally I understand, to avoid playing rugger whilst ovulating. Is this for real? It isn’t 1st April is it?

The article says: “The study finds that women are nearly three times more likely to injure their ACL during ovulation” – so that means that my knee got twatted when I was being fertile. Really? No – REALLY? Is it that we are more vulnerable around this time? Or are we more moody and thus likely to pile into sports to release tension, hence risking injury? The answer is unknown – researchers say it’s “still a mystery”. Women = mystery. No change there then.

I’m struggling to take this seriously, although my mate may be more cautious (she has had 3 back operations, after all – can’t be too careful when your menstrual cycle’s involved). But really. Can you imagine our coaches’ faces when we announce, “sorry, can’t play Sunday – I’m ovulating.” That has to be the best/craziest/most bizarre excuse yet for missing a game, surely?

“An episode of instability” May 23, 2008

Not my words, and no – not referring to my state of mind either, thanks!

My physio’s assessment of Saturday night, when I twatted my gammy knee whilst moshing to Madness.

The good news is, it’s not as bad as I thought and although a set back, he reckons I can still avoid an operation.

The bad news, I’m not allowed to dance in high heels, so with a wedding party looming tommorrow night, I’m now off to scout out some suitably glam flat shoes to boogy in…

Minibus mayhem, Madness Misery and more May 20, 2008

Rugby Tours usually involve a LOT of comedy moments, some drunk tearful episodes and a bit of bundling.  Last weekend’s 2008 tour to Whitley Bay in Newcastle, was no exception!

In previous years, we’ve literally had scrapes with minibus trips (I crashed one within 30mins of collecting it) – and this year was no different. This time, we were in the club bus and got it checked a few days before by a local garage, who told us to sort out a tyre, which we duly did (or so we thought).  On the trip up there, about 90 mins in, we were up the M1 and suddenly the bus started shaking. 

We were due a wee stop anyway so after we’d all piled in and out of the services in our dapper tour hats, we checked the tyres.  Only to find (gulp), one had a hole in it the size of a fist.   Being proactive and not keen on waiting for 4 hours for the AA to tow us, we set off again at a very slow speed, coming off at the next juntion.  One dodgy looking garage stop later, we were off to Aston Tyres to see Billy, who apparently, could sort us out.  Billy’s eyes widened as 14 women piled out of the minibus that drew up outside, swigging lager and cider (apart from the drivers of course!) and cajoling him to fix the bus.

Billy – what a star! The man is a leg-end and sorted the bus out for £40 in record time.  We were on our way again, but not before a photo opportunity with our new favourite tyre supplier!!

On arrival in Whitley Bay we realised we only need visit one street – that which we were staying on. OUr hotel was flanked on one side by a strip bar, and the other by the pub the Hairy Lemon (nice!) – we were in The Zone…

The usual mayhem soon descended, as we found ourselves walking for an hour to a fish and chip shop that was closed, playing beach olympics in the freeeeezing wind on a deserted beach, diving into the even colder sea water and singing rugby songs in a random local pub on saturday avo.  I was not keen however on the new drinking game, the “Finger of Fire” – involving sambuca, a lighter, and one’s own finger.

It was Saturday night that the tears struck, and I was the culprit! No sooner had Baggy trousers come on, than I was moshing on the dance floor – it was all too much for my dodgy knee, which promptly gave up.  Frustrated, in pain and facing the prospect of ANOTHER season out of rugby, the tears flowed down my pink glittery face (flamingo outfit, of course) for a good few songs following Madness. Boo it. 

After a few hugs, blowing my nose on my sister’s wings (owl outfit) and getting some trainers on, I was back on it and boogying slightly less manically for the rest of the night.  We stood out from the hen-party Police uniforms, in our wide array of “Birds” fancy dress (Thunderbird, Jail Bird and lady bird were in there, as well as Cuckoos and Parrots). 

Sensibly, I sat out of this year’s post-clubbing bundling fiesta, which involves forward rolls across a bed full of people, pile-ons and a bit of head bashing on radiators (not deliberately). 

Despite my fears, I lived through another rugby tour and what the heck – bring on 2009!

Feeling blue – my knee is boo February 13, 2008

Bad news today, after an MRI scan the Prof told me I’ve torn my cruciate in my right knee. Dammit! I knew I was a bit wibbley and couldn’t ‘do the twist’ very well at the Chrimbo parties, but this is a blow.

It means I’m no longer able to play rugby this season, plus if it doesn’t heal with mega physio, it’s operation time (and another season out).  Breaking my leg was less of a nightmare, at least I was back doing sport within 10 weeks (altho I had a nasty, weedy, hairy leg when it emerged from plaster)!!

Ho hum. Deffo need to find an alternative outlet for my pent up aggression – swimming and cycling doesn’t really hit the spot and I’m not keen on just punching bags as my arms are prone to bulking up and looking manly.

Hmmm, lateral thinking needed here.  Wonder if there’s a wheelchair basketball side I can sign up to?