Or sink, sink is fine.

So, last Wednesday I went to the baths. As usual. Swimming along as fine, as usual. Got a ping from the right hip, in the water, as usual, so hauled in to the side.

Felt pretty rough, so decided to get out. Gave my morphine to LT, told her that everything was normal but that it’d be easier if she held my morphine for me, since I was on paired crutches. Dragged myself through to the side, with the hip seizing up as I went, curled up in the showers… And couldn’t move my leg.

Crutched over to the lockers, started to get changed, covering the leg, and was standing up half-wrapped in a towel when LS (All lifeguards are going to be L+Letter, for anonymity’s sake) came in to give back the morphine. I told her things were basically all right, but with more pain and spasm than usual, but to come back and check on me if I wasn’t out in a few minutes.

By the time she came back in a few minutes, I was dressed, curled up with the dislocated leg sticking out like a dead spider, and howling. Things get a bit fuzzy from this point on.

I think either LS or LT phoned 111, and got an ambulance sent out. LS brought me the phone to get through to Dearest, but instead I got through to my best friend, who caught Dearest on Skype and sent him to me.

He arrived at the same time as the paramedics, who could give me nitrous oxide (and lots of it), but couldn’t reset my dislocated hip. Dearest, on the other hand, could.

Hip quickly reset, I was assembled onto a backboard, onto a stretcher, and wheeled out of the changing rooms. Information was taken, in the back of the ambulance, and I was allowed to go straight home. More or less, in bits.

So, since then, it’s been a week of morphine and misery. Debating never going back to swimming at all, since I’m increasingly causing too much trouble for the staff.

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