Kneesy Does It part 3

Today I had an MRI scan on my left knee at the Royal Liverpool Hospital.

I felt a bit of a fraud, to be honest. Here I am, still able to play tennis and stay comparitively active, yet I was surrounded by the frail and infirm who looked like they needed a whole lot more help than I did.

I consoled myself with the fact that, despite picking up the odd knock in my time, I haven’t really demanded that much of the National Health Service. I figured it was alright for me to be receiving the treatment in the off chance my knee can be fixed. If it turns out there’s nothing wrong and it’s all in my head then I might need to revise that statement. ;o)

As always I was very curteous and polite to the hospital staff. The way I see it is they’re doing a very important job – far more worthwhile than any I’ve ever done, and they don’t get paid much for it. I wouldn’t want Cousin Iain taking any unnecessary attitude from patients, so I spread the karma by doing my part, regardless of how receptive the staff are.

After changing into one of those gowns with the split down the back, and placing my belongings into a locker, I took a seat outside of the MRI room’s large insulating door and waited my turn. Shortly they wheeled an old lady out from the MRI room – she was very thin and moaning every other breath. Obviously it had been quite a daunting experience for her.

Being quite versed in sci-fi I was quite looking forward to “being placed in center of a giant packet of polo mints”, as the paperwork had described it. Following the instructions of the man who showed me in, I hopped up onto the table and placed my left knee into the brace that would hold it in place. The man added a couple of foam pads around my knee once the brace was closed over, which I was quite pleased about as I didn’t think I’d be able to keep still for half an hour.

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That day in the square

Due to the distraction of going to Dublin I almost forgot to mention the great Saturday afternoon we spent down in Concert Square in Liverpool a few weeks back.

As he was down from Glasgow for a stag do, Ade had dropped me a line suggesting that we meet up for a few drinks. I hadn’t seen him in a long time, with most of the visits back to Scotland over the last year or so being jam packed with one function or another, so I was glad he got in touch.

On the day, Fliss, Elisha and myself headed into town on the train at lunch time. This was partly to avoid the traffic and partly so that either of us could have a drink if we wanted. I’m not a big fan of public transport, but it worked out perfectly for us.

After looking around a few shops and grabbing a couple of slices of pizza for lunch, Ade got in touch to say he was trying to find a bar in nearby Concert Square. I gave him directions there and then we made our way up ourselves, fortuitously scoring a table on the quieter side of the square when we arrived.

This particular part of the city is always vibrant with the large concentration of bars in the area, and the antics of revellers is akin to free street entertainment. Such as the squad of lads cheering each other through a drunken game of poker, or the bearded man who turned up dressed as Wonder Woman. It makes for quite a pleasant atmosphere and, on a sunny day like this one, it’s easy enough to while away the hours just observing people.

Ade had been sitting at the corner of the square with his party of mates when he came over and found us as I came back from the bar. We chatted and had a few drinks over the next hour or so, catching up on what had been going on in each of our lives and those of friends up in Scotland whom I hadn’t seen in ages either.

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