"Reflect on a time when you received care – the other cared for you. How did you know you were cared for?

My grade 8 class were excited about learning some rugby. I always teach an 'intro' class in grade 8 PE so the students have a beginner's understanding of what the game entails and they can try out for the rugby teams later in the year.

I explained that we would be heading outside no matter the weather, so come dressed appropriately. It was January.

Monday morning arrives and the day is dark and gloomy, it rained heavily last night, but has stopped now. My morning goes well, and the class arrives first block after lunch. I take the attendance, grab the equipment and head outside, instructing the class to meet me on the field when they have completed their warm up run. I set the cones up in a large rectangle and take the balls out of the bag in preparation for our first game. The students start arriving and I tell them to grab a ball.

We run through the first exercise, and the students are very keen and participate with a lot of enthusiasm. Although the clouds have parted and there is some blue sky, the weather has become a little windy, and in the interests of keeping the students moving I quickly get into the next game.

I ask for a volunteer to step forward and I explain the principles of the exercise. The students understand, but I am asked to demonstrate one more time the principal of passing backwards. I ask for another couple of volunteers to show how a mini game would build. I have 30 sets of eyes staring intently, and as I am focused on the students, I pass the ball to my right, and feel a sharp pain thrust through my knee and it gives way as I fall to the floor. I am in excruciating pain, and I lie on my left side looking at the grass, I start to sweat and I become hot all over. I know this pain.

I have had 3 previous knee operations. Two medial meniscal tears and one lateral meniscus. 

(source:google images)

My mind starts racing, this can't be happening, I can't do this, we are getting married in May. I can't do that on crutches. It won't take that long to heal. Last time it did! It took over three years, and I put on over 40 pounds in weight. 

I see one of the staff members running over (the first aid attendant). 

"Oh no, what have you done?!" she said smiling, but I couldn't return the expression. I was in agony. I had a thought about trying to joke, but I was feeling very light headed. She helped me to the side of the field, helped my sit down, taking my jacket off and placed it carefully over my legs. That feels good, I recall thinking. I had always tried to 'suffer in silence' for two main reasons. One reason is for another time, but the main reason - which has nothing to do with male bravado, is because that's what my Grandad did. 

HISTORICAL FLASHBACK!

He suffered with emphysema for many years and was bedroom bound for about four years. He simply did not have the energy, ability nor will to leave the room. He was a very intelligent man, that had served for the British Army in India during World War II. He played cricket and was a very good photographer. I would go over to visit him once a week, and sit with him, sometimes talking, sometimes just being there. I was 18 years old, and awestruck by his stories, humour and courage. About a year before he died, I walked up the stairs, knocked as usual and entered as the door was always ajar. I saw him sat in his chair, head in hands, with TV flickering away in front of him. 

"Grandad", I said......and as soon as he heard my voice, he lifted his head, a smile crossed his face and he said

"Oh hi, young jockey!" (his nickname for myself and my brother).The pain evaporated, and that moment stuck with me for a long time. 

A car arrives and I am helped by another member of staff into the back of her car. Teresa is talking to me, yet I don't hear what she is saying. We arrive at the hospital, I am sat in a wheelchair at ER awaiting check and I just can't function. Teresa has to leave as she has classes in the afternoon and I think to myself - this is the hard thing about living away from my family (who all live in England). 

I am wheeled into the hospital ward and behind a curtain, am given some pain killers and wait. I feel more lucid and the pain starts to subside. A Doctor walks in. He is young, seems disengaged and asks my symptoms. I explain that I have had 3 other knee operations and this seems similar pain. 

"Yup, well.........go home, ice it and rest. We will put you in for an MRI".

I felt like I was being discarded and that in the past many times (especially when being spoken to by Doctors) I trust their professional advice and go along. Not this time.

"No! I exclaim. I am in a lot of pain, I am a PE teacher and I will not be able to do my job. I am getting married in May - I can't live like this for over a year!". 

"I will be back in a minute", pulling the curtain open and quickly thrashing it back behind him as he leaves. I sit, shaking my head. 

A few minutes later the curtain opens, and in walks a young, Asian Doctor, announcing his name as Dr. Lee. He has a calm, quiet demeanour and tells me to explain what happened, where the pain is and what it feels like. He is interested and I immediately get a sense that he wants to do something about this. He listens intently, closing his eyes when he nods in approval. He also states that my previous experience with the injuries means I am probably right.

WHAT? A medical professional is saying I may be right, and is actually acknowledging my opinion and experience?! He says that I can not live like this, and will put a request in for an emergency MRI, I must rest and go back to see him in a week.

A week later, I return. 

"What are the results of the MRI?" 

"I haven't had one," I reply. He looks shocked. He goes around the corner and I can hear him say to other doctors that he requested an emergency MRI, and they laughed. He comes out of the office, makes a phone call and returns to me on the bed. 

"Tomorrow at 12", he says. I state that is amazing how he got an MRI so soon. 

"No, I am operating at 12 tomorrow, are you OK with that. I don't see the need to wait for an MRI".

I trust his judgement, the hustle and keenness to get it fixed is working for me. This way I many be crutch-less for the wedding. However, I wake up the next day after the operation to this sight.

(credit:selfie)



I am told that Dr. Lee did reconstructive surgery and I must leave this brace on for 6 weeks. Well, this is a different ending that the other 3 operations. The pain of the brace is excruciating and although I have had a lot of experience on crutches (!) I am finding it hard to move around, as i am not to weight bear. Alexis is extremely helpful, caring and patient and helps make me comfortable with my leg up. This is the only position I can be almost pain free. If I sit with my foot on the floor, I can feel the blood rushing through my knee down to my foot. I have a hard time doing anything. Each time I shower it takes about 45 minutes. Alexis would cover my leg with a black bin bag, tape it at the top, so water can't leak in. She would then help me over the side of the bath, so I didn't slip and fall and repeat the process on the way out. I couldn't bend down to dry my feet or put socks on.

I needed help, and I surrendered to being cared for.

(credit: C.Wardle from Dr. Lee Operation notes)

The care continued throughout my rehabilitation, and extended into my rehabilitation, as I received amazing assistance from Dr. Lee (I would visit every two weeks and took the time to go through the operation, what he did and how best I should rehabilitate. I never felt rushed or that I was taking up all his time); Dr Dan (RMT) and Rachael (physio), as well from Alexis at home.