Something From the Roof
Ruptured
It felt like someone had hit me with a massive baseball bat from behind. But there’s no baseball bats on a padel court. Maybe my partner jumped me? But no, I can see him right in front of me. So something must have come from the roof. Something heavy. It knocked me clean off my feet and threw me to the floor.
Looking at the faces of my partner and opponents, something went very wrong. They look shocked. Concerned. It must be bad.
And then I realised. My achilles tendon.
It’s one of the most dramatic injuries I’ve ever had. One moment you’re fully functional, the next you’re on the floor unable to move. No pain. Not yet. Adrenaline does a great job of masking it. What follows is a cascade of emotions: shock, disbelief, anger, and then, oddly, a very good humour. Almost excitement. With occasional flashes of I’m fucked.
Fast forward a few hours. I’m in bed, it’s 4am, I can’t sleep. The leg is elevated. Strong painkillers are doing their job. I’m writing, trying to make sense of what happened.
According to the A&E doctor, a ruptured achilles tendon. Ten weeks in a moon boot. Several more weeks of rehab. Good chances of recovery.
But I’m not leaving it to chance. I have friends who can point me to the best in the field, so I’m getting a scan and a second opinion from a sports orthopaedic doctor. Not that I don’t trust the NHS. I just want to be sure I’m doing everything possible to heal well. Full recovery is the goal so I can get back to fitness, back to sport. I truly hope I will.
But first things first. Consultation on Thursday. Everything else can wait.
Life is going to be interesting for the next few weeks. Months, maybe. Will I be able to coach? How am I going to walk my dog? Questions for another day.
Everything that happened was meant to happen. And honestly, I asked for it. A few weeks ago I wrote this:
“If I’m in a place where everything is right but something feels missing, maybe I’m not broken. Maybe I’m just ready for a new problem. And I’m sure life will give me one. Soon enough, I’ll be dreaming of peace and quiet again.”
Lesson one: be careful what you wish for.