Anne, Anne, Anne, and Anne Part 1

This week I’ve somehow managed to trap a nerve in my back, which is causing me a rather large amount of pain in my legs. I’m fine as long as I don’t stand, sit, or lie down. I’ve been doing quite a bit of crawling about the last few days, as it is the least painful thing for me to do. 

The last time I was in this much pain was when I managed to wreck my knee as a teenager. I somehow managed to do this twice. The second time was by kicking a football. I would like to point out at this juncture that I wasn’t playing football, but rather kicking the ball to some people who were playing the game. 

After this accident, I ended up spending a week at Altnagalven hospital. Where I received some physiotherapy from the wonderful hands of Anne, Anne, Anne and Anne. I can be really bad at names, but they were all really called Anne. They were commonly referred by their hair colour, except for Older Anne who would have been five or six years older than the rest. 

Being sixteen at the time, I loved getting all this attention from all these slightly older, they would have guessed that they were between early twenties with Older Anne being thirty at most. All four were also quite attractive, especially in the eyes of a somewhat horny teenager. They would pop around a few times a day either to take me to different therapy sessions, or to check a few things on my knee. I was always happy to accommodate them, in my private room. 

One afternoon, just after I had lunch, Older Anne came into my room to do some laser treatment on my knee. She explained that she had a gun which she would press up against the ligaments. I have to say that I wasn’t that impressed with the gun. As a lifelong fan of science fiction, I expecting something more exciting looking than a glue gun with a power cable out the back of it. 

As it needed contact, off went my bottoms, and Anne took one look at me lying there with my boxers on and told me that they would have to come off too. I then was given a towel to strategically cover my modesty. My boxers weren’t that long, so I have no idea why I had to take them off. 

I ended up on my hospital bed trying to relax myself, while wearing the most uncool pair of dark safety googles. Anne poked and prodded around my knee with the gun, which was buzzing away quite happily. This went on for a while, and the throbbing pain my knee was beginning to calm down a little. 

Anne asked me how I felt, and I said that I was feeling good, when my mother charging through the door. 

As this a family blog, I will not say word for word what my mother said, but let’s assume it was something along the lines of “What is going on here?” 

In my mother’s defence it must have been quite a sight watching a woman bent over her son asking him how he felt, with him replying that it felt good. Even though I was trying to relax, I probably also looked quite tense as she walked in. Did I also mention that my underwear was at the end of the bed? 

After ten minutes, two cups of tea, and one very quick explanation. My dearest mother had calmed down, as she no longer thought that people were taking unfair advantage of her eldest son. Me, being the innocent, had no idea why she flipped. In those days I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.

The next day would lead to something different…

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