Blood Tests and X-Rays (oh, and a birthday)

Anyone who has spoken to me for a space of time over the last month will have probably heard me complaining about my sore knee, and, if they were lucky enough, would have seen the little round ball of something which rolls up from underneath the kneecap and sits underneath the skin until I roll it back down. Quite an event, I know.

Anyway, I showed my dad the little ball one day and his limited knowledge of the medical profession did not extend far enough to have any idea what the hell was going on. He booked me in for a doctors appointment and off we went. 

After sitting in the waiting room for 25 minutes, the doctor (described by my dad as "one of those old, trustworthy, country GP's") showed us to his office. I described my ailment to him and he, too, was at a loss, even after poking around my knee for a few minutes. I don't think he quite grasped what was going on with the little ball, but he narrowed it down to three possibilities: it's rheumatic (he reminisced about a case from 30 years ago where someone came in with a sore knee and left with rheumatic fever), it's localised arthritis (my Dad quickly dismissed this after we'd left as it didn't fit with his limited knowledge of medicine), or it's something else. That's the second time in six months (after four and half years of never seeing the doctor) that I've gone to the doctor and they've not known what's wrong with me. 

Anyway, he prescribed a blood test and X-rays, so ff we went to the nice lady from Capital Pathology who fell in love with my veins as soon as she saw them. After suggesting I join the 'vampire club' and admiring my hair, she jabbed a needle into right arm and, low and behold, nothing happened. She told me that it wasn't the fault of my wonderful veins but that of the needle she was working on (something which offered surprisingly little comfort). I rolled up my left sleeve (more exclamations about my wonderful veins) and in went another needle, and, low and behold, nothing happened. She laughed that off, and, with the needle still in my arm, she switched cartridges and found success. She taped that up and off we went to Radiology.


We sat in the Radiology waiting room for another ten minutes before I was taken into the radiation room and told to remove my shoes by a lady who had the air of someone who likes their job but knows it isn't going to take them any further in life. We tried out a few different positions under the big, awesome x-ray machine which I was rather impressed by and she took a few shots and sent them off to the doctor. I should hear the results of both tomorrow, and I have a horrible feeling that the doctor's going to say "we're not sure what's happening there, but it should fix itself up if you take it easy for a few weeks". I had disappointing results (localised arthritis sounds much more dramatic than "I don't know.").

In other news, I celebrated my fifteenth birthday on Monday, after waking up to an empty house (my mum at a conference, my dad doing maintenance work up the mountains and my sister working at McDonald's). Once my dad and my sister got back we went out to lunch and I received $300 towards my DSLR camera (amongst other things). I now have a grand total of $407.15, and I'm aiming for $800 by the end of the year. Wish me luck.

My birthday party with those pretend friends of mine will be happening when things warm up a little later in the year.

I think 636 words will do for now.

In memory of the wondrous art of pre-emptive gluing,
Nick. (654 now)