In that Brisbane hotel room I spent the
rest of the night writing out a modus operandi to Andy, our tour manager. There
was no point waking him up in the middle of the night, as he gets precious
little sleep as it is.
I started writing on the hotel stationery that
was an uncomfortable hobble away. This four meter journey was excruciating.
As with all unknown ailments, the worst
scenarios are uppermost in the mind. What the hell was up with my knee? Surely
it was cancer and it was a question of immediate amputation??
I worked my way around it by starting with
the words 'full investigation needed', followed by 'consultation with
experienced sports doctor'. I knew enough about such things to realise I would
be ‘in the right ballpark' so to speak. It turned out that I would be spot on.
After three long hours, at 6am I made my
way downstairs for breakfast. Each step was as restrictive and as laborious as
the last. The idea of letting the band down was weighing heavy. On the plus
side, today was a travel day to Melbourne followed by two clear days off. However, they were followed by three shows in a row: an arena show, our own theatre
show and another outdoor winery.
The flight to Melbourne resulted in the
pain in my knee becoming more intense, but thankfully later that evening, Andy
informed me that I had an appointment to have an MRI scan the following
evening.
Coincidentally, that evening was a tour party
for all crew and band members. This was to be held in the private suite of
rooms at the top of the Crowne Plaza overlooking the Yarra River.
Chrissie, of course, was concerned about my
position and supported my need for a complete and professional
assessment.
The following evening Andy and I went out to the
hospital appointment so I could get the MRI scan (beforehand I had pressed my white
Barbour shirt for the party that followed the visit.) The MRI scan was a long
drawn out procedure that involved state of the art equipment. To keep the
explanation short, they asked me endless questions and I had to fill out forms
to declare that my body contained no metals (pins, supporting bones, shrapnel, pacemakers
etc.)
After an hour and a half, Andy and I left
the hospital and went straight to the party. The detailed info. of the state of
my knee was stored with extreme precision on a DVD for us to take to Mr. Brian
Devitt MD FRCS Orthopedic Surgeon in the morning.
The following morning I walked past walls
adorned with pictures of sports stars and was introduced to Brian Devitt who
was born in Dublin. I was not in the least concerned about the outcome of
this consultation.
After thirty minutes of all tests and
manipulations, we studied the MRI on his monitor.
I found it amazing to study every fibre of
my right knee from front to back and top to bottom. The conclusion was quick
and very positive. There was no tear in the tendon at all, and the diagnosis was
Prepatellar Bursitis (also known as ‘Jumper’s Knee').
This meant that I was clear to play with no fear
of further damage as long as I took the anti-inflammatory drugs for one week,
and stopped jumping down off risers like a boy in his twenties!
I had learned I was no longer 25 years old, but I
was good to go.
M.D.C.
