I’m going to regret committing this to print, but I really am going to have to start listening to my wife.
This article will be cut out and stuck to our fridge door as a reminder of my promise and it will be yellowing and grubby before I’m allowed to forget it.
However, given the events of the weekend, there’s little chance of that anyway.
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I waved away concerns about the persistent swelling in my leg, putting it down to doing too much after a period of illness, a twisted ankle of the side effect of tablets I’m taking.
On Sunday afternoon, I finally relented.
First, I headed to A&E at Forth Valley Royal but, faced with an estimated three-and-a-half-hour wait, I opted to head to the minor injuries unit in Stirling instead.
Unfortunately having a leg like an elephant wasn’t deemed an ‘injury’ and, as it turned out, it wasn’t ‘minor’ either.
An appointment with an out-of-hours doctor first raised the spectre of DVT and, within 24 hours I not only been relieved of some blood, had my heart and chest checked, and leg scanned, but I’d been diagnosed and started treatment.
Regular blood tests and injections may not sound great, but they’re better than the alternative.