Can I just complain? Yes, I can, if I do say so myself. No, it's not about my knee for once. You could just fall asleep by now. I am continuing my rehabilitation and apart from a small incident here and there, I now have nothing to say about it.
It's about my daughters. I have three, two of which are still at home. They are both very sporty. Totally responsible:away from the iPad and television and chasing a ball on the hockey field, playing soccer at school or spinning a nice cartwheel in gymnastics. They both do it with a lot of effort and fanaticism. So far no complaints.
Wi-Fi
But now my point:this year alone we have been at the First Aid Post seven times with an injury from the sports ladies. (And I'm not even talking about GP visits, follow-up appointments, plaster rooms, physios and). And the year isn't even over yet. Broken foot, torn ankle ligaments, bruised elbows, broken toes:you call, we turn. At the Academic Medical Center (AMC) they just don't know how I drink my coffee, although I think I saw that the volunteer at the emergency room already pushed the milk jug to me. It all starts with the doorman:“Do you know the way? You can register there on the left.' Then I sneer:'Yes, we know that.' And there are even more advantages, I don't want to appear too negative. We have two sizes of elbow crutches at home as standard (also handy for friends and acquaintances), all punched plates are up-to-date and my phone automatically jumps to the WiFi at all hospitals in the area.
Thunderstorm
Just got home from a wonderful holiday, didn't visit a hospital this time, just had my inflamed wisdom tooth pulled, school starts again and so do all sports clubs. When I get the youngest from gymnastics she sits by the side with a wet washcloth on her ankle. Thick tears trickle down her cheeks. At home treated her ankle with ice and arnica. After her ankle ligaments ruptured in April, she has gone through them at least six times. That will be a visit to the orthopedist. The middle one comes home from hockey with her face on thunder. Unfortunately fell on her arm. Paracetamol in it and a pillow under the painful arm for the night. In the morning I called the doctor to have it checked, the pain is unbearable according to my daughter. "Well, the doctor says, let's have a picture taken in the hospital. I consider the risk of a break up very real."
Munchhausen
"You know the way?" asks the doorman. I am now terrified that the trained ER nurses are starting to recognize me and think they have a case of Munchausen by Proxy. This is a psychiatric disorder in which parents (often mothers) seek the attention of care providers by pretending to be fictional illnesses in their children or themselves. Sometimes they even go so far as to intentionally harm or poison their children. My children always have to tell their own story to the emergency room. You are asked three times:"How exactly did you fall?" And rightly so. My friend Joyce calls, she has been informed through the fanfare. "Oh dear, well, you're back in your rhythm right away. You would only get upset if you don't have to go to the hospital for a month.'
Who is Marie-Anne? Marie-Anne, 48 years old, is married and mother of three daughters. She has a serious cartilage problem and is now going through life with a new knee. For the time being she is still happy with it and next year it will be the turn of the other knee. Every other week she blogs about her (patchwork) family, care in the Netherlands, her knee and other things that occupy her.
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