1965. 112 minutes long. 6.4 / 10 on the IMDB-orometer. That Darn Cat!
But he wasn’t Siamese… Not on Monday, April 17, 2011 he wasn’t. He was a big bad-ass ginger male – strawberry shortcake was his name – and he ripped my ankle to shreds!
1 hour after The Event, I was as happy as a lemming in a box. The pain I had experienced at time 0 had all but dissipated and I could rotate my foot easily with no discomfort. I wondered what all that gristle-grinding histrionics was all about. My super-human Adamantium skeletal constitution was obviously just too awesome for any one stupid cat to vanquish.
2 hours after The Event… and the Adamantium wasn’t working too well anymore.
So I remembered Jeremy Maggs’ magnanimous offer, and I phoned a friend. Ice ice baby was the 30 seconds of advice I got. So I limped down to the kitchen, threw 2 ice cubes into a kitchen towel and applied the dressing to my foot. It was cold. Duh! But I manned up and kept the pressure applied, removing it periodically to thwart any frost bite gangrene that my over-anxious brain was panicking over.
4 hours after The Event… and the Adamantium was just Adam Ant now. My foot had totally seized up. I couldn’t move it without sharp shards of pain firing up my calves. I tried to walk and could barely apply pressure to it without wincing like a baby girl.
I hobbled down the stairs. Left foot first. Hold the railing to release the pressure… aaaaand right foot to follow. Repeat. 20 gruelling times. I grimaced my way to the fridge and assembled a second ice-dishcloth sling and applied it tenderly to my useless limb. It helped a bit, but I knew I was doomed. Tomorrow when I woke up, I just knew it would be swollen and blue and I wondered how the emergency helicopter was going to land on my 3 square metres of duplex garden grass.
But before retiring to bed, I remembered one final bit of advice my friend has managed to squeeze in before being cut off. Get some anti-inflams from the chemist tomorrow. Hmmm, I wondered if maybe there was something in my medicine cabinet.
And lo, glowing like a lost artefact 2 hours into an Indiana Jones movie, was a non-expired pack of Cataflam. I popped one of those little puppies into a glass of water and dissolved it. The way they dissolve is so cool. They don’t fizz and pop, they just kinda balloon up into a little marshmallow floating blob thing. No spoon to stir it with – that was downstairs and no way was I attempting that voyage again – so I just twirled my grubby index finger around in the glass.
Downed the drugs – tastes nasty bitter – and settled down to sleep.
The morning arrived… I got out of bed, foot hit and floor… and the pain was almost non-existent. WTF? I took another Cataflam that morning, and one day further on, the pain has almost totally gone. Was it the wonder-drug Cataflam? Was it the icing? Was it the sleep? Was it not that badly damaged in the first place? I’m not sure, but I am very surprised. I’ve used Cataflam before on a very painful muscle spasm and it helped hugely. I’m sold on that drug, and so in my totally non-medical opinion, I give Cataflam the credit for my super fast recovery.
And yes, the title of this posting was rather sensational wasn’t it. Sue me.