My breath catches as I look down on the busiest beach I’ve ever seen. Navigating anywhere on crutches is difficult, let alone a stretch of sand with thousands of people packed onto it. This was a stupid idea but since I’m here it’d be pointless to leave without even stepping foot on it. I manoeuvre my way down the steps and find a space at the top of the beach. In the past, I would have sat closer to the water but now, I’d be tempted to go in which is not a good idea. I don’t think people know what to do to help a comatose person with a number of dislocated joints. Dropping my crutches I sit down carefully, trying not to jerk my legs. I watch the lifeguards who stand sentinel over the sea. Periodically, one sprints into the water and comes back with a person or two: the people with not enough common sense to know that if you can’t swim, nothing will save you especially when you don’t pay attention to the signs. Even from here I can see them- the signs- bright yellow with a bold, black diagram so anyone should be able to get the gist of it but no, there’s the tell-tale pile of bags at the base of the post: almost certainly the belongings of those non-swimmers who owe their lives to the ‘boys in blue’.
My focus moves to a couple and their children siting a few metres away. They are a typical middle-class family: mum, dad and two kids, one about 4 and the other 8 or so. The mother lays back to sunbathe while the father and elder child go towards the water. After a few minutes, the young boy wanders in the opposite direction and I watch him closely, in case he forgets his way back. Sure enough, after just a few minutes, the boy turns suddenly, looking terrified and starts to sob. I look around to see if anyone else has noticed but they’re all too busy with their own lives. He starts to walk further away so I stand, twisting my knee in the process which sends a sharp pain through my body. I don’t even start to panic since that’s exactly what the crutches are for. I put as little weight as I can manage through that leg and follow the boy. “Hey,” I whisper, trying to sound kind and calming, “Are you lost? Should we find your mummy?” He nods, his eyes still streaming. “You just walk next to me and we’ll go back to your mummy.” I tell him as I turn around, making sure he follows. I walk back to where I was sat but can’t see the mother anywhere. “We’re going to go see the nice lifeguards now. They’ll know where your mummy is.” I say and he nods again. The pain starts to get worse as the muscles go into spasm but there’s no way I’ll get up the stairs so we have to walk the long way, to the ramp and then back across the promenade. “Do you want to knock for me?” I ask him and he nods, knocking hard. A brown haired lifeguard opens the door. “Is he lost?” he asks and I nod. As he looks to the boy he must notice my leg. “You walked on that?” he asks incredulously and I laugh slightly but the pain is ever-increasing. “That’s the point of these,” I nod to the crutches.
“Taco! We have a kid we need you to help out!” he says, laughing, as he leads the boy inside and up the stairs. A lifeguard smiles and beckons the child up the stairs. “I think we already found your mummy,” he says, playing with a monitor, “Is this her?” The boy nods exaggeratedly before 'Taco' radios saying the boy has been found.
“Now we need to sort you out.” He looks like he’s going to shout something to ‘Taco’ (probably about an ambulance) but I shake my head.
“Just ice thanks,” I smile half-heartedly, wondering if they’ve ever heard of a case like mine. He looks confused.
“It’s dislocated... To be honest it’s pretty bad. How’s ice gonna help?”
“Trust me,” I whisper, teasing him slightly- humour is the easiest way to get people to relax around me and I need him to help me. He leads me to a medical bed and helps me up before handing me ice which I position carefully over one side of my knee. The lady from the beach comes in and picks up her son, sobbing.
“I don’t know what happened. He knows not to go away from me. Thank you so much.” She says to the lifeguards. It looks like the guy in front of me is going to tell her about me but I shake my head. He smiles slightly, seeming confused.
“Now let’s sort this knee okay? You still need an ambo right?” I laugh, trying to imagine getting an ambulance every time this happened and shake my head.
“If you’re squeamish just don’t look.” I tell him, lifting the ice and moving my leg over the side of the bed. I take a deep breath before easing it towards me slowly, gritting my teeth. After the dizziness subsides I open my eyes to see the lifeguard looking awed. “Thanks for the ice,” I say, laughing at his shock.
“Umm.. uh.. What if it’s not in right?”
“I think I’d know. It’s not like it’s the first time, generally at least once a day something subluxes, twice a week it’ll dislocate especially my wonderful knee here.” I laugh again at his face, “Not seen that before then?” He shakes his head.
“That’s like the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. How can you deal with that every day? What’s your name?” As the conversation turns to pity I decide it’s gone on long enough.
“Brooke, but don’t worry I’ll get going. You guys do a great job by the way. And thanks, I can’t do it as well without the ice.”
“No. Wait. I’m Chappo, well Chris but I’ll answer to either, and you’ve just earned yourself a free lunch, courtesy of me. I really should keep an eye on you too.” He teases and I smile, he’s one of the first people whose not ran away at the first thought of my illness. He grabs my phone and types, what I assume is, his number in. I hand him mine too. “I’m on lunch in an hour or so. I’ll call and we can meet up.” I don’t have time for men romantically but maybe I’ve made my first friend since diagnosis.
