I have read your columns and I regard you as one of the best writers in the region and not just your cricket articles. Though I never met you, it was my plan to look you up on my visit back home, COVID put an end to that and my travel is now non existent.
Keep the faith.
Khuda Hafiz always.
Probably since the year began, my legs, from my knees down, have been swollen and painful. Walking is difficult. My soles and the palms of my hand were burning and I could tell my circulation was off. I went to the doctor, thinking I might have become diabetic. That was the beginning of a bout of explorations. It wasn’t diabetes; there were no blood clots, my kidneys were fine, but a lot of tests transpired (some routine): countless blood samples were taken; there were X-rays of my upper back, my chest, my lower back; an echocardiogram; ultra sounds; a colonoscopy which led to two CT scans, an overnight stay at the hospital and more blood tests
It was the MRI that confirmed what the doctors had suspected: my lower spine is degenerating.
All the while, my legs have remained swollen, the left one much more than the right, and walking is a hop-and-drop affair. The pain is constant and loud, like you have walked briskly into the edge of a coffee table and banged your shin. My ankle looks like a balloon filled with half a cup of water. My leg, as it swells and subsides, feels like a roasted baigan. I feel like my bones are dissolving into jelly
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All the while, my legs have remained swollen, the left one much more than the right, and walking is a hop-and-drop affair. The pain is constant and loud, like you have walked briskly into the edge of a coffee table and banged your shin. My ankle looks like a balloon filled with half a cup of water. My leg, as it swells and subsides, feels like a roasted baigan. I feel like my bones are dissolving into jelly
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