The latest from the arthritic front

The fallout from Liverpool’s FA Cup defeat at Plymouth has been quite consistent – and while this is the price you pay for following a football team to any serious extent, there is a really nice article in the Guardian, which shows the other side of the coin. People consider football teams as part of their family. I know that makes no sense to many, many people – and I can completely understand that – but it is true (at least in my neck of the woods). Football is part of life for so many. The joy it brings, the misery it can cause, the memories it engenders… I went to my first game in 1973 – the UEFA Cup final against Borussia Mönchengladbach. It was a birthday present from my gran. The game was abandoned after 20 minutes because of a torrential downpour that caused flooding. It was replayed the next day – and you could use your original ticket to get in for free. I remember it vividly – going with my gran and uncle, the cheers and screams as we scored three goals, the shock at being around 50,000 people standing and sitting around a field. How could I be anything other than hooked? The Guardian article there captures the magic of the emotions well.
 
The rest of the day, having read the article, was fine. The main event was a phone consultation with Maria from the Arthritis Society. My rheumatologist (the late Dr. Thomson) has at least managed to set that up for me. She was nice and took the piss – even correcting me when I said I used to play soccer and that has been the catalyst for the hip issues. “No,” she said. “You used to play football.” The upshot of it all is that I have to go in for a physical examination and they will only deal with the wrist issues, as the hips are all covered by my surgeon, and Thomson’s notes were too nebulous to understand.
 
I’m in good hands. I hope.