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I wanted to entitle this with the words, bend over but I was concerned that the myLot Word Police would consider it a tad risqué. So you got something else, you lucky bunch of misfits. I went to see the GP yesterday. She {wo-}manhandled my legs ... pushed them this way and that way, up and down, round and round, do the hokey-cokey ... and then she asked me to bend over and touch my toes. Which I did. Heavens! I didn't know I could touch my toes. I was so proud of myself that I quite fancied doing a little jig around the surgery, but you know, knee and all that jazz. She doesn't think it's my joints. My back is perfect. I popped back to the surgery this morning so that the vampire nurse could steal three vials of my blood, and if I hear nothing it means all is well with everything. In the meantime I have some anti-inflammatory gel to rub on my knee. My knee still hurts even after it's been applied, and last night - in bed - I was still in agony. *sigh* After I left the surgery yesterday morning I remembered that there were a lot of things I forgot to tell her. I forgot to tell her how exhausted I always am, both mentally and physically. I forgot about the odd little things like the nausea and the pain that comes and goes in my foot/ankle. I didn't bother telling her about how I don't think my antiD's are working anymore ... there's only so much a girl can deal with at any one time, you know? And that's the tale of my visit to the doctor.