The speed with which I was afflicted was shocking, Wordy. I was walking along one morning and I suddenly couldn't walk, and my right knee felt like it was on fire.
Of course, being me, I pretended it wasn't happening convinced myself it would get better with a bit of rest and carried on as per normal - or as normal as it's possible to be hopping on one leg like Dudley Moore auditioning to be Tarzan in the 'One Leg Too Few' sketch.
I even got myself a flowery walking stick to help take the weight off the knee. ]
But Cafecito and yourself have given me an idea. I smashed an arm up while on the piste and had a delightful dalliance with it pinned by a charming surgeon.
Not one stitch or staple was used to repair the damage with the result that, other than a few little pinhead size marks whch only show on my arm after I've tanned, there's no visible scars of the zip variety.
I'm so vain wondering if I should go get a consult at an alpine hospital, although it will be little short of torture for me to be anywhere near a ski slope and be unable to indulge.