Jane Barnes, 57, Reading
‘Here we go again,’ I thought as my hubby Steve hobbled through the front door, frowning.
It was April 2013 and, like every Tuesday, he’d been out playing football.
‘My left knee locked,’ Steve, then 50, frowned.
I was used to him arriving home feeling a bit battered.
‘Rest up and ice it,’ I smiled.
Only, as the weeks rolled on, Steve was still grumbling about his knee.
His GP referred him to a physio, who gave him exercises to do.
But despite the workouts, his left leg felt weak.
‘Not better, Dad?’ our daughter Coral, then 20, asked.
‘It’s getting worse,’ Steve admitted.
By October 2013, his left foot dragged behind him.
‘I’m walking like Dad used to,’ Steve fretted.
Is history repeating itself down…
