It takes you by surprise for a split second, and then you know the wave of excruciating pain is coming. Again, it takes a split second to kick in - but once it does!! Holy heck!
I was writhing in agony; Isla thought Mum had gone mad and was trying to get away from me; I was trying to rein her back in, worried she was going to take off.
The whole thing was a pain in the ankle. I had also not taken my phone with me, so I had no choice but to hobble home and cry on the couch with a pack of baby peas.
Thankfully, a wonderful physio friend of mine came over in the afternoon and said that yes, it would indeed need some help.
By this point, the ankle was the size of a tennis ball, and I realised that yes, he might be right - it’s going to take more than a bag of baby peas.
Now, after one moon-boot, one epic physio called Sophie, an x-ray for a potential fracture, and two weddings to officiate at where I had to wear extra-long pants to hide the cankle, I think it’s finally feeling better.
Let this be the last ACC claim for a while, please. Well, at least until Robbie Williams at the Mission Concert, where I will no doubt roll it again!