Matt sat waiting impatiently for his name to be called. He hated the waiting system in British hospitals, and had managed to avoid them up until now but, looking down at his leg with its temporary dressing, he knew he would have to learn some patience today.
He grinned to himself, despite his pain, and thought of the tackle that had resulted in his injury – Rosy would be hopping mad when she was told by his team-mates what had happened, and he would, no doubt, get a right ear-bashing from her for ruining his brand new jeans!
It was worth the damage though, as his tackle had managed to prevent the opposing team from gaining on them in the match, and he’d managed to hold on for those few precious seconds until the whistle blew and his team had won, before letting his mates know of the real damage.
With a start, he realised that his name was being called and, with a wince of pain at the movement, he grabbed his cane, and struggled up from the bench where he had been waiting. He looked to make sure he’d left nothing behind then, with more weariness than he liked, began to hobble towards the waiting nurse. He stood as straight as his back would let him, and then grinned to himself with pride – he hadn’t done badly for someone just celebrating his 72nd birthday!