Injury redux

I phone the doctor's surgery. My x-ray results should be back by now; I'm told to phone back in a couple of days. There is a backlog. I think of my car troubles -- delays and complications and frustrations -- and wonder if my luck extends to ankles.

A dull throb develops in my left ankle, a resurgence of the old injury I cannot explain. I danced on Friday night, but I've danced for longer recently without incident. I drove for three hours on Monday morning, but I've driven for longer recently without incident. Maybe my body wants my declarations of pain to convince when next I see the doctor, and thus reminds me of previous ankle aches.