Ok, for your entertainment while healing, and make you feel brave, active and athletic, I present the story of the worst ankle sprain of my life.

I was 19 years old. I was in general terms, fit; I could dash off 15-20 miles anytime I had the time and inclination.

On this occasion, I was standing in line at the bank.

I was holding a random stack of dollars and cents, waiting to have them swapped for krone and ore, as this was 1978 in Oslo at the university.

I had my legs stylishly wrapped around each other, and managed to get the worn out wooden part of my shoe sole in contact with the shiny slippery floor. My foot flew off one direction, my ankle another direction, and my cash scattered in all directions. I passed out.

I came to in the arms of another US student, a guy named Clyde from Florida, I think, as he was plopping me on the counter of the health center, which was conveniently located just upstairs from the bank. Someone else trotted behind, having collected my money off the floor.

The health folks patched me all up and I have been more cautious in bank lines ever since.