Pavement's Revenge (2)

Now it probably seems like I have some kind of vendetta against Turkish pavement, but I swear it is out to get me.

Early last year, in a cold winter period, I went for a run in the snow. As I approached Zincirlikuyu, this evil patch of paving, hiding under the snow, grabbed my foot and threw me to the floor. (The photo on the left was taken a few days later, once the snow had cleared)

I stood up and found that my arm wasn't moving properly, as it had popped out of it's socket. 

Fortunately, I was by a cab rank, and a helpful taxi driver took me to the nearest hospital. I say "helpful", he then proceeded to follow me in to the hospital to chase me for the 3 lira I had left out of his fare* (I'd chosen not to take much money out with me, as I was running).

What followed was a farcical debacle where I was left alone for a couple of hours waiting for the doctor, who strolled in and informed me - using his years of medical training and knowledge - that I had dislocated my shoulder. The next couple of hours was spent waiting for the hospital to communicate with my insurance company. 

Meanwhile, I tried to exhibit a shining example of British reservedness, but instead found screaming at just about anybody in the building, demanding they "just put my f****** arm back, now!!" 

Eventually I was wheeled to the operating theatre for the reduction procedure. The last thing I remembered before being knocked out was the surgeon connecting me to the wrong drip, before correcting his mistake and sending me to sleep.

I went back to the scene of the crime a few weeks later, arm in sling, and there it was, the despicable, violent patch of pavement, neatly relaid and smoothed out.

Sitting there, grinning at me, pretending nothing had happened.

I hate it.

(* not a standard representation of all Turkish cab drivers)

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