It started with a sore knee.

I was sent to A&E by orthopaedics, expecting them to deal with the knee and send me on my way. I was triaged, had blood taken, and then settled in for what turned into hours of waiting.

A couple of people from the village were in, and we got chatting. I’d been holding my wee because I thought they were eventually going to ask me for a urine sample. They didn’t.

Eventually I was bursting, so I announced that I was going to the toilet.

Ten minutes later I still hadn’t returned.

I couldn’t wee.

I went behind the big doors and told the nurse. The orthopaedic doctor was there too and explained that they were concerned I was retaining urine.

They catheterised me.

The nurse hung the bag on my left leg.

I pointed out that it was my other leg that I’d come in about.

They weren’t letting me go home, although I couldn’t initially work out why. I was still there around lunchtime the following day when a smiling face appeared.

Mental-health liaison.

I’d made the unfortunate comment in the toilet that if I wasn’t back in ten minutes, I’d hung myself. I think it was one of the people from the village who heard me say it.

They had taken it seriously, quite rightly, and came to check on me. We talked, they knew me already, and eventually I left A&E catheterised.

And then everything changed.

What had begun as a dodgy knee became urinary retention, urology appointments, prostate investigations and the discovery that I was also dealing with significant kidney disease, at times dipping into stage 4 CKD.

Then came the consultant, and the word I had never heard before:

HoLEP.

Now I’m living with the catheter while waiting for the next stage, dealing with bags, tubing, blockages, Uro-Tainers and all the paraphernalia that comes with having a drainage system attached to you.

One trip to A&E for a sore knee somehow opened the door to a completely different medical journey — prostate surgery, kidney worries and months of catheterisation.

I went in with a dodgy knee.

I came out with a HoLEP, a catheter and a whole new chapter of medical life.

You couldn’t write it.