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Knee Trembler

Just the sight of someone's legs leaves me faint...


Published by: Sarah Veness
Published on: 16th August 2010

As my dad took to the dancefloor, I cringed. We were at a party, and the last thing I wanted was to watch Dad strutting his stuff.
I was 11 years old, trying to act cool… Suddenly, he dropped to the floor and began rolling around.
‘Ignore him, he’s drunk,’ Mum laughed. But Dad wasn’t getting up.
‘My knee,’ he cried, as Mum dashed over to help him.
His leg did look funny. ‘He must have broken it,’ someone said.
But when Mum rolled up his trouser leg, everyone gasped. Where Dad’s knee should have been, there was just saggy, sunken skin.
‘W-what’s happened?’ I asked.
‘He’s dislocated his knee,’ one of the guests told me. ‘See that lump at the side of his leg? That’s his kneecap… it’s twisted round…’
I felt sick. An ambulance took Dad to hospital, where the doctors managed to put it back. He was in a lot of pain because they couldn’t use anaesthetic as he’d been drinking.
Dad was on crutches for six months. Until that day, I’d never known that could happen. Now I was terrified it might happen to me.
Soon, I couldn’t look at knees at all, so I avoided gym class and swimming. Mum and Dad noticed. ‘Don’t worry,’ Mum said. ‘The chances of it happening are slim.’
Then when I was 17, I was out dancing with friends. ‘Watch me do the splits,’ I said. As I sank to the floor, a pain shot through my leg.
‘Urgh… look at your knee!’ one pale-faced mate yelled. ‘It’s sticking out the side of your leg.’
 Sure enough, I’d dislocated my knee. ‘No!’ I screamed hysterically. My worst fear had come true.
Luckily, it popped back by itself when I was loaded into the ambulance. All I needed was a check-up before being sent home.
But my phobia soared out of control. Not only was I terrified of other people’s knees, I couldn’t bear people near mine. And I stopped wearing shorts or skirts.
Aged 18, I started going out with Chris Bayliss from college. ‘You’re the girl who’s freaked out about knees, aren’t you?’ he grinned.
‘That’s me,’ I smiled weakly. Chris liked football but, when I went to watch him play, I had to leave. ‘I’m sorry but… all those knees…’ I muttered.
Even down the pub, I couldn’t relax, afraid someone would brush past my knee. But Chris put up with it all. Then last year, he proposed.
At my wedding dress fitting, though, I panicked as the seamstress pinned my dress. ‘Don’t touch my knees,’ I cried. ‘I’ve got a real thing about it.’
‘I’ll try,’ she said.
And then Chris wanted to go to Kenya on our honeymoon. ‘What about the people on the beach with their knees out?’ I fretted.
‘I’ll be there,’ Chris soothed.
‘And won’t people be wearing shorts on safari?’ I rambled on.
‘We’ll deal with it,’ he smiled.
‘No, I’ll deal with it,’ I sighed. ‘This has gone on long enough.’
So I went to see a counsellor. My fear of knees actually has a name – genuphobia. Just talking about it made me feel better. By the time we got married in May, I was ready to see knees.
But in Kenya, everyone wore trousers for safari. At our luxury hotel the beach was deserted.
‘All that hard work, and not a knee in sight!’ Chris chuckled.
‘Just ours,’ I smiled.
The thought of a pair of knobbly knees still sends me a bit wobbly – for all the wrong reasons.
But I’m definitely not as bad as I used to be, I could even grow to like knees. Marrying Chris was the bee’s knees after all!
Sarah Bayliss, 26, Gosport, Hampshire