broken knees + ticks

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If you're squeamish, don't read on!
After settling the kids on the sofa, I decided to take a relaxing bath. My InStyle was open at What's Hot for S/S '11, when my small son raced into the bathroom:
“I hate my sister, she won't let me watch It's Me or the Dog!"
 I soon realized we were on the brink of a full-blown tantrum. With one eye on my precious magazine, I yanked my leg over the bath and slipped on the wet terracotta.
“Mummy, you've gone a funny color. Look at your leg!”
Excruciating agony ensued.
I immediately forgave my daughter for hogging the TV, as she ran upstairs with two packets of frozen peas. She told me to hold the peas tightly to my knee, which I dutifully did.
The next morning, my knee was black and blue. I drove to the ER and limped down the corridor. Shaking their heads, the doctors told me there was a 60% chance that the knee was broken.
“No, no, no. It can't be broken. I don't do broken. We are putting our raspberry fence up this week.”
“Signora, if it's broken, you'll be in a cast for six weeks.”
The room started to spin and I was in sheer panic. They wheeled me to the X-ray department, where I looked into the eyes of the technician pleading with him to say everything was OK.
“Signora, please be calm, I can't concentrate.”
I had just been verbally slapped around the face.
Half an hour later, an Orthopedic Surgeon confirmed that nothing was broken and that the Allies had liberated Italy with worse injuries. My head hung low, I hobbled out of the hospital and vowed never to step into that building again.
Two weeks later, my knee had recovered. It was raining.  We couldn't continue with the fence or prune the olive trees, so we decided to go out for lunch. Suddenly, I noticed something black stuck to my skin. I could see a plump grey body with two pincers stuck into my - steady yourselves - left breast!
“Olive oil, Mummy, it will suffocate the beast.”  
We doused the locality and then wanting to be immediately rid of the offending parasite, I plucked him off. It didn't work, half of him was still stuck in my chest. There were no two ways about it, I had to return to the dreaded ER.
I gingerly walked through the swing doors. They banged shut behind me. 
“Signora, Benvenuta! What have you done this time?”
”Oh only a little tick, it's stuck to my ….” I nodded to the offending area.
“ Anesthetic?”
“You're English, you won't need anesthetic.”
The room started to spin again. I didn't even notice the humongous needle they were prepping for my Tetanus jabs.
“Drop your drawers and bend over.”
And...well, I'll leave the rest to your imagination. Suffice to say, a stiff Grappa went down very nicely later that evening!

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