MARK (twisting my leg one way): Does that hurt?
ME (on my stomach): Ow! Yes!
MARK: Okay, rate it on a scale of one to ten.
ME: Eight! Nine!
MARK (twists knee the other way): And now?
ME: Yes, that hurts also!
MARK: How much, one to ten again?
ME: Ow! Eight!
In fact, there was no twisting today, just me doing squats that made me squint ("Three!") and realizing that I haven't been doing nearly enough of my stretches this week. He drew lines on my calf and had me walk on a pad and then run on a treadmill, then showed me a movie which had me going, "Nice curves!" but had him criticizing my calf wiggle as the sign of an unsteady step ("See that there? You're doing this little 'pop' at the end of your stride. And you're a heel striker.") Apparently a £250 set of orthotics could further reduce my knee pain, but given that insurance would not cover a penny of it, it's just going to have to wait for that glorious point in the future when I'm able to contemplate purchases that are not vitally necessary to life, one of them likely being a new set of freaking glasses, which I also need since mine appear to be lost for all time (thank you, personal anti-gravity field).
One thing that is true: after my appointment was nearly over, I did squats again, and they hurt like hell. "The walking has aggravated it," he said. Great. Now instead of a slightly creaky knee I ache from my hip all the way to my calf. This is not how I was expecting to feel this afternoon, that's for sure.