07.02.02
oops...i did it again
When I left you all, I was a mere uni-ped with one leg in a cast because of a torn achillies. (See original story)
You'll never guess what I did this weekend...
I was driving down the shore Friday morning with Brian, listening to the same Punk covers CD that I had made. We joked about the 'deja-vu'-ness of that moment. That only 5 weeks earlier, we were in the car, on the same road, listening to the same CD and that evening yielded disasterous results.
We made it to the beach house at 3:00 and immediately made it a Jimmy Buffet themed afternoon with fruity margaritas and tunes. Out on the deck I was getting too hot in the sun, so I made my way to the side of the deck that was in the shade. Finally I had to go to the bathroom. I hopped on my good leg towards the door. I was too impatient to wait for my crutches. I took one hop and POP! I landed in a heap on the deck and rolled over on to my back. In an instant I knew that I did it again and that I was F'd! I couldn't stand up. All I could do was sit on the floor and contemplate God's sick sense of humor. I quickly learned that I didn't do as severe damage to this leg as I did the other one. The tendon wasn't torn, only pulled. I was still able to point and flex my ankle, but with varing degress of pain. My housemates proceeded to get
me hammered. But I still had to go to the bathroom.
Let me tell you, you don't know humilation until you have to be carried, basket style, by two guys into the bathroom. Then have two girls go in with you incase you needed help.
With the shots and the drinks I was fed to mask the pain, most of the evening went by like a movie on fast forward, only pausing on certain areas of the scene.
I remember sitting on the stool inside finally crying into Brian's chest. I was crying to make up for the lack of tears from the first injury. I was questioning God and what could possibly be the purpose of this latest trial of faith. What life lesson could I possibly learn from this?
The rest of the weekend was spent at the beach house, crawling on the floor from the bed, to the couch, to the bathroom and sometimes out onto the deck. I did venture out to Wildwood on Saturday. It was another lesson in humility as I was packed in and out of the car and into the wheelchair that I rented, but I'll let your imagination handle that.
I was the comedic relief. I was threatened to be rolled down the boardwalk stairs into the sand and was forced into involuntary games of chicken with the tramcar. Yeah, it was all '101 Uses For A Gimp' day.
So, there was my weekend. I hope the next time you hear from me I won't be drinking my food from a straw in a full body cast.
10:52 a.m.
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Reading
"Notes From A Small Island"
by Bill Bryson
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