Sometimes You're the Windshield
(Sometimes you're the bug)
Ever have one of THOSE days? So do I ! Tuesday was one of THOSE days for me. Too much to do, not nearly enough time, and everything needed to be done NOW. By the time I made it home, I was ready to just collapse. But our singles ward opening social started at 9pm at Classic Skating, so Terry and I toddled off to set things up. Holly and Alicia soon joined us; the boys elected to sit this activity out.
We soon had a good crowd laughing and teasing, going round and round. I was of course inordinately (and unjustifiably) proud of my modest accomplishments as a skater ... after all, I hadn't fallen all night! Then at about 10:30 they put out THE JUMP.
Now you must understand that I'd seen THE JUMP before. Last January we also had a skating party as the winter opening social, and I'd eyeballed the jump all evening. But I had decided that old guys shouldn't make fools of themselves. No other old guy went off the jump, so I wouldn't either.
I spent a whole year regretting that reasonable conclusion. I mean, there'd been this jump, and I'd been there, and I'd wondered how it would feel, but then I hadn't done anything... It just isn't like me to be reasonable twice!
But of course I didn't want to get TOO rowdy, so I approached the jump at what I judged was a moderate speed. Wrong plan! If you're going to do something foolish, don't be foolish and timid. It's a disaster every time.
I stalled out right on the lip of the jump. I tried to jump forward to the floor, but of course a guy on skate wheels is pretty close to a frictionless experiment, so I got no extra push. My right foot cleared the lip and went on down, but my left foot snagged on the lip and stayed there.
Note to self: If you're going to get hurt attempting something foolish, ALWAYS err on the side of overdoing it! I mean, how bad does it look for a 47-year old guy to stop dead on top of a little two foot jump, hesitate, put one foot on the floor, and then fall over? Pathetic! Where were the legs kicked out sideways? Where the splits and the thrashing arms? Where the great visual images? I just fell over. But my left leg didn't come with me, and I had one of those "oh, rats!" feelings when it folded up the wrong way and made a whole series of strange sounds.
How mortifying! The rink is full of handsome men and pretty women, all of them know me, and I'm laying on the ground a foot off the end of a little black ramp. Most of the guys (and girls) could have gone off the jump and cleared the new "first counselor" hazard without missing a beat! Of course my "macho" genes kicked in instantly. Was I going to lay there and howl? No way! I discreetly oozed to the side of the rink, where I levered myself onto a bench. "I'm just fine!" I assured everyone who asked. Then I unlaced my skates, and after a brief rest I began trekking towards the front of the rink, where I planned to ask Terry to take me home before I embarassed myself by fainting in front of the troops. My ankle didn't like taking weight at all, at all. Oh, no! But it mostly held, and I mostly grinned this stupid fake grin, and I only had to sit down three times before I made it to Terry.
The bishop was ready to leave, so Terry stayed to close up the party and the bishop brought me home. I assured him I was just fine, then waited 'til he left to try and make it to the front door. I did a great hobble-hop, and eventually made it.
The front door was locked. I had no keys. No one answered the doorbell.
It is a long way from the front door to the back door of our house. Maybe we should put in a secret passage. Or a moving sidewalk. Or hire a doorman. Something!
Fortunately the back door was unlocked. I crawled up the stairs, shed my clothes, and oozed into bed. Tomorrow would be time enough to assess the damage.
Wednesday morning I got out of bed, tried one step, and then crawled to the bathroom. Things were not looking up! A trip to the emergency ward confirmed the worst: A broken fibula and a displaced ankle. At least I know why I can't walk!
I saw an orthopedic surgeon this morning, and I'm scheduled for surgery at 4pm tonight. A stainless plate, a few screws, some super glue and a couple months, and I'll be good as new!
In the meantime, I still have my fingers, my portable computer, and a wireless internet connection. So I should be okay.
And next time, I'll really hit that jump hard!
With a battle axe.
[Dale, pictured here, is sulking because he's not getting any sympathy. Somehow, everyone's reaction is, "You did WHAT? While you were doing WHAT? Well, Duh!" And he knows that the worst is yet to come. Because the kids in the ward don't yet know that he broke his leg. He's in for some merciless teasing! But you know, he really does deserve it. I mean, what was he thinking? That he's still twenty?
Well, duh! ;-) ]