Oh, Wonderous Life

For those unaware, last summer was an eventful one if only for one reason: after spending the day at a street fair, a few close friends came over and we made the night merry again. The hour became late and all decided to retire save for myself and a young fellow by the name of Charles. We decided to venture down to the lake to take in the air and, if the mood hit, maybe take a drunken dip.

The mood hit me and only me.

I de-robed and pumped myself up. Deep breath and a leap of faith. The water was a mere three inches and due to the fact that I was not expecting such a shallow end I landed weird and snapped my left foot. I was casted and handicapped for the remainder of the summer. Good times.

Fast foraward to last night.

Johnny and I have been swimming regularly to thwart the ever-approaching 30-year-old gut. Both of us are fairly experienced having swam competitively in high school and, if I dare say so, have also retained quite a nice-looking stroke complete with whip-fast flip turns. Anyone who has raced aquatiacally knows that one of the few injuries regularly sustaind is coming too close to the wall and when the legs flip the heels can catch on the gutter causing immense pain. I’d done it once in high school. Oh, and again last night.


I stopped and massaged my heels for a second and grimaced. The initial shock wore off and continued to finish my mile. Because swimming is relatively a zero-impact sport things like injured joints, bones, and the like are rarely felt in the water. It is all muscle and tendon, breathing and charging on. I felt good, wonderful in fact, and pulled myself out of the water.


My right heel was already swollen and deep red. I had a painful limp but thought to worry later. We parted ways and I biked home to let the bitch out. (Biking didn’t hurt, either, due to the fact that there was no pressure on my heel.) I had planned on taking for a full-on adventure along the lake where we can both agle at the raccoons and magnificent view. A few steps out the door and I knew I wasn’t going to make it. A shit and a piss and we were back inside.

Off to work today. The heel was worse for the wear, purple like Grimace and as painful as a Lifetime movie. I hobbled and cursed my way through one of the worst days in a while and decided upon heading to the emergency room after work (my usual doctor was booked until Monday).

Luckily there was a short wait and the doc, a young, polite Indian dude that resembled Kumar of the White Castle fame more than a little, felt and squeezed my foot. He asked me to rate the pain on a scale of 1-10, which I always have trouble with. A 6 for me could be a 10 for someone else, or a 2. Pain is relative but I’ve given up trying to explain that and merely said, “When you squeeze it…RIGHT THERE…it is an 8.”

Cold table and an xray and I was back in the room bypassing the Better Homes and Gardens to focus instead on all the fun instruments to play with. After pocketing a few rubber gloves (there are always reasons to have rubber gloves…non-sexual ones, that is) Dr. ________ came back in and said, “Well, Mr. Rodgers, (I always wait for them to snicker at this point but it rarely happens) you have broken your heel. It is a very minor crack, but a crack nonetheless.”

“Really?! I broke my left foot last year! What’s the deal?! Damn it.”

“Well, the good news is it is very minor, like I said, so you should only have to be on crutches for a week.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that I saved mine from last year.”

So with only a little gauze for padding I am crutched again. Good, blessed world what is next on the agenda? Can you give my dog cancer and then maybe my arm could get caught in some heavy machinery. Wow. The possibilities.

One Response to “Oh, Wonderous Life”
  1. April says:

    Mr. Rodgers, I love that.

    And I thought I was the only one who could hurt themselves in a pool, probably the least dangerous place for a sober human over the age of 10.

    But due to terrible depth perception I ran face first into the side of a pool not too long ago. I didn’t break my nose, but I had a righteous scab leading from my forehead all the way down to my chin.

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