Achilles and the Ravioli

Achilles and the Ravioli

I have reached a certain apex of self-pity. I hope. If it’s still going up, I’m gonna have to blow my whole paycheck on new shoes and hot fudge sundaes just to get through the weekend. Just after my surgery, my mom took me up to PA to mother me in my time of need. I was actually kinda upset she was taking me away from my digital cable, MarioKart, cable modem and air conditioned apartment with a bed to go all the way back home for a week, but she’s my mom and I love her, so I let her. She brought me food, played games with me and got me stuff when I asked. There were spans of probably 24 hours when I literally didn’t leave the couch. It was necessary to recover, but boy was I glad to be back to the life of luxury again. That is, until I found myself crawling across the livingroom floor on my stomach with a plate of ravioli and a glass of milk. Even if nobody’s around, it’s a pretty humiliating and humbling experience.

People are asking me if I feel like I’ll be OK to play volleyball next semester. That would be cool, but right now, I’m just looking forward to being able to get a glass of water into my bedroom without it being such a project. To be able to go down a flight of stairs without getting really nervous. To be able to try to finally get out of the occasional parallel park job on a level road. And the surgeon told me I’d be able to start walking on it with my brace on in the next few days. This chick is full of crap! She must have no idea what kind of pain I’m in. I don’t think she knows what she’s doing. She probably tied a bungee cord between my foot and calf muscle. Shit, I don’t know. Stretch! That’s all I got to say.

Well, I was trying to help out Good Joe with his fantasy football team this year, because he’s been busy making cars and money and mud for the past few months. I told him that this guy named David Akers from the Eagles was a good pick because he was the cheapest starting kicker in the league and you don’t want to go wasting your money on a good kicker because they hardly get you any points anyway. His response was something along the lines of “yeah, but do you think the Eagles are ever gonna get the ball past midfield…”

Quote of the Day 8/31/00

“In fact, can we pick punters.”

-Good Pele

Trust me. It’s funny to fantasy football people. A little.

Don’t call me gimpy,

Gimpy.

Still Stranded Right Here…

Achilles and the 90 Degrees of Torture

Achilles and the 90 Degrees of Torture

Holy living FreaK! Jee-flippin Aaargh gack flicko for the love of Soupy sALes! And dare I say FUCKIN A THIS HURTS! I wish I could make you all feel this pain a little bit. Not because I loathe all of you, but just so you could understand some of the crap that comes out of my fingertips! Hookie Hookie damN!! See, I’ll recap, since a few of you may be lost:

I got the surgery last Wednesday and I had my foot in a cast since then. My foot was angled at about 115 degrees in the plaster cast, which was the resting rate of my other foot. OK. Cool. Then they chopped off the cast today and put me back in the brace. At 90 degrees! They just took my foot with my brand spankin new tendon in it, which hasn’t moved at all in over a week, and shoved it back with all their might, despite the violent ear-piercing cries the 9-year-old schoolgirl in me was letting out at the time. I mean, can’t they at least give me one intermediate step or something? I don’t think they know what the hell they’re doing. Oh, but guess how many staples I had in my leg? Tell you what, write me back with your guess, and if you get it right, I’ll give you one! Sorry just one, but I’m saving the other 17 for family.

Upon having heard about my condition when it first happened…

Quote Of the Day 8/30/00

“The ankle? Again? It’s always the ankle. Except when it’s the knee. Or the shoulder. Or the bersa sac…”

-Russel the two-legged.

I think that about covers all of em. Except that occasional raspberry up around my ass, but I don’t like to talk about them too often.

Love, percaset, and an ice bag thing,

Crutch.

Still Stranded Right Here…

The Bad Day

The Bad Day

Well, I know it’s been a while, but I have got a big little bit of news for y’all. I’ll start by saying that it’s going to make my parking situation a whole lot harder. Among other things. Anyway, I guess when push comes to shove, it was only just a matter of time when it comes to my body, but I finally did it. The mother of all leg injuries. ACL? MCL? DSL? Broken leg? Severed patella? Hyperextended big toe? Not even close. Anyway, I ruptured my Achilles tendon. Completely. Like they told me to save my money on an MRI because it was all the way gone. This actually happened 2 weeks ago and I just underwent surgery yesterday, but I was too busy trying to catch up on all the latest Survivor news, I didn’t get a chance to e-mail you all. So anyway, this has greatly increased my need to get my car fixed. I can’t just be parking off in the middle of nowhere (especially with all the kids coming back to school), and crutching a mile and a half to work and back. I’d get handicap tags, but I wouldn’t be able to back out of the spot anyway. And I can’t just open my door and push with my left foot anymore, being as how I, for all intents and purposes, don’t have one for another 4-6 months. This process is actually probably how it happened in the first place. Moral of the story? Don’t go pushing Oldsmobiles with just your left foot. Or any cars for that matter. And I’m a little concerned about my other Achilles too. I remember when one headlight in my car went out, the other died within a week. I hope the human body is designed by people more competent than Good Joe (no offense, but I like to hope I’m more than built Ford tough).

So how’d it happen? Was I saving small children from a burning building? Was I shaving my legs with a machete? Did I lose a bet? None of the above. I actually did it jumping in the air. Something I’ve done an estimated 27 billion times before. I didn’t land wrong, I didn’t get kicked. Just jump, pop, ouch, bye bye tendon. And everybody I talked to about my injury said that this type of injury was more common to 35-40 yr old men, and I was possibly the youngest person some of the doctors have ever first-hand seen with this injury. So what it takes normal human beings at least 35-40 years to wear out, I’ve managed to get done in only 25 short years. Damn, I’m efficient.

Well, anyway, I should get going. I can actually see my pulse beating in my second toe. When this first happened, I called lots of people to brag about my newest career-sidelining injury. Among the people most impressed was Mike. I was telling him that I was tight because I had played 4 basketball games in a row without stop and my calf muscle was just so tight that when I jumped up in the air one time, the tension was just so much, it popped in half. I actually heard the pop. To this, Mike butted into the conversation…

Quote Of the Day 8/23/00

“By the way, I’m stretching right now. I’m not going anywhere or doing anything anytime today. I’m not even planning on leaving the couch for a few hours. But I’m still stretching.”

-Yelnick McMikey.

Oddly enough, Mike threw out his shoulder later on that day watching Welcome Back, Kotter.

Achilles Heal,

Ole One Leg.

Not standing anywhere for 4-6 months…