This morning I put my unlucky sandals up on eBay. Other people have sold sillier items for more $$, so I figure, "What the heck!" And, since I'm tired of begging you people to donate to me, now you can actually buy something from me! Or, alternatively, you can help me out by spreading the word! Tell everyone you know about the auction, especially those folks that are super generous.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Donn and Ann H., accompanied by Ann T. (henceforth known as Donn and Ann2, pronounced, "Donn and Ann Squared"), came for a brief visit on Thursday. For the second time in as many weeks, relatives have stopped by and wanted to take us out to dinner. I was invited but my answer, both times, was "Hell, no!" Normally, I would have jumped at an offer of free food, but after a day at work, hobbling around on the crutches, I'm exhausted and really only want to sit and have a beer or two with the boot off and my foot elevated.
As Donn and Ann2 were leaving, Ann H. said she would visit my site to read the humorous account of how I broke my leg. So, I guess I'd better write it.
After a Mickey D's drive thru breakfast, I met Larry and Jym at the golf course at 8:30 Sunday morning. We walked through the dewy grass to the tee box and waited for a foursome to get on the green before we teed off.
The first hole it a 382 yard Par 4. It's pretty much a straight shot from tee box to green. The fairway is flanked by two 6-7 foot tall swells that run about 50 yards to a depression in front of the green about 10 feet below the green, and an oak tree to the right of the green. My tee shot sliced across the golf cart and into the trees lining the 9th fairway, about 125-150 yards. Larry wound up in a stand of trees on the left of the fairway on top of the tall hill. Jym landed in the middle of the fairway, with a perfect approach to the green.
I found my ball and decided to try a punch shot through the trees and back into the first fairway. Naturally, I flubbed the shot, and dribbled it about twenty yards foreward. Jym's shot landed on the green, and Larry. . .well, let's just say Larry need a machete to get to his ball. My third shot landed at the base of the green, behind, of course, the tree. Larry's third shot blasted from the trees and sailed clear across the green. Fortunately, Larry was in the Navy and had a good supply of descriptive phrases.
My fourth shot almost sailed over the green to land in the rough. Larry and I chipped up onto the green, me lying 6 and Larry lying 5. We both two putted. Jym, though had parred the hole.
The second hole is a 340 par 4. You have to shoot over a creek, across a creek and down to a broad, almost treeless, little plain that seems incredibly far away. Jym dropped his ball
into the fairway 100 yards or so from the green. Larry hooked his shot into the only thick stand of trees on the hole, near a seasonal creek bed. Normally, on this hole, I put my ball to the right of the fairway between two small (about 6' tall) trees. This time, though, I landed in the fairway, 175 yards from the pin! Larry's second shot dropped into another cluster of cedar trees to the left of the hole, perilously close to the seasonal creek full of rocks. As the creek approached the cart path, the banks have been covered with cement, and there is always a small pool of water right beside the bridge that goes to the green. Jym's second shot dropped just short of the green, close enough to put. I lined up my shot, and hit the ball. It arched into the air and started to descend into thepool of water near the bridge! Dammit! Fortunatly, though, the ball landed on the other side of the creek, bounced off the concrete bank and landed on the green 10 yards from the hole! Praise Jebus!
Jym and I waited for Larry to pitch his way to the green from amongst the shrubbery. Jym chipped his third shot onto the green only inches from the cup. Jym parred, and I two-putted for par. Larry wound up with a 5.
Glowing with pride at how well my game was going, we went to the third tee box, where the foursome before us let us play through.
The third hole is a 475 yard par 5 that I have never parred. From the tee both, you shot across a creek and on top of a bluff at least 40 feet high. Oak trees line the bluff, except for a 30-40 yard gap indicating the fairway. My success rate getting onto the fairway is 60-40%, and 9 time out 10, if I clear the bluff, I slice into the oak trees and windup losing my ball anyway. This was one of those 9 times. From the tee box it appeared as if the ball landed behind the oak trees, perhaps on the fairway of the 5th hole. Jym landed in the fairway again, and Larry sliced into a thin stand of trees beside the cart path.
Naturally, I couldn't find my ball once we got on top of the bluff. I walked up a slicht incline onto the 5th fairway and looked, but couldn't see it. I turned and started back down. My left foot slipped in the dew, and my right toe caught in the grass. I fell foreward and heard the sound of a branch breaking, and screamed as I landed on my face and rolled down the little incline.
I thought, "I broke my fucking ankle!"
Short story made far too long, an ambulance came and picked me up and I spent the next two days in the hospital. I never did get a refund for the 16 unplayed holes. Larry and Jym finished the round and each broke 100. The bastards.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Since everyone is curious about my ankle, here's the update:
The pain is mostly gone, though I do get some twinges every now and again. However, the selling hasn't gone down much. My toes look like Vienna Sausages, and my foot looks like a baloon.
Next Thursday I'm scheduled to have the screws removed. I don't know if I'll be able to walk or not, but with Oktoberfest around the corner, I hope so.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
I have been off work for about 15 days now, counting Sundays. One of the surest signs that it's time to go back to work, at least for me, is to dream about it. And last night, I did.
I dreamt I had a dozen voicemails. So, Dr. Freud, what do you think?
It's about time to go back to work. the History Channel has stopped their coverage of World War II and have spent the last couple of days exploring the Bible and prophets like Nostradamus. No doubt a reaction to Hurricane Katrina.
Friday, September 02, 2005
I am firmly convinced that orthopedic surgeons love inflicting pain.
I had the staples from my surgery removed yesterday, and it fel like the nurse was pulling 20 hairs on either side of my leg. That took a while to disappear. Then they brought out "The Boot." A steel and nylon contraption, the boot is much lighter than the splint. however, in an effort to get my foot to nuetral, or 90 degrees to the leg, they have to keep pushing up on the ball of my foot. If feels like my toe is touching my nose.
On the 22nd, they will remove the two horizontal screws, and I might be able to walk again! on the upside, I'll get one of those "I have an implant" cards for the airport screeners.