Progress Report 12
Brian J. Sullivan
From now on you can call me the weatherman. Through the skill of my surgeon and his exact placement of two three-inch-long titanium alloy screws, I have since been able to accurately predict changes in the weather 12 hours before the front arrives.
For instance, I am predicting heavy rain for late tomorrow afternoon (1-2 inches), strong winds, and temperatures in the mid 90s with high humidity, followed by a cooling trend.
It's official—I won't be running any more marathons any time soon. What should normally take 15 minutes—to walk the path around the park—now takes me over an hour. I should be shedding tears of joy at the removal/replacement of my hard cast with a walking cast. However, these are tears of pain as I learn to walk again, one half-step at a time. Babies crawling in the grass are faster than me, and that really hurts!
So off with the walking cast and on with the roller blades. Speed is everything, BABY! The rigid skates support my ankle more firmly than the walking cast but allow much more freedom of movement and without the pain. Ah, a breath of fresh air and the wind in my hair. I feel great, but look outrageous as I fly around the curves with crutches held outright. "Look out, I'm coming through", I yell. But it's too late. A little old lady in a wheelchair with a Pomeranian on a leash pulls out in front of me. Luckily I miss running over her dog; however, the blue haired lady did not fair so well. When I was finally extricated from the spokes of her wheel chair, she was already on a stretcher heading toward the ambulance, her condition unknown.
I begin to fret; how am I going to explain this latest episode to the orthopedic doctor on my next visit? He'll flip out.
Well, one good thing—my weather functioning screws are still intact, and aside from the storm brewing inside the doctor's office, clear skies should be coming our way.