Between the Bridges in Broad Channel

Putting My Best Foot Forward for the New Year!

There is an old Irish curse which goes something like this: “May those that love us love us and those that don’t love us may God turn their hearts.  If he can’t turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so that we may know them by their limping!”

I mention this because somewhere along the line during 2015 the Good Lord must have encountered some difficulty in “turning” my heart because just prior to Christmas I took a tumble outside my home on West 12^th Road and suffered what I initially thought was nothing more than a badly sprained ankle.  Grace and the girls took one look at the offending appendage and stated in unison, “that looks broken, why don’t you go to the doctor and get an X-ray?”  Needless to say, my ex-Marine male ego chafed at the thought of seeking medical attention for such a slight ailment and I stoically (stupidly?) assured everyone that the condition would take care of itself over a week or so.  After hopping around on it for almost two weeks the pain and swelling had yet to subside and just before New Years my family staged an intervention and whisked me off to be examined by an individual who actually had attended an accredited medical school.

After viewing X-rays of the swollen foot, my physician looked at me somewhat quizzically and stated, “I have good news, bad news and then a serious question.  The good news is that you didn’t sprain your ankle. The bad news is that you broke your foot in two places.  My question is what the hell took you almost two weeks to get in here to have it looked at?”  Before I could come up with some sort of explanation, the physician’s assistant present in the area started laughing and answered on my behalf stating, “It’s not his foot that needs an X-ray, it’s his head!”  It was then explained to me in detail that the fractured bones had attempted to knit over the past 2 weeks but were prevented from doing so by my bouncing around on the broken foot like a lunatic.

Of course there were the myriad asides on the part of my clan who found my physical distress to be more than just a little amusing. “Told you so”….”Dad’s stepping out for New Years!”...”Look, it’s Gomer Pyle on crutches!”…”The big guy fall down go boom!”...“Dad don’t need no stinking doctor!”..."Thank God we didn't get Dad a Hover-Board for Christmas!" Grace even mentioned that since she is now convinced that I have two left feet she would stop by the Dollar Store and pick me up a pair of “Flip-Flips” if she could find them!  Possibly the best zinger came from a neighbor (who shall remain unnamed) who, upon spying me hopping around with a cane, remarked that I looked like Carl Fredricksen, the balloon salesman from the Disney movie “Up.” 

As 2016 gets firmly underway this week I find myself armed with crutches, canes, a soft boot, a CD containing the x-ray pictures of my fractured foot and a myriad of other accessories that can be found in the Fractured Foot First Aid for Dummies text book while constantly playing Gene Pitney’s 1961 song “Town Without Pity” just to annoy the hell out of my family!

Broad Channel – why would anyone want to live anywhere else?