For six weeks I had February 28th circled on the calendar. This was the day my misery would end! This was the day my mobility would return! When things would make sense again!
And...
Well...
Not so much.
The cast is gone! That is nice. My right leg looks like my grandmother's, but that is okay. I have some work to do to get my mammoth calf back. I have calves that Johnny Drama would want!!
But the crutches are still here. Ugh! Oh, the humanity!! It appears that my doctor doesn't want me attempting to walk on it until after the results of my follow up MRI come in. Unfortunately, the follow up MRI isn't even scheduled to take place until next Tuesday. Next Friday I am scheduled to go over the results.
Funny, you'd think they would have scheduled this MRI to be done, oh I don't know, maybe February 28th!! And if I still need the crutches, then why the hell did they take the cast off? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it is gone. But if the doctor is afraid that my foot isn't healed or if further damage can be done, so much so that I still require the crutches, then why take me out of the cast? And since my foot needs to be secure for the MRI to begin with, what better way for the MRI to be done than with my foot in a cast? There is very little danger of me moving my foot while in the cast.
The worst part is that I am still crutching around, only with a regular sock and a shoe on my right foot. So I look like the hypochondriac jackass who turned his ankle playing pick up basketball at the Y who just wants to crutch around for a day because his ankle hurts. It reminds me of the time my father was having some issues with his contact lenses. Technology like contact lenses is simply too complex for my dad, he should have just stuck with glasses. But he was having trouble with one of them and he kept complaining about it and so on and so forth. I work with my dad and one day we had a meeting with a potential client. I get to the meeting first and I'm small talking with this guy when this guy gets a frozen look of shock on his face. I turn over my shoulder and there is my dad, wearing an eye patch! I always wondered what Steve "Patch" Johnson's issues were. Must have been a faulty contact lens. (Yeah, I just referenced 'Days of Our Lives'. I'm cool with that!)
I was afraid of looking like one of these guys and sure enough, I went to the store last night to pick up some dinner. I walk in right as this dad and his little girl are walking in. This girl is about five years old and she is just staring at me, my crutches, and my seemingly fine right foot I had dangling in the air. So she asks her dad, "What's wrong with that man?" This dude looks me up and down, sees my bandage-less foot, rolls his eyes and says, "I don't know honey, looks like he hurt himself." And the girl kept staring at me. I love kids. I have one. I used to be the director of a children's summer day camp. And yet throughout this whole crutched process, that little girl came the closest of getting one of my crutches upside the head! I wanted to tee off on her like a 3-wood!
Make no mistake though, even if the doctor gave me the green light to try walking, I don't think I'd be able to do it. The discomfort is way more than I imagined it would be. I can stand still on both feet just fine. But if I even think of transferring the majority of my weight to the right foot all sorts of bells and whistles go off. Even range of motion exercises hurt quite a bit, but it is sort of a no pain, no gain thing, and I have been encouraged to do those. And this morning I drove with my right foot rather comfortably. But I sort of thought I was going to be Superman and running on the treadmill last night. Not the case.
The best part of yesterday though was my first castless shower in six weeks! This was probably one of the best showers I have ever had. I can't recall any other great showers. I'm sure there were a few. But this one was right up there! The best part was taking one of those pumice stones to my foot and leg to grind off six weeks worth of dead skin cells! I felt like I was molting! I enjoy feeling like an insect. The pain sucks, but I enjoy getting a sunburn because I know that I'll be able to peel. Good times!!
So anyhow, I guess until I get confirmation from my MRI that my foot is healed I am still Rob With The Broken Foot. So the adventures continue. Stay tuned.
2.29.2008
2.22.2008
One Week To Go!!
Man! Five weeks down, one to go!! Where has the time gone? These past five weeks have gone by like, well, five weeks I guess. As much of a pain in the arse these cast and crutches have become, you'd think that I'd be doing crutched cartwheels over the thought of only one more week of this hell. But I'm pretty indifferent about it.
Firstly, this hellish situation hasn't exactly been as hellish as I thought it would be. I really haven't stopped doing anything because of the broken foot. Still drive. Still go to work. Still went shopping. Still went to hockey games and the theater. Still got on a plane and went on vacation to Miami. So my life hasn't been drastically different because of this. I certainly haven't become a hermit living only in my living room. My wife wishes I were a little more able bodied around the house, but I can't say that missing out on house chores is "hellish".
And while there is the odd inconvenience, usually involving where to put my crutches when not using them, at the end of these six weeks I'm not going to feel like I missed out on anything. So there's that.
B) Standing between me and the big bright light at the end of the tunnel is a business trip to Denver. I just think it really sucks that I have to wait until after this trip to get the cast sawwed off. C'mon, are 4 days really going to make a difference!!? Even though the Miami trip went well (Other than falling flat on my face in the bathroom at the Miami airport.), and everything to this point has gone by rather uneventfull, I just have a sneaky feeling something will go awry with this Denver trip. I don't know whether it will have something to do with the flights or something that will happen at the seminar I am attending or whatever, I just have this sinking feeling that some sort of horrible, crutch-related circus act is going to happen on this trip. I hope I am wrong. So even though I have just one week to go, and theorhetically this trip will probably make this week go by even faster, I'm still not going to do that crutched cartwheel until I return.
Also, I'm not sure I'm all that excited to be walking again. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather walk than crutch! And if I could, I'd tear this cast off right now and walk the best I could. But I remember when Manhattan Mike had a similar foot ailment a few years back and I actually drove him to the doctor on our lunch break to have the cast removed. I remember him hurting when he took his first step out of the cast. I laughed because I thought he was kidding, but he wasn't.
And I think I know what he felt. I have accidentally slipped up a few times lately and put a limited amount of weight on my broken foot. Yeah, that doesn't feel too good. Not in a "Holy crap, this sucker is still broken" sort of way, but rather a "Man, I haven't used this thing in 5 weeks and it is going to be uncomfortable to put all of my weight on it" way. It isn't a pain though. It is more of an extreme numbness, does that make any sense? Like, you know that tingly sensation you get when your foot falls asleep? Well, it feels like that, times a million! And this is only with a very small amount of weight put on it. So while I am looking forward to walking again next Thursday, I'm not looking forward to that.
Plus, the doctor isn't being too forthcoming regarding my post cast rehab. And all of these expert foot doctors floating around the world, like Dr fish Guy, are certain that I'll need a walking cast or some other form of healing aparatus. Whatever. Screw those folks!! I plan on running 10 miles next Friday morning!! Bring it on!!
Firstly, this hellish situation hasn't exactly been as hellish as I thought it would be. I really haven't stopped doing anything because of the broken foot. Still drive. Still go to work. Still went shopping. Still went to hockey games and the theater. Still got on a plane and went on vacation to Miami. So my life hasn't been drastically different because of this. I certainly haven't become a hermit living only in my living room. My wife wishes I were a little more able bodied around the house, but I can't say that missing out on house chores is "hellish".
And while there is the odd inconvenience, usually involving where to put my crutches when not using them, at the end of these six weeks I'm not going to feel like I missed out on anything. So there's that.
B) Standing between me and the big bright light at the end of the tunnel is a business trip to Denver. I just think it really sucks that I have to wait until after this trip to get the cast sawwed off. C'mon, are 4 days really going to make a difference!!? Even though the Miami trip went well (Other than falling flat on my face in the bathroom at the Miami airport.), and everything to this point has gone by rather uneventfull, I just have a sneaky feeling something will go awry with this Denver trip. I don't know whether it will have something to do with the flights or something that will happen at the seminar I am attending or whatever, I just have this sinking feeling that some sort of horrible, crutch-related circus act is going to happen on this trip. I hope I am wrong. So even though I have just one week to go, and theorhetically this trip will probably make this week go by even faster, I'm still not going to do that crutched cartwheel until I return.
Also, I'm not sure I'm all that excited to be walking again. Don't get me wrong, I'd much rather walk than crutch! And if I could, I'd tear this cast off right now and walk the best I could. But I remember when Manhattan Mike had a similar foot ailment a few years back and I actually drove him to the doctor on our lunch break to have the cast removed. I remember him hurting when he took his first step out of the cast. I laughed because I thought he was kidding, but he wasn't.
And I think I know what he felt. I have accidentally slipped up a few times lately and put a limited amount of weight on my broken foot. Yeah, that doesn't feel too good. Not in a "Holy crap, this sucker is still broken" sort of way, but rather a "Man, I haven't used this thing in 5 weeks and it is going to be uncomfortable to put all of my weight on it" way. It isn't a pain though. It is more of an extreme numbness, does that make any sense? Like, you know that tingly sensation you get when your foot falls asleep? Well, it feels like that, times a million! And this is only with a very small amount of weight put on it. So while I am looking forward to walking again next Thursday, I'm not looking forward to that.
Plus, the doctor isn't being too forthcoming regarding my post cast rehab. And all of these expert foot doctors floating around the world, like Dr fish Guy, are certain that I'll need a walking cast or some other form of healing aparatus. Whatever. Screw those folks!! I plan on running 10 miles next Friday morning!! Bring it on!!
2.20.2008
Dr Fish Guy
So I went to buy some fish for my aquarium yesterday. Picked up a Plecostomus and a Clown Loach as well as a new brush to scrub the glass inside the aquarium. I had a seemingly friendly fellow helping me out. He was a real fish enthusiast. He tried to sell me a couple of other kinds of fish, but I was only looking for a couple. But he was really excited about the fish he netted for me. He went on and on about how much life these two particular fish seemed to have.
I was looking at this guy and I couldn't figure him out. He sported a wedding ring, so he landed a spouse. He was an older gentleman, probably in his mid to late fifties. And by golly, he loved fish! Was he a life long fish guy. Did he start out in the fish industry right out of high school and here he was forty years later!? Or was he retired successful business man who now passes his time talking fish with people at the pet store? He could be either. But he seemed like a nice enough guy.
Until he asked me about my broken foot.
I mentioned last week that I was sick of telling the stress fracture story. I really should just start making stories up. I survived a plane crash in the Amazon! I stepped in a bear trap! I pissed Tanya Harding off. But no, for the Fish Guy I told the truth and he proceeded to tell me how I'll be lucky to walk without a limp ever again, let alone run.
Hey Dr Fish Guy, keep your highly educated foot healing comments to yourself! Unless I'm giving you a co-pay and I see some sort of diploma on the wall, you're just the Fish Guy and I owe you $6 for the fish. If my gourami loses a fin, I'll seek your advice. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let Dr Fish Guy tell me my running days are over!
I was looking at this guy and I couldn't figure him out. He sported a wedding ring, so he landed a spouse. He was an older gentleman, probably in his mid to late fifties. And by golly, he loved fish! Was he a life long fish guy. Did he start out in the fish industry right out of high school and here he was forty years later!? Or was he retired successful business man who now passes his time talking fish with people at the pet store? He could be either. But he seemed like a nice enough guy.
Until he asked me about my broken foot.
I mentioned last week that I was sick of telling the stress fracture story. I really should just start making stories up. I survived a plane crash in the Amazon! I stepped in a bear trap! I pissed Tanya Harding off. But no, for the Fish Guy I told the truth and he proceeded to tell me how I'll be lucky to walk without a limp ever again, let alone run.
Hey Dr Fish Guy, keep your highly educated foot healing comments to yourself! Unless I'm giving you a co-pay and I see some sort of diploma on the wall, you're just the Fish Guy and I owe you $6 for the fish. If my gourami loses a fin, I'll seek your advice. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let Dr Fish Guy tell me my running days are over!
2.15.2008
Puppet Sex
A bunch of years ago I remember going to see 'There's Something About Mary" at the theater. And who should sit next to me but some 70-something grandmother and her two grand daughters who had to be around 10-years old, give or take. Knowing the sort of crude comedy we were in store for, I remembered thinking to myself, "Lady, do you have any idea of what you are about to see?" And yes, the hair gel scene was made much more funny to me when I got to see the old lady next to me squirm and then one of her grand daughters ask, "Grandma, why was there hair gel on his ear?"
I had a simmilar experience last night as I took the wife out for a little Valentine's Day culture at the Fox Theater. Broadway sensation 'Avenue Q' was in town. And sitting next to me were two older women. Not "Gee, is it nursing home night at the Fox?" old, but certainly "I don't think they are going to appreciate the cursing puppets" old.
Yes, this particular show has cursing puppets. The puppets joke about race. One of the puppets is gay. The puppets sing a song about porn. And at one point two of the puppets make a little love. Well, that is putting it kindly. They were going at it pretty good. Ah hell, I've dropped an f-bomb on the blog before, them puppets was fuckin'!! The choreography was outstanding! And yes, the enjoyment of watching puppet porn was heightened for me by looking to my left and seeing the shock on the faces of the two ladies next to us. Ah, good times!
But seriously folks, who goes to a show anymore without knowing anything about it. I understand that sometimes it is better to go into a show or a movie without any prior knowledge. I told my wife nothing about where we were going last night, and she had never heard of 'Avenue Q', even though she drives by the billboard advertising it twice a day. But I knew she would enjoy it. How did the two older women next to me come to the decision to go see this particular show?
And it wasn't just the two women next to me, the majority of the crowd was over 60! I know because I had to wait in line behind most of them for 30 minutes after the show to get down from the balcony via the elavator because they didn't want anything to do with the stairs. I think the show was pretty good, but I'll never really know because the crowd was never into it. I'm a believer that a great crowd can make a so-so show/concert/sporting event even better. And conversely, a bad crowd can make a great show suck. So while my wife and I were cackling with approval of all the raunchy puppet punchlines, too many people in the crowd were sitting there thinking, "Oh my, that puppet just said shit."
I'm sure the cast went backstage afterwards and said, "Except for the that couple up in the balcony, that was a piss poor crowd out there tonight!"
Oh well. It was a good show though. I'll leave the techincal review of 'Avenue Q' to my pal Manhattan Mike, whose blog Midwesterner's Guide to Broadway provides comprehensive analysis to Broadway's best, as I'm sure his grovelling will score him free tickets to the show in NYC any day now. And I'm sure he'll see it with a livlier crowd.
What does any of this have to do with my broken foot? Well, as I said, I did have to take the elavator, which was a treat. Aside from waiting with the Matlock gang afterwards, I enjoyed the elavator at the Fox because this is the same elavator the building had when it opened it's doors in 1929. It had an operator who manually opened the doors and the whole deal. It was kinda charming.
Hmmm, what else. Oh yeah, I nearly fell down the steps to my certain death again. I just cannot crutch down stairs. The first time I tried, right outside the doctor's office after I got the cast put on, I careened right off the top step. Normally I just put both crutches in my left hand, hold the railing with my right hand and hop down steps one by one. But last night I got ballsy and decided to give crutching down the stairs another shot. Thankfully my wife was there to grab the scruff of my collar. Thankfully the theater had pretty much cleared out and very few people saw the near tragedy. And thankfully we were only in the second row up from the aisle, so had I continued my downward motion, I probably wouldn't have killed myself. But I'm sure some other broken appendage would have ensued.
Another thing I am sick of is complete strangers asking me "Oh no, what happened to your leg?" The two golden girls I mentioned above, they got to asking me about it. I understand people are trying to be nice. I understand there is no ill will intended. But I really am sick of it. It reminds me of when my wife and I were on our honeymoon in Hawaii. The whole flight out there, no one said two words to us, yet as soon as we got off the plane, people started oogling at us because it was obvious we were on our honeymoon. Sure, there were some perks. At a couple of restaurants we were seated at the best tables. We scored a few free desserts and what not. But after a while we were both like "Yeah, yeah. We're on our honeymoon. Quit staring at us!!"
The good news is that I now have less than two weeks to go!
I had a simmilar experience last night as I took the wife out for a little Valentine's Day culture at the Fox Theater. Broadway sensation 'Avenue Q' was in town. And sitting next to me were two older women. Not "Gee, is it nursing home night at the Fox?" old, but certainly "I don't think they are going to appreciate the cursing puppets" old.
Yes, this particular show has cursing puppets. The puppets joke about race. One of the puppets is gay. The puppets sing a song about porn. And at one point two of the puppets make a little love. Well, that is putting it kindly. They were going at it pretty good. Ah hell, I've dropped an f-bomb on the blog before, them puppets was fuckin'!! The choreography was outstanding! And yes, the enjoyment of watching puppet porn was heightened for me by looking to my left and seeing the shock on the faces of the two ladies next to us. Ah, good times!
But seriously folks, who goes to a show anymore without knowing anything about it. I understand that sometimes it is better to go into a show or a movie without any prior knowledge. I told my wife nothing about where we were going last night, and she had never heard of 'Avenue Q', even though she drives by the billboard advertising it twice a day. But I knew she would enjoy it. How did the two older women next to me come to the decision to go see this particular show?
And it wasn't just the two women next to me, the majority of the crowd was over 60! I know because I had to wait in line behind most of them for 30 minutes after the show to get down from the balcony via the elavator because they didn't want anything to do with the stairs. I think the show was pretty good, but I'll never really know because the crowd was never into it. I'm a believer that a great crowd can make a so-so show/concert/sporting event even better. And conversely, a bad crowd can make a great show suck. So while my wife and I were cackling with approval of all the raunchy puppet punchlines, too many people in the crowd were sitting there thinking, "Oh my, that puppet just said shit."
I'm sure the cast went backstage afterwards and said, "Except for the that couple up in the balcony, that was a piss poor crowd out there tonight!"
Oh well. It was a good show though. I'll leave the techincal review of 'Avenue Q' to my pal Manhattan Mike, whose blog Midwesterner's Guide to Broadway provides comprehensive analysis to Broadway's best, as I'm sure his grovelling will score him free tickets to the show in NYC any day now. And I'm sure he'll see it with a livlier crowd.
What does any of this have to do with my broken foot? Well, as I said, I did have to take the elavator, which was a treat. Aside from waiting with the Matlock gang afterwards, I enjoyed the elavator at the Fox because this is the same elavator the building had when it opened it's doors in 1929. It had an operator who manually opened the doors and the whole deal. It was kinda charming.
Hmmm, what else. Oh yeah, I nearly fell down the steps to my certain death again. I just cannot crutch down stairs. The first time I tried, right outside the doctor's office after I got the cast put on, I careened right off the top step. Normally I just put both crutches in my left hand, hold the railing with my right hand and hop down steps one by one. But last night I got ballsy and decided to give crutching down the stairs another shot. Thankfully my wife was there to grab the scruff of my collar. Thankfully the theater had pretty much cleared out and very few people saw the near tragedy. And thankfully we were only in the second row up from the aisle, so had I continued my downward motion, I probably wouldn't have killed myself. But I'm sure some other broken appendage would have ensued.
Another thing I am sick of is complete strangers asking me "Oh no, what happened to your leg?" The two golden girls I mentioned above, they got to asking me about it. I understand people are trying to be nice. I understand there is no ill will intended. But I really am sick of it. It reminds me of when my wife and I were on our honeymoon in Hawaii. The whole flight out there, no one said two words to us, yet as soon as we got off the plane, people started oogling at us because it was obvious we were on our honeymoon. Sure, there were some perks. At a couple of restaurants we were seated at the best tables. We scored a few free desserts and what not. But after a while we were both like "Yeah, yeah. We're on our honeymoon. Quit staring at us!!"
The good news is that I now have less than two weeks to go!
2.13.2008
The Sick
When I was trying to find a bright spot to this whole broken foot situation, I reasoned that I couldn't have picked a better time of year to have this happen. It wasn't summer with the oppressive heat and yard chores to keep up with. It wasn't around the holidays. Other than the marathon, this whole situation wasn't interfering with anything.
But now that I think about it, I should have seen the fact that there is just no way that I could go a six week stretch in January and February without getting "the sick". My pal Manhattan Mike and I affectionately refer to the cold/flu/sinus infection that everyone gets this time of year as "the sick". Since everyone has a different opinion as to what the flu, the cold, and a sinus infection actually are, and usually one man's definition of the flu is another man's definition of a cold and vice versa, it's just easier to call it the sick.
Well, I have the sick. There is an insane amount of pressure in my head, particularly behind my eyes and around my ears. I can't tell you how badly I wanted to jam a steak knife into my ear to relieve the pressure. There is a burnt sienna hued substance coming out of my nose and my throat. And I have that hurt all over hurt, which as you can imagine makes crutching a whole lot of fun. This sucks.
Thankfully my doctor was able to send a prescription into Walgreens for me without me having to visit him, though the nurse on the phone as quite confused when she asked me what I had nd I simply said I had the sick. In addition to some pills, there is this killer syrup I have to take right before bed. This stuff is supposed to knock me out and I really can't wait until I wrap this blog up and take a shot of that stuff!
So with that being said, cheers.
But now that I think about it, I should have seen the fact that there is just no way that I could go a six week stretch in January and February without getting "the sick". My pal Manhattan Mike and I affectionately refer to the cold/flu/sinus infection that everyone gets this time of year as "the sick". Since everyone has a different opinion as to what the flu, the cold, and a sinus infection actually are, and usually one man's definition of the flu is another man's definition of a cold and vice versa, it's just easier to call it the sick.
Well, I have the sick. There is an insane amount of pressure in my head, particularly behind my eyes and around my ears. I can't tell you how badly I wanted to jam a steak knife into my ear to relieve the pressure. There is a burnt sienna hued substance coming out of my nose and my throat. And I have that hurt all over hurt, which as you can imagine makes crutching a whole lot of fun. This sucks.
Thankfully my doctor was able to send a prescription into Walgreens for me without me having to visit him, though the nurse on the phone as quite confused when she asked me what I had nd I simply said I had the sick. In addition to some pills, there is this killer syrup I have to take right before bed. This stuff is supposed to knock me out and I really can't wait until I wrap this blog up and take a shot of that stuff!
So with that being said, cheers.
2.11.2008
A Good Clensing
How was your Monday? Good? Did you have a camera jammed up your ass today? I did. Yep, it was time for Rob with the Broken Foot to check in for his first colonoscopy! For once my broken foot wasn't the most pressing medical issue placed before me.
You may be asking, but Rob, you're such a young, sprightly fellow, aren't colonoscopies reserved for folks in their fifties and beyond? Great question! Yes, typically more mature people than myself get to experience the greatness that is the colonoscopy. But I went in to see my doctor a few weeks ago, played twenty questions with him, and based on my answers this was my prize. The big issue is that I have a history of colon cancer in my family. And since I have a young child now and presumeably more on the way, I was more than ready to bend over to see what's going on down there.
Now I've had the upper endoscopies before, the one where they stick the camera down your throat to check out your esophagus and stomach, and I knew that for this proceedure I'd be sedated. So I knew I wouldn't be awake while the snake-like camera made its way north, which is why I had no problems with having this done. What I wasn't prepared for was the day before.
Before you have something like this done, you need to clense the entire digestive system. I've heard from others who have gone through this that this part isn't particularly fun. And I'm not about to shed any positive light on the process.
First order of business is not to eat anything upon waking up. I could eat some Jello, or any other clear (non-alcoholic) fluids. That was all I could consume yesterday. Then I needed to mix the concoction that would do the clensing. I was prescribed this giant four liter jug with powder inside. Then I was to pour lemon-lime Gatorade into the jug and shake it up. The resulting beverage resembled anti-freeze. Everyone I talked to prior to this described the fluid as Drano, and for obvious reasons. But from the moment I mixed it together all I could think of was Prestone.
Now, I don't know what anti-freeze tastes like, but I'm fairly certain this crap was close to it. Either that or it tasted like what I would imagine the Mississippi River would taste like in New Orleans, and I say this because there was a sea water flavor involved. So it was equal parts sea water and garbage juice. My instructions were to drink eight ounces of this magic potion every ten minutes. It was so bad it nearly took me ten minutes to drink the first eight ounces!
And basically what this fluid does to you is it gives you the flu. It even says that vomitting may occur. Everything in your system comes flushing out of you. At one point I saw a piece of gum I swallowed six years ago! Being on crutches and thus not being able to run to the bathroom in a traditional sense, I ended up just taking up residence in the bathroom for about two hours, which proved to be smart. And afterwards you feel lousy, just like if you had the flu.
The worst part of all though, is the fact that you can't eat anything! Even when you have the flu you can have some crackers or some soup. Sure I could have had more Jello, but that wasn't what I wanted. And my mind just wandered from one type of food I wanted to the next. I couldn't go to sleep last night because I was thinking about food!
Whew, time to go to bed. This is just like Christmas eve, the quicker I get to sleep the quicker I can get this over with and have something to eat! Oh man, what will I eat first!? I'm in the mood for some waffles! Maybe I can stop off and get some waffles on the way home. Mmmmm! (Sound of stomach growling.) Ugh! I have to take my mind off of food! Let's think about something else. Anything else... Ah, yes. Thursday night, Valentine's Day! We're going out! Gonna be a good time. Man, I can't wait until we try that new restaurant that night. I've heard such good things! Should I get an appetizer or a salad? Or both!!? (Growl.) Oh man!! There I go again, thinking about food!! I gotta think about something else. Let's see. Something non-food related. Ah yes, I'll relive one of the greatest nights of my life! The night the Cards won the World Series and I was there for it!! Ah, good times!! This will drift me off to sleep! Okay, okay. Where to start? Man, it was cold that night. I remember walking into the stadium with a lot of confidence. I knew the Cards would win that night!! Then I walked right over and bought a bratwurst and a beer. Oh man, that brat and beer was good. Whew, I could go for a brat and a beer right now!! (Grrrrrrrrrrr.) Ahhhh!
Somehow I made it through the night and to the proceedure this morning. Compared to the hell that yesterday was, what happened this morning was a breeze. Did I mention they sedate you for this? Let me just say this, if the those sedation drugs were available on the street, I would have a drug problem. They are fantastic! They made the whole process worth it! Great, great stuff!
The weird part is that from the moment they put you under to the moment you come to, it feels like no time has past, but you feel so well rested! If sleep were judged on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most thorough sleep one can get, my average every night sleep would be a 6 and this sedated sleep would be about a 57!
Coming out of the sleep is the exact opposite of drinking yourself to the point of passing out. When you first open your eyes you are completely incoherent and you don't make any sense whatsoever. Of course, this is the moment the doctor chooses to come tell you what he found. Thankfully my proceedure did not uncover anything abnormal. I can't imagine what the conversation would have been like if he had bad news.
Doctor: Rob, we found something that we are pretty suspicious of. I'm affraid it might be a tumor.
Me: Connect four!!
Anyhow, that was my day. As I said before, I am more than willing to bend over in the name of catching cancer before it gets past the point of no return. But after entering the Prestone zone yesterday, I'm not so sure. Trust me folks, having a tiny camera inserted up Uranus is not the real issue with the colonoscopy. The clensing is the issue! Ugh!!
And what kills me are all of these infomercials selling clensing solutions as a weight loss tool. They try to tell you that you carry around an extra five to ten pounds of matter in your intestines and that clensing it out is good for you. So I decided to weigh myself before and after the clensing. I lost a pound and a half! That's it!! So for all of you folks looking for a new age way to shed some pounds, clensing is bullshit!
And now that my health is good and my belly is full, I'm back to moping around about my cast and crutches.
You may be asking, but Rob, you're such a young, sprightly fellow, aren't colonoscopies reserved for folks in their fifties and beyond? Great question! Yes, typically more mature people than myself get to experience the greatness that is the colonoscopy. But I went in to see my doctor a few weeks ago, played twenty questions with him, and based on my answers this was my prize. The big issue is that I have a history of colon cancer in my family. And since I have a young child now and presumeably more on the way, I was more than ready to bend over to see what's going on down there.
Now I've had the upper endoscopies before, the one where they stick the camera down your throat to check out your esophagus and stomach, and I knew that for this proceedure I'd be sedated. So I knew I wouldn't be awake while the snake-like camera made its way north, which is why I had no problems with having this done. What I wasn't prepared for was the day before.
Before you have something like this done, you need to clense the entire digestive system. I've heard from others who have gone through this that this part isn't particularly fun. And I'm not about to shed any positive light on the process.
First order of business is not to eat anything upon waking up. I could eat some Jello, or any other clear (non-alcoholic) fluids. That was all I could consume yesterday. Then I needed to mix the concoction that would do the clensing. I was prescribed this giant four liter jug with powder inside. Then I was to pour lemon-lime Gatorade into the jug and shake it up. The resulting beverage resembled anti-freeze. Everyone I talked to prior to this described the fluid as Drano, and for obvious reasons. But from the moment I mixed it together all I could think of was Prestone.
Now, I don't know what anti-freeze tastes like, but I'm fairly certain this crap was close to it. Either that or it tasted like what I would imagine the Mississippi River would taste like in New Orleans, and I say this because there was a sea water flavor involved. So it was equal parts sea water and garbage juice. My instructions were to drink eight ounces of this magic potion every ten minutes. It was so bad it nearly took me ten minutes to drink the first eight ounces!
And basically what this fluid does to you is it gives you the flu. It even says that vomitting may occur. Everything in your system comes flushing out of you. At one point I saw a piece of gum I swallowed six years ago! Being on crutches and thus not being able to run to the bathroom in a traditional sense, I ended up just taking up residence in the bathroom for about two hours, which proved to be smart. And afterwards you feel lousy, just like if you had the flu.
The worst part of all though, is the fact that you can't eat anything! Even when you have the flu you can have some crackers or some soup. Sure I could have had more Jello, but that wasn't what I wanted. And my mind just wandered from one type of food I wanted to the next. I couldn't go to sleep last night because I was thinking about food!
Whew, time to go to bed. This is just like Christmas eve, the quicker I get to sleep the quicker I can get this over with and have something to eat! Oh man, what will I eat first!? I'm in the mood for some waffles! Maybe I can stop off and get some waffles on the way home. Mmmmm! (Sound of stomach growling.) Ugh! I have to take my mind off of food! Let's think about something else. Anything else... Ah, yes. Thursday night, Valentine's Day! We're going out! Gonna be a good time. Man, I can't wait until we try that new restaurant that night. I've heard such good things! Should I get an appetizer or a salad? Or both!!? (Growl.) Oh man!! There I go again, thinking about food!! I gotta think about something else. Let's see. Something non-food related. Ah yes, I'll relive one of the greatest nights of my life! The night the Cards won the World Series and I was there for it!! Ah, good times!! This will drift me off to sleep! Okay, okay. Where to start? Man, it was cold that night. I remember walking into the stadium with a lot of confidence. I knew the Cards would win that night!! Then I walked right over and bought a bratwurst and a beer. Oh man, that brat and beer was good. Whew, I could go for a brat and a beer right now!! (Grrrrrrrrrrr.) Ahhhh!
Somehow I made it through the night and to the proceedure this morning. Compared to the hell that yesterday was, what happened this morning was a breeze. Did I mention they sedate you for this? Let me just say this, if the those sedation drugs were available on the street, I would have a drug problem. They are fantastic! They made the whole process worth it! Great, great stuff!
The weird part is that from the moment they put you under to the moment you come to, it feels like no time has past, but you feel so well rested! If sleep were judged on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most thorough sleep one can get, my average every night sleep would be a 6 and this sedated sleep would be about a 57!
Coming out of the sleep is the exact opposite of drinking yourself to the point of passing out. When you first open your eyes you are completely incoherent and you don't make any sense whatsoever. Of course, this is the moment the doctor chooses to come tell you what he found. Thankfully my proceedure did not uncover anything abnormal. I can't imagine what the conversation would have been like if he had bad news.
Doctor: Rob, we found something that we are pretty suspicious of. I'm affraid it might be a tumor.
Me: Connect four!!
Anyhow, that was my day. As I said before, I am more than willing to bend over in the name of catching cancer before it gets past the point of no return. But after entering the Prestone zone yesterday, I'm not so sure. Trust me folks, having a tiny camera inserted up Uranus is not the real issue with the colonoscopy. The clensing is the issue! Ugh!!
And what kills me are all of these infomercials selling clensing solutions as a weight loss tool. They try to tell you that you carry around an extra five to ten pounds of matter in your intestines and that clensing it out is good for you. So I decided to weigh myself before and after the clensing. I lost a pound and a half! That's it!! So for all of you folks looking for a new age way to shed some pounds, clensing is bullshit!
And now that my health is good and my belly is full, I'm back to moping around about my cast and crutches.
2.07.2008
I Gotta Hand It To...
The guy who invented the formular to come up with your porn name. You know, the first name is your childhood pet and the last name is the street you grew up on. Not something quick and easy like "Buck Naked" which George Costanza used. Though I suppose it is possible he grew up on Naked Avenue with his schnauser Buck. But whoever came up with this formula is a genius! This is the type of stuff that will float through your mind when you're anchored down by a cast.
Let's take me. My porn name is Brandy Bedford. That's pretty strong! Of course it is a porn starlett's name, but really, wouldn't we all rather be porn starletts than one of the annonymous dudes who play the pizza delivery boys and the construction workers in this genre of cinemae? They aren't famous. There was no 'Dougie Does Decatur' series of films. So if I'm stuck being a famous pin cushion, so be it! Brandy Bedford it is!!
But still, we gotta have some dudes, right? So lets take a gander at my son's porn name, Woody Pepperwood. That name exudes male superiority in the porn industry. A guy like Woody Pepperwood starts out with the pool cleaner-type roles in his late teens and early twenties. He's not the star. But he's rapidly becoming the rising male star in the porn industry (No pun intended!!). By his mid twenties he is the star of his own series of films. Pepperwood becomes a verb! And by the time he is thirty, he is challenging Ron Jeremy as the most successful man in the porn kingdom! This is Woody Pepperwood of course, not my son.
It really is amazing how this formula works. Thinking back to all my friends and family and the pets they grew up with, I'm coming up with a whole gaggle of porn star names! Max Summerfield. Holly Wise. Fluffy Daugherty. Harry Sarah. Butch Central. Boots Harrison. Zipper Makayla. This is awesome!!
But the person who takes the cake has to be my buddy Boston Gabe. He grew up on Mistletoe St and his family had a Collie named Mandy. That's right folks, Mandy Mistletoe!!! Are you kidding me!!?? Again, Gabe would have to settle for the female porn star name, but with a name like Mandy Mistletoe who wouldn't?
Let's take me. My porn name is Brandy Bedford. That's pretty strong! Of course it is a porn starlett's name, but really, wouldn't we all rather be porn starletts than one of the annonymous dudes who play the pizza delivery boys and the construction workers in this genre of cinemae? They aren't famous. There was no 'Dougie Does Decatur' series of films. So if I'm stuck being a famous pin cushion, so be it! Brandy Bedford it is!!
But still, we gotta have some dudes, right? So lets take a gander at my son's porn name, Woody Pepperwood. That name exudes male superiority in the porn industry. A guy like Woody Pepperwood starts out with the pool cleaner-type roles in his late teens and early twenties. He's not the star. But he's rapidly becoming the rising male star in the porn industry (No pun intended!!). By his mid twenties he is the star of his own series of films. Pepperwood becomes a verb! And by the time he is thirty, he is challenging Ron Jeremy as the most successful man in the porn kingdom! This is Woody Pepperwood of course, not my son.
It really is amazing how this formula works. Thinking back to all my friends and family and the pets they grew up with, I'm coming up with a whole gaggle of porn star names! Max Summerfield. Holly Wise. Fluffy Daugherty. Harry Sarah. Butch Central. Boots Harrison. Zipper Makayla. This is awesome!!
But the person who takes the cake has to be my buddy Boston Gabe. He grew up on Mistletoe St and his family had a Collie named Mandy. That's right folks, Mandy Mistletoe!!! Are you kidding me!!?? Again, Gabe would have to settle for the female porn star name, but with a name like Mandy Mistletoe who wouldn't?
2.05.2008
Crutching to the Polls
I woke up this morning with the full expectation that I would have to write an "In the Crosshairs" blog about the voting process in these United States. It's Super Tuesday, folks! Get out and vote!! I did, and I must admit, it was a very pleasant experience that took all of about 45 seconds.
Voting has always been a pain in the arse, which is probably why so many people don't do it. This puzzles me because voting is one of the principals this country was founded on. It is one of the most important things we do as an American. All the opinionated thought on television, radio, internet and print media that we are bombarded with. All the signs in people's yards and bumper stickers on cars that we cannot avoid. All the smarmy talk show hosts with their punchlines. And most of all, all of the problems we face as a city, county, state, and country. How can you ignore all of that and not vote?
I feel this way as I embark to the polls. I feel like this is more important for me as an American than eating apple pie or watching baseball. I hum the Star Spangled Banner as I park the car. As I march, not walk but march, to the polling place an eagle lands on my shoulder to accompany me. And as soon as I open the door, the record player screeches to a halt and the eagle takes a crap on my jacket before taking off.
There is always mass chaos at the polling place! And I blame the people they put in charge of the polling places. Old people!
Now, I love old people. I do. Love 'em to death. But they have no earthly business running a major election for the most powerful country in the world! In the past, I have dealt with so much old person incompetence at the polling places it is maddening.
I walked up one time to the guy that has the giant list of names. This man was wearing some sort of contraption that was a cross between hobby magnifying goggles and a welder's mask. He needed this to read. Why was this man working the polling place? He can't even see!
One time they asked for my voter id card. I handed it over and they said they couldn't accept it until I signed it. So I grabbed a pen and began to sign it. Three elderly ladies working there all gasped in horror and told me I could not sign it there at the table and that I had to go somewhere out of sight to sign it. They sent me to the bathroom to do this and even had someone escort me there. The bathroom!!
Last time I voted, after going through the assembly line of old people to get a number, my name checked off, and then my name checked off some other list, an elderly lady asked me if I wanted to vote electronically or the old fashion style. I looked over at the polls. There were five old fashion booths and five electronic booths. No one was using the five old fashion booths while there was a hefty line for the electronic booths. Being somewhat in a hurry, I requested the old fashion ballot. All of a sudden this old lady turned into a sarcastic teenager and she says, "Well, why do you want to do that?" I explained my need to get to work on time. Then she tells me that she'd have to go over to the other side of the room to get the old fashion ballots and that it would be easier (for her) if I just went over to the electronic booth. I didn't budge and then she made a whole huge deal out of me being old fashioned.
Now, obviously these issues are not soley because these folks are old, I'm just choosing to emphasize this. Though it would seem like far more of a professional process if they got some younger blood in the polling place. So I have a solution.
If they make us all go to jury duty because it is our duty as an American to do so, I would not at all object to being called in to work a polling place. In fact, I'd probably take it a bit more seriously than I do my own job and you wouldn't have to deal with the endless sitting around like you do at jury duty. Clearly this would make employers upset because so many people would be taken away from work, but who cares. Besides, it would provide an incentive to employers to give the employees that do show up to work the flexibility to go out and vote. I know most employers are good about this, but some aren't. Or, better yet, to give the folks working the polls the freedom and to encourage more voter turn out, let's have the election on a Saturday or make election day a holiday. Just a thought.
This is my general feeling on the voting experience. However, this morning was easy as could be. I figured my crutches would surly cause me some sort of polling headache, but as I said, I was in and out in less than a minute. Though this frightens me. If there were no headaches for me on the front end, how do I know there are no headaches on the back end? Like what if some old codger presses the wrong button when downloading my electronic vote from this morning and my vote is lost? I wouldn't put it past these folks.
We need to get the bingo crowd out of the polls! If it is this bad here in Missouri, no wonder Florida elections are all screwed up. All of the old people live there!
Voting has always been a pain in the arse, which is probably why so many people don't do it. This puzzles me because voting is one of the principals this country was founded on. It is one of the most important things we do as an American. All the opinionated thought on television, radio, internet and print media that we are bombarded with. All the signs in people's yards and bumper stickers on cars that we cannot avoid. All the smarmy talk show hosts with their punchlines. And most of all, all of the problems we face as a city, county, state, and country. How can you ignore all of that and not vote?
I feel this way as I embark to the polls. I feel like this is more important for me as an American than eating apple pie or watching baseball. I hum the Star Spangled Banner as I park the car. As I march, not walk but march, to the polling place an eagle lands on my shoulder to accompany me. And as soon as I open the door, the record player screeches to a halt and the eagle takes a crap on my jacket before taking off.
There is always mass chaos at the polling place! And I blame the people they put in charge of the polling places. Old people!
Now, I love old people. I do. Love 'em to death. But they have no earthly business running a major election for the most powerful country in the world! In the past, I have dealt with so much old person incompetence at the polling places it is maddening.
I walked up one time to the guy that has the giant list of names. This man was wearing some sort of contraption that was a cross between hobby magnifying goggles and a welder's mask. He needed this to read. Why was this man working the polling place? He can't even see!
One time they asked for my voter id card. I handed it over and they said they couldn't accept it until I signed it. So I grabbed a pen and began to sign it. Three elderly ladies working there all gasped in horror and told me I could not sign it there at the table and that I had to go somewhere out of sight to sign it. They sent me to the bathroom to do this and even had someone escort me there. The bathroom!!
Last time I voted, after going through the assembly line of old people to get a number, my name checked off, and then my name checked off some other list, an elderly lady asked me if I wanted to vote electronically or the old fashion style. I looked over at the polls. There were five old fashion booths and five electronic booths. No one was using the five old fashion booths while there was a hefty line for the electronic booths. Being somewhat in a hurry, I requested the old fashion ballot. All of a sudden this old lady turned into a sarcastic teenager and she says, "Well, why do you want to do that?" I explained my need to get to work on time. Then she tells me that she'd have to go over to the other side of the room to get the old fashion ballots and that it would be easier (for her) if I just went over to the electronic booth. I didn't budge and then she made a whole huge deal out of me being old fashioned.
Now, obviously these issues are not soley because these folks are old, I'm just choosing to emphasize this. Though it would seem like far more of a professional process if they got some younger blood in the polling place. So I have a solution.
If they make us all go to jury duty because it is our duty as an American to do so, I would not at all object to being called in to work a polling place. In fact, I'd probably take it a bit more seriously than I do my own job and you wouldn't have to deal with the endless sitting around like you do at jury duty. Clearly this would make employers upset because so many people would be taken away from work, but who cares. Besides, it would provide an incentive to employers to give the employees that do show up to work the flexibility to go out and vote. I know most employers are good about this, but some aren't. Or, better yet, to give the folks working the polls the freedom and to encourage more voter turn out, let's have the election on a Saturday or make election day a holiday. Just a thought.
This is my general feeling on the voting experience. However, this morning was easy as could be. I figured my crutches would surly cause me some sort of polling headache, but as I said, I was in and out in less than a minute. Though this frightens me. If there were no headaches for me on the front end, how do I know there are no headaches on the back end? Like what if some old codger presses the wrong button when downloading my electronic vote from this morning and my vote is lost? I wouldn't put it past these folks.
We need to get the bingo crowd out of the polls! If it is this bad here in Missouri, no wonder Florida elections are all screwed up. All of the old people live there!
2.04.2008
Super Jammies
Have you ever gotten the urge to pick up a piece of clothing from one of your local sports teams? The team is hot and you're jumping on the bandwagon or maybe the boss throws you some tickets and you need something to wear to the game, but you don't want to make too much of a financial commitment and buy that $50 sweatshirt from the team store or from Macy's. So you go to WalMart or to Target. They usually have a nice selection of your team's gear. Of course the quality of the clothing is awful and after one trip through the wash one sleeve will be twice as long as the other and you won't be able to fit your head through the collar.
Have you ever noticed that mixed in with your team's gear, there is always one or two items of clothing for another team that has nothing to do with your geographic location? I notice this all the time now because my son will wear anything that has the Cardinals' or Blues' logo on it. So whenever I'm at one of these stores, I'll always check to see if anything in my son's size is on sale. And whenever I do this I always see something completely out of left field, like a Minnesota Vikings pair of gym shorts. Or a Golden State Warriors shirt. These items had to have just been put in the wrong box or something and the stock boys at WalMart just said, "Ah hell, put it out there and see if someone buys it." Then eventually it is put on sale and then on clearance until someone does.
This must explain why when I was about seven years old, I opened up one of my presents on Christmas morning and found a pair of New York Giants pajamas. It had the Tazmanian Devil in a Giants' uniform carrying a football and busting away from a couple of tacklers on the shirt and on the pants it had in big letters going down the right leg 'New York Giants'. And even at the age of seven I thought to myself, "Why the hell did my mother get these for me?" At the time, we still had the St Louis Football Cardinals. My family had season tickets. The Giants were a division rival! Was I going to open up a Chicago Cubs sweater next!?
Well, I outlined the answer above. The jammies ended up in the wrong box and were sent to St Louis. They sat on the rack at Target or WalMart (Or back then it could have been Venture!) for a few months, then it was put on sale, then clearance. My mom probably picked them up for $1.99. Viola!
I wore those jammies from time to time, but every time I did, as I would put them on I wondered why I had them. I didn't even like the Giants. In fact, I hated them. They always beat my Cardinals. They had that smug coach, Bill Parcels. And because we in St Louis developed a strong dislike for the New York Mets in the 80s, I took it a step further and hated all of the New York sports teams. And to this day I have a sour taste in my mouth about the New York Giants. That leads us to last night.
I think I am the only one this side of Hartford that wanted to see the New England Patriots finish off their undefeated season. I've had friends tell me I'm crazy. I've had friends tell me that I should hate the Patriots because they beat the Rams in the Superbowl a few years back. I've had friends tell me that the Patriots are cheaters and no one should support them (Which is ridiculous. EVERY TEAM CHEATS!!!! It's called gaining an edge. All 32 NFL teams do some sort of surveilance of the opposition, the Patriots were just the ones who got caught because the New York Jets' coach 'broke the code' and blew the whistle on the Pat's practices.).
Whatever. I liked the Patriots because they were fun to watch. The NFL has become so boring. It's become a defense first league. Look at the scoreboard this year. There were a ton of 10-6 and 7-3 final scores! Geez, wake me up when it is over! And here are the Patriots hanging 45 points a week, scoring at will, and rewriting the record book. What's not to like!? Yeah, yeah, I know they hail from the Boston area and the Boston sports fan can be a little tough to handle. But seriously, if in every game, one team wore a plain white uniform and the other team wore a plain grey uniform, with no names or numbers or logos so you basically had no idea who was who, which team would you root for? The entertaining one, right? Who goes to see the Globetrotters play wanting to see the Washington Generals win?
So yes, I wanted to see the perfect season completed last night, and if it meant the New York Giants lost, all the better. Didn't happen though, and I'll admit we have ourselves a much better sports story this morning than we would have if the Hatriots had ended up winning (Though, how huge would the story be if Brett Favre and the Green Bay Packers had been the ones to win the Superbowl last night!?). The Patriots ended up playing like the St Louis Rams, some guy I've never heard of caught a pass with his helmet and Eli Van Der Beek went from being pro sports most well known kid brother to a legend. By the way, do you think little Eli wears those same jammies I had as a kid to bed every night? Do you think he wore them under his uniform last night?
When it is all said and done though, the best thing about the game last night is that the next time we see football, it'll be the summer and I'll be long out of this cast!!
And since today's post veered a bit off of the 'whacky adventures of Rob with the broken foot' topic, I'll leave you with this tidbit. I took a shower this morning. A successful shower. As I was getting out, I was sitting with my wet rear end on the edge of the tub drying my legs. As I was doing so, my butt started sliding back into the tub. You know how when you start to slide, initially it is slow, then it is really fast? That's what happened. Thankfully I caught myself before the back of my head went crashing into the tile wall. If that had happened and I would have been knocked out, one of two things would have happened. A) I would have come to after a few hours in a haze and noticed myself to be naked, with my upper body in the tub and my legs straight up in the air. That would have probably scared me back into a coma! Or 2) My wife would have come home to find me passed out in the position I just described. So needless to say, disaster averted!
And there you have your Crutch Boy fix of the day.
Have you ever noticed that mixed in with your team's gear, there is always one or two items of clothing for another team that has nothing to do with your geographic location? I notice this all the time now because my son will wear anything that has the Cardinals' or Blues' logo on it. So whenever I'm at one of these stores, I'll always check to see if anything in my son's size is on sale. And whenever I do this I always see something completely out of left field, like a Minnesota Vikings pair of gym shorts. Or a Golden State Warriors shirt. These items had to have just been put in the wrong box or something and the stock boys at WalMart just said, "Ah hell, put it out there and see if someone buys it." Then eventually it is put on sale and then on clearance until someone does.
This must explain why when I was about seven years old, I opened up one of my presents on Christmas morning and found a pair of New York Giants pajamas. It had the Tazmanian Devil in a Giants' uniform carrying a football and busting away from a couple of tacklers on the shirt and on the pants it had in big letters going down the right leg 'New York Giants'. And even at the age of seven I thought to myself, "Why the hell did my mother get these for me?" At the time, we still had the St Louis Football Cardinals. My family had season tickets. The Giants were a division rival! Was I going to open up a Chicago Cubs sweater next!?
Well, I outlined the answer above. The jammies ended up in the wrong box and were sent to St Louis. They sat on the rack at Target or WalMart (Or back then it could have been Venture!) for a few months, then it was put on sale, then clearance. My mom probably picked them up for $1.99. Viola!
I wore those jammies from time to time, but every time I did, as I would put them on I wondered why I had them. I didn't even like the Giants. In fact, I hated them. They always beat my Cardinals. They had that smug coach, Bill Parcels. And because we in St Louis developed a strong dislike for the New York Mets in the 80s, I took it a step further and hated all of the New York sports teams. And to this day I have a sour taste in my mouth about the New York Giants. That leads us to last night.
I think I am the only one this side of Hartford that wanted to see the New England Patriots finish off their undefeated season. I've had friends tell me I'm crazy. I've had friends tell me that I should hate the Patriots because they beat the Rams in the Superbowl a few years back. I've had friends tell me that the Patriots are cheaters and no one should support them (Which is ridiculous. EVERY TEAM CHEATS!!!! It's called gaining an edge. All 32 NFL teams do some sort of surveilance of the opposition, the Patriots were just the ones who got caught because the New York Jets' coach 'broke the code' and blew the whistle on the Pat's practices.).
Whatever. I liked the Patriots because they were fun to watch. The NFL has become so boring. It's become a defense first league. Look at the scoreboard this year. There were a ton of 10-6 and 7-3 final scores! Geez, wake me up when it is over! And here are the Patriots hanging 45 points a week, scoring at will, and rewriting the record book. What's not to like!? Yeah, yeah, I know they hail from the Boston area and the Boston sports fan can be a little tough to handle. But seriously, if in every game, one team wore a plain white uniform and the other team wore a plain grey uniform, with no names or numbers or logos so you basically had no idea who was who, which team would you root for? The entertaining one, right? Who goes to see the Globetrotters play wanting to see the Washington Generals win?
So yes, I wanted to see the perfect season completed last night, and if it meant the New York Giants lost, all the better. Didn't happen though, and I'll admit we have ourselves a much better sports story this morning than we would have if the Hatriots had ended up winning (Though, how huge would the story be if Brett Favre and the Green Bay Packers had been the ones to win the Superbowl last night!?). The Patriots ended up playing like the St Louis Rams, some guy I've never heard of caught a pass with his helmet and Eli Van Der Beek went from being pro sports most well known kid brother to a legend. By the way, do you think little Eli wears those same jammies I had as a kid to bed every night? Do you think he wore them under his uniform last night?
When it is all said and done though, the best thing about the game last night is that the next time we see football, it'll be the summer and I'll be long out of this cast!!
And since today's post veered a bit off of the 'whacky adventures of Rob with the broken foot' topic, I'll leave you with this tidbit. I took a shower this morning. A successful shower. As I was getting out, I was sitting with my wet rear end on the edge of the tub drying my legs. As I was doing so, my butt started sliding back into the tub. You know how when you start to slide, initially it is slow, then it is really fast? That's what happened. Thankfully I caught myself before the back of my head went crashing into the tile wall. If that had happened and I would have been knocked out, one of two things would have happened. A) I would have come to after a few hours in a haze and noticed myself to be naked, with my upper body in the tub and my legs straight up in the air. That would have probably scared me back into a coma! Or 2) My wife would have come home to find me passed out in the position I just described. So needless to say, disaster averted!
And there you have your Crutch Boy fix of the day.
2.03.2008
Superbowl
This was supposed to be the year we threw a big Superbowl bash at our house. I've always enjoyed having folks over to the house and cooking it up for them. We have become the place to go for 'Taconite"! We always host Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve. We love it. But we never had the TV to support a Superbowl bash. We were going to change that for this Superbowl.
Our TV is on its last legs and even my wife has conceded that a new TV needs to be in the budget. One of the many great things about my wife is that when she buys a new appliance, she goes all out. She doesn't go for the cheapest brand or model. She wants what she buys to last forever. As a result we have a laundromat sized washer and drier and a dishwashed that most restaurants would die for. And her philosophy extends to the TV too. We're going hi-def baby!!
And the plan was to make it happen after Christmas when the prices came down a bit more. Then I ended up with the broken foot and we never made it happen before Super Sunday. It just seems like a lot of rigamarol to get the new TV set up. We have to go find the right TV. Find and entertainment center to go with it. Bring it home and set it up. Call the satellite company to upgrade to the HD package. Obviously, this is all worth while when you can see the pimple on top of the pimple on Tom Brady's nose, but I just never made it happen.
And like I said before, we love to have folks over for food and entertaiment and I am the chef. It isn't that my wife can't cook, she just hates doing it. I on the other hand really enjoy it. Not so much to become a chef one day. I would have a hard time creating a meal and then sending it out to the dining room for someone else to enjoy. But with the cast and crutches, cooking has become tough.
I've tried, usually to successful results, but I'm also sore when it is over. The crutches don't add a favorable component to the cooking process, so I usually leave them to the side and hop around the kitchen. This is leading me to think that I might be developing a stress fracture in my good foot now!! How's that for irony? The foot in the cast feels fine, the supposed good foot is sore and creaky.
But for this Super Sunday we're just going to head over to my in-law's house where there will be a giant spread of goodies. I plan on taking up residence on the couch and having people bring me plates of food. But next year, look out. The Super Bowl and Taconite will combine to rock the world!
Our TV is on its last legs and even my wife has conceded that a new TV needs to be in the budget. One of the many great things about my wife is that when she buys a new appliance, she goes all out. She doesn't go for the cheapest brand or model. She wants what she buys to last forever. As a result we have a laundromat sized washer and drier and a dishwashed that most restaurants would die for. And her philosophy extends to the TV too. We're going hi-def baby!!
And the plan was to make it happen after Christmas when the prices came down a bit more. Then I ended up with the broken foot and we never made it happen before Super Sunday. It just seems like a lot of rigamarol to get the new TV set up. We have to go find the right TV. Find and entertainment center to go with it. Bring it home and set it up. Call the satellite company to upgrade to the HD package. Obviously, this is all worth while when you can see the pimple on top of the pimple on Tom Brady's nose, but I just never made it happen.
And like I said before, we love to have folks over for food and entertaiment and I am the chef. It isn't that my wife can't cook, she just hates doing it. I on the other hand really enjoy it. Not so much to become a chef one day. I would have a hard time creating a meal and then sending it out to the dining room for someone else to enjoy. But with the cast and crutches, cooking has become tough.
I've tried, usually to successful results, but I'm also sore when it is over. The crutches don't add a favorable component to the cooking process, so I usually leave them to the side and hop around the kitchen. This is leading me to think that I might be developing a stress fracture in my good foot now!! How's that for irony? The foot in the cast feels fine, the supposed good foot is sore and creaky.
But for this Super Sunday we're just going to head over to my in-law's house where there will be a giant spread of goodies. I plan on taking up residence on the couch and having people bring me plates of food. But next year, look out. The Super Bowl and Taconite will combine to rock the world!
2.01.2008
Snow Day
Hmmmm. What perils await Crutch Boy as eight inches of the white stuff blanketted St Louis last night? Well, sadly, no perils so far. My son's daycare was shut down due to the snow, and my wife's boss wouldn't let anyone take a day off today. So I drove my wife to work and I am home with the kid. Besides, I'm not dumb enough to go crutching around in the snow. I'm enjoying a lazy day. I'm trying to get the numbness in my palms and fingertips to go away that developed in Miami last weekend, I guess from too much crutching. Any of you crutch experts out there know if this is normal? Does it go away? Anyone?
I did have the hankering to put together an "In the Crosshairs" blog today to venemously go after idiot drivers in the snow, specifically these freaks who only clear off their windshield of snow and drive around these giant igloos that dust a fresh coating of snow all over the roads that were just cleared. But then I thought that I would probably be that guy myself in the next couple of days as I probably won't be able to give my vehicle the proper snow clearing that I usually do (I drove the wife to work in her car this morning.)
But it does suck to be stuck at home with a two year old who is crying at the door because he wants to go outside and play in the snow and I can't do a thing about it. Having two giant snowstorms in one season is a bit new for St Louis. We got a big storm in December and now this one. My son loves it! He wants to make another snowman.
When I was a kid, it seemed like we were good for four or five snowstorms a winter, and a bunch of little ones mixed in. I remember the great blizzard of 1982. The funny thing was that my dad was talking about that storm yesterday when thinking about the snow we were about to recieve. And my dad said that storm in '82 dumped 32 inches of snow! I questioned his figure and he stood by it stubbornly. Then on the news last night they put up a graphic listing the biggest January snowstorms in St Louis history and there was the '82 storm; 13 inches! Ha!! If my dad lives another 20 years I guess he'll be telling people about the time 56 inches of snow fell in 1982!
But I would say over the last ten to fifteen years, our region has become quite light when it comes to winter precipitation. Could be Al Gore, could just be a weather cycle, who knows. But I do like getting the snow, even though I could do without it with the crutches.
Things to consider with having a broken foot in the snow...
When looking to go somewhere, only consider going places that have a parking garage. When the crutches are wet, I might as well be on ice. And even parking in a garage is useless if those freaks who don't clear the snow off of their entire car park in there and it starts to melt. I'm supposed to go to the Blues' game tonight with the wife and son and my wife is really excited because I am demanding we get there early, ensuring a spot in the garage. If the garage is full tonight, there will be no free food day heroics. I'll hand my tickets to the first person that wants them and go watch the game at home.
Shoveling the snow isn't happening. This is pretty obvious, but I am pretty picky about keeping my driveway shoveled. I quickly had a thought about shoveling on one foot, but just hopping from the bed to the dresser to get a sock wears out my left leg, so I'm fairly certain the shoveling thing is out. Besides, it is supposed to be 45 and rainy on Monday, that'll shovel the snow for me.
Drive carefully. If I were to end up in a snow related accident, I have all the confidence in the world that it would be the other guy's fault, especially those other guys who zip around in their Saturns and Kias as if there is no snow at all. However, if the police were to be alerted to my left foot driving situation, I would probably be sited for something. So, I gotta drive carefully. Which I always do.
Close the blinds up real tight. With all the snow it makes the room awfuly bright when you are trying to take a nap. And here's a question, how come nobody has the hotel room curtain situation in their own house? Last week in Miami, after the marathon, we slept for a solid four hours in a room that was darker than the inside of a cow. Why? Because the hotel curtains made it so. Isn't that what we want out of curtains? Darkness? The ability to make noon look like midnight? Yet why doesn't anyone have those curtains at home? I want these curtains! Do you call Home Depot for that or do you just call the Radisson? I'm getting on that.
In the meantime, I'm taking a nap while my son does.
I did have the hankering to put together an "In the Crosshairs" blog today to venemously go after idiot drivers in the snow, specifically these freaks who only clear off their windshield of snow and drive around these giant igloos that dust a fresh coating of snow all over the roads that were just cleared. But then I thought that I would probably be that guy myself in the next couple of days as I probably won't be able to give my vehicle the proper snow clearing that I usually do (I drove the wife to work in her car this morning.)
But it does suck to be stuck at home with a two year old who is crying at the door because he wants to go outside and play in the snow and I can't do a thing about it. Having two giant snowstorms in one season is a bit new for St Louis. We got a big storm in December and now this one. My son loves it! He wants to make another snowman.
When I was a kid, it seemed like we were good for four or five snowstorms a winter, and a bunch of little ones mixed in. I remember the great blizzard of 1982. The funny thing was that my dad was talking about that storm yesterday when thinking about the snow we were about to recieve. And my dad said that storm in '82 dumped 32 inches of snow! I questioned his figure and he stood by it stubbornly. Then on the news last night they put up a graphic listing the biggest January snowstorms in St Louis history and there was the '82 storm; 13 inches! Ha!! If my dad lives another 20 years I guess he'll be telling people about the time 56 inches of snow fell in 1982!
But I would say over the last ten to fifteen years, our region has become quite light when it comes to winter precipitation. Could be Al Gore, could just be a weather cycle, who knows. But I do like getting the snow, even though I could do without it with the crutches.
Things to consider with having a broken foot in the snow...
When looking to go somewhere, only consider going places that have a parking garage. When the crutches are wet, I might as well be on ice. And even parking in a garage is useless if those freaks who don't clear the snow off of their entire car park in there and it starts to melt. I'm supposed to go to the Blues' game tonight with the wife and son and my wife is really excited because I am demanding we get there early, ensuring a spot in the garage. If the garage is full tonight, there will be no free food day heroics. I'll hand my tickets to the first person that wants them and go watch the game at home.
Shoveling the snow isn't happening. This is pretty obvious, but I am pretty picky about keeping my driveway shoveled. I quickly had a thought about shoveling on one foot, but just hopping from the bed to the dresser to get a sock wears out my left leg, so I'm fairly certain the shoveling thing is out. Besides, it is supposed to be 45 and rainy on Monday, that'll shovel the snow for me.
Drive carefully. If I were to end up in a snow related accident, I have all the confidence in the world that it would be the other guy's fault, especially those other guys who zip around in their Saturns and Kias as if there is no snow at all. However, if the police were to be alerted to my left foot driving situation, I would probably be sited for something. So, I gotta drive carefully. Which I always do.
Close the blinds up real tight. With all the snow it makes the room awfuly bright when you are trying to take a nap. And here's a question, how come nobody has the hotel room curtain situation in their own house? Last week in Miami, after the marathon, we slept for a solid four hours in a room that was darker than the inside of a cow. Why? Because the hotel curtains made it so. Isn't that what we want out of curtains? Darkness? The ability to make noon look like midnight? Yet why doesn't anyone have those curtains at home? I want these curtains! Do you call Home Depot for that or do you just call the Radisson? I'm getting on that.
In the meantime, I'm taking a nap while my son does.
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