I have taken the opportunity of this blog in the past to help you learn from my mistakes when it comes to either the pool or existing in the wonderful world that is Las Vegas.
Recent events have brought yet another lesson that I am painfully enduring. It only stands to follow that as I sip this Hopslam on a beautiful (well, at least it's not snowing) Saturday night, I pass along some tips from the past three weeks. If you have ever had the unfortunate displeasure of using crutches, you will know the vantage point from which these observations are born.
And you will know it sucks.
1). First and foremost--it is not your bad leg you need to worry about. It's your good leg. You will have the occasional slip where you will land on your bad leg. It hurts. It goes away. Every time you get up, your good leg gets the stress. It is accustomed to help. It's not getting any. I am actually worried about my good calf. It has cramped every night for the past three.
2). Use your kids. They have been on the gravy train for too long. Etan and Yzzi have been awesome throughout this and I am so appreciative. But there is a little part of me (ok, it's a big part)that says "I deserve this" based on what I have given (and they have taken) in the six and eight years, respectively, that I have had the good fortune to have them in my life. They are going to have to do it permanently someday anyway...might as well practice now. Right?
3). Vegas is doable but get a motorized cart. They bring them to your room and it's $30/day. I didn't do this and my hands still hurt two weeks later. My only concern with getting a cart was how long it would take some drunk muscle head to try and take it for joyride out of the sports book.
4). Don't be a hero. There's plenty of sympathy out there, regardless of "why" you are on the crutches. First in line for bets. Head of the line for airport security. Most people get doors--at least the sober ones.
5). TSA does not care about your crutches. Especially when your ID says "Arthur" but your ticket says "Artie". I got special treatment but it wasn't the good kind. They wanted me to "crutch" all the way back to the ticket window and when I refused, they put me through their version of torture. Memo to TSA--I don't care how many times you tell me ahead of time exactly what you are going to do to me--it doesn't make it more comfortable and it certainly won't make it less uncomfortable. And would it kill you to get a book of "names and nicknames"?
6). If you have stairs, start practicing the backwards butt crawl up the stairs. See #4--there is no glory in hopping up the stairs . See #1--hopping puts more wear on the good leg. The same does not hold for down the stairs. Use gravity, and the railing, to your advantage.
7). Don't start walking until the doc says so. Two weeks will become four. Trust me. It isn't worth it. (But it is fun to show off the bruising to the squeamish!!)
8). Contemplate where you went wrong--in my case, a 47-year old needs to accept he is no longer 25. The "real" 25-year olds will not realize why you are taking it easy...until they are 47. It is not "half-assing' it. It is "adapting".
9). Those hooks halfway down the crutch? They are necessary to keep you upright. I live to tell the tale--the fall was not good.
And finally, #10. Accept the perspective. Some people go through life with out limitation and die without any appreciation for what they have. Embrace the challenge--it might even be fun. This has actually become my own virtual video game and while it frustrates me about as much as Mario, when I figure out how to do something difficult while on crutches, I get the same feeling from solving a difficult Sudoku puzzle.
This perspective will certainly make the good times that much better.
Peace,
Reg
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