Friday, November 27, 2009

The dirty rot.

If anybody was wondering, getting ran over by an old man on a 7'0 surfboard isn't quite as fun as one might think. The human body is a pretty well built mechanism, there is fatty cushion where we need it and muscle like goodness in other regions, but when it comes to the ankle bone, there is about a millimeter or two of skin meat before you hit precious ankle bone...A small part of me wished I could go my entire life without seeing any of my own boney goodness....those wishes were shattered on one perfect sunny friday morning, the waves were going off, the wind was offshore, and I was a happy camper. I maybe had 3 waves under my belt when I saw a massive set out the back, I scratched out to sea and put myself in the spot for the first wave, it was a solid 12-15 foot face that was hucking, I stalled straight off the drop trying to get all slater-like just flirting with the foam ball and got greedy not allowing me to exit the chube....All was well, and I was trying to reel in my board to get back out there when I saw an old goon boomer dropping in on a massive close out, he was taking off much too late just rolling up the windows on his suicide drop from the heavens, he somehow landed it then thought it would be a tasty idea to bottom turn directly over me, I saw the path of danger I was in and had only a split second to react, so I dove. I put my feet in the air and down periscoped till I was inches from being completely submerged.......those inches have been my regretful downfall over the past month, just inches did my right foot stick out, just inches caused a $1,200 ER bill, just inches..Just inches....anywho before I get emotional the story must go on.
The old man bottom turned directly over my ankle splitting the meat exposing my precious bone, I somehow made my way in and up the beach hailing a lift to the nearest ER where I acquired about 5 or 6 sexual stitched.......fast foward 3 weeks. A partner of mine has 24th birthday party, I go, I dance, I bleed. I get home and my right sock and shoe is drenched with my sweet sweet ankle blood..the poor wound is now tender and fresh again extremely susceptible to infection.....So I obviously acquire a dirty rotting ankle infection that for some reason turns my foot into a babbling brook of ankle ooze. I let this go on 6 days until I wake up this morning still not being able to walk since monday and decide I should stop ignoring my friends and family and just go to a doctor as awful as that sounds..I go, I snag 4 handfuls of band-aids into my pockets and wait for the obvious diagnosis.....then it comes, its a terrible infection that needs antibiotics.
Then I pay the bill, pick up drugs and now I am here writing my stress away.
So point being, don't do any activity that your great grandmother wouldn't do.....
I need to learn how to run a sewing machine.






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