It was Friday. I was trying to make a LIRR train. I needed to get home and shower before attending a Wedding rehearsal. My sister, Angela, was getting married on Sunday and I was asked to walk her down the aisle.
On the last step down to track 19 some maniac tossed a full can of beer down the stairs, landing on my left calf. The pain forced me to limp towards the train. Wanting revenge, I briefly thought about going back up the stairs. But I would miss the train. And I doubt I could find the person. I stared at the unopened can on the bottom step as I hopped on the train.
Once seated, my calf began to swell. I sent a text to my wife, Lisa "minor leg injury. need to have ice ready"
Lisa thought I was joking. The thought of a leg injury two days before the Wedding was insane. Once home, Lisa wasn't believing the tall-boy projectile theory. And I didn't see a bruise. How could one can of beer cause such swelling?
Lisa iced it and I limped to Angela's Wedding rehearsal.
No improvement by Saturday morning. And no black & blue Budweiser engravings on my calf. I went to the Stony Brook Hospital emergency room, kindle in hand.
Five hours later I was released with a new perception of the injury. The calf muscle was slightly torn. None of the doctors implicated Anheuser-Busch in any way. I was never hit with a beer can! It just felt like that.
I requested one pain killer. One little pill to enable me to walk Angela down without limping. After a quick meeting they prescribed percocet. I googled the drug and decided against taking it. I was also, illegally, given naprosyn. Which I googled, and didn't take. Tylenol and ice was the best route for me.
My calf felt much better after being wrapped tightly in an ace bandage.
One doctor told me that I can walk if I can take the pain. He explained that walking will not further injure the calf.
Armed with that little piece of information I was on a mission not to limp for the walk. I stayed on the couch, leg up and iced, the rest of the day.
On Angela's day I was limping. My daughters laughed at my getto-swagger attempt to hide the limp. I kept the pain killers on me, just in case.
Once at Angela's house I realized how little my limp mattered. Angela is an incredibly beautiful lady with a smile that could accomplish miracles.
I walked without a limp.
We walked slowly. Deacon Jim said "The slower the walk, the longer the marriage".
