I hobbled to the city last week for my three-week surgeon’s appointment and he was slightly vexed with my lack of skin sticking together where he slashed me open, but he was excited at the rate of my internal healing. I’m still in the moon sandal and the first attempt at getting a shoe on was a big fail, so I’m trying again this weekend. And I’m getting a ride to the beach as my friend said walking in sea water is helpful for swollen gammy feet, so I’ll be the dork at the beach in Melbourne’s winter taking my foot for a paddle. I used to do that with racehorses so I’m fully expecting to come out of the water a thoroughbred.
I returned to the day job and my manager has been collecting me and dropping me home, which has been a huge win for both of us. I get a ride and he gets my sparkling company and amazing motivation to work until about 1pm when I start missing my nanna nap.
The funniest part of the trip to the surgeon’s was at the tram stop to return to the city. I saw a young executive-type chap wearing a smart suit, shirt and tie, and one of his legs was encased in a toe-to-knee moonboot with his trousers tucked in. I didn’t think before speaking and said, “Hey, yours is better than mine!” He looked at my tits, looked bewildered and then realised I was referring to my inferior moon sandal. He nodded kindly like I was a bit of a moron and I vowed never to speak to strangers again.
But I couldn’t help myself. The train ride was stressful with two young men drugged off their nuts in the carriage. They got off at my station (of course) and waited with me at the elevator. I wanted to tell them to use the goddamn stairs because they weren’t functionally-challenged like me, but I remembered my vow to not talk to strangers. Then the taller and wider of the two tripped over an ant or something and nearly stood on gammy foot. I heard a voice yell, “Get the fuck away from my foot, you fucking moron!” Oh, that was my voice. I escaped unharmed.
Crank-o-meter: dragging my heels, and still not wearing polka dots
Um, ah… he had a perv at the crankytwins, then, eh?
Er…
Just read the news that Morrissey is re-releasing Bona Drag with new art-work and several sub-optimal out-takes and the Moz-sung version of Please Help The Cause Against Loneliness and an early attempt at what became At Amber in September, so you won’t get much sense from me until then…
Crankytwins!
Hahaha… Good to see they’re getting out and about, anyway.
And at least the drugfuckedmoron didn’t actually step on your foot. Good luck with the water therapy, although I’m not convinced of the cleanliness of some of Melbourne’s beaches :S
Aren’t you supposed to be embellishing your moonboot or something?
Funny, comrade, funny
. I’m assuming because he looked at him that he was packing a set of his own!
Oh, this Morrissey business sounds most serious indeed. Remember to take food and water regularly, and perhaps a nap every few days.
lila, I’ll go to a higher-rent beach and not the surf beach were raw effluent is piped out
. I was going to sequin-ise my moonboot but the surgeon said he’s seen one before — damn original people with earlier-generation gammy feet.
haha it’s amazing how you start seeing moon boots everywhere when you’re a cripple. think of it as an exclusive club. i remember having a lovely convo in a train station lift with a girl who had broken her foot in three places after kicking the fridge. made me feel a little bit better about breaking mine stepping off the kerb while crossing the road…
nice blog btw
ooh come to a beach near me and we can paddle together!
)
I still haven’t got around to visiting my nearest beach, it’s been too brr-worthy lately.
I’m going to be showing everyone my scar when I’ve had surgery, so junkies on trams/trains beware!!! (my liver scar, not the other one
Hello, Rachel, and welcome to both this little place and the smashed-up foot club! Why does this always happen in less-than-dramatic circumstances? Why can’t we break bones fighting crocodiles while kayaking rapids using nothing but woven vine leaves and buffalo ribs for oars during a tsunami? Nah, stepping off a kerb or kicking the Kelvinator. I still don’t know how mine turned to shit so perhaps I could invent a crazy story to impress people.
I would if I could get anywhere, Fen! (not that I know where you are *laughs*) You’ve got scars and piercings in cool places so I’m not going into a scar-flashing contest against you.
alas i’ve lost most of my piercings and i heal really well, so most of my scars you can no longer see. But this one is going to be the scar to end all scars, I don’t think this will fade into insignificance in this lifetime. YAY!
I can picture you being rolled into theatre and wrapping your hand around the surgeon’s throat ever-so-gently, and saying, “Make it a good scar.”
I’ve been meaning to ask, can u moonwalk in a moon sandal?
As for a beach, I recommend Sunnyside North.
Ha ha, that would be after I’ve asked them to set up a video so they can record it for me to watch later! Surgery is fascinating. I wonder if they’ll give me staples instead of stitches!
comrade, I did a few moonwalks to commemorate the anniversary of MJ’s death, which happened to coincide with the wearing of the moonboot. I’m afraid I can only pivot on my left leg, and not terribly well. Ha ha, I went to Mornington as I was unsure if Sunnyside North was dog friendly.
Fen, you could be on one of those reality hospital TV shows!