keep on crutchin’

I have been on crutches 3 times in my life (so far).

The first was in High School when in a fairly bad accident. My girlfriend, Missa, was driving us back to school from lunch? band practice? making out? I can’t remember. We were in her red Fiero, which I know now to be an absolutely horrible car; but, I must admit was fun to drive back in the day. Plus she looked hot in it. We were turning left with a green arrow when a lifted, white, Nissan pickup truck went around a car stopped at the opposing light, into the opposite left hand turn lane, proceeded to instead pass straight through the intersection and right into…me, basically, in the passenger seat. I remember how the bottom of the truck’s grill was in-line with the top of my head right before impact.

At any rate, the impact crumpled the passenger door and threw it into my knee, which would later swell alarmingly. I had to climb out of my luckily open window to get out and physically lift my screaming and crying girlfriend out of the driver’s seat who was, miraculously, completely uninjured. The Fiero was totaled and the pickup truck was apparently drivable because it was a hit and run.

Crutches for about a week.

The second was when I was living in the Bay Area and playing basketball in an all-asian league (except for me). I spent a lot of free time at a local school shooting baskets alone and I noticed how some people played games in the gym. One time they were playing on the outside courts for some reason or another and they needed an extra guy. Enter the white man. I played a few more pick-up games with them until one day one of the few english speakers told me it was $25/month for the rental of the gym. I took this as being accepted into their circle. I wasn’t the best player on the team, but I also wasn’t the worst and it felt good to have “friends” even though I didn’t know more than two of their names and no one ever spoke to me (or perhaps could speak to me.

One day, I chased down a player on a fast break, went up to block his lay-up, and destroyed my ankle on the way down. I iced it with peas that night and went to bed with my leg propped up on pillows thinking that that was the worst of it. The next morning, I lightly placed my now purple, zeppelin-shaped foot on the floor and screamed in pain. I crawled on all fours to the bathroom and washed my face leaning into the tub, went to urgent care, and was told that it would have been better if I’d just broken my ankle, because this was as bad a sprain as I could possibly get and it would probably never heal to full strength (which has so far proven to be true).

Crutches for about two weeks. Special prize for also being on said crutches when I was laid-off…which made for a particularly pathetic figure as I struggled to hold my box of belongings and crutch my way to my car.

And the third is right now. A large half-baseball sized pus-filled swelling appeared on the back of my knee two days ago which has since been diagnosed (at the ER) as a staph infection. It hurts, I can’t straighten (or really bend) my leg, and walking is extremely difficult at best without crutches.

Crutches for two days and counting…

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