......finding a new home for lutefisk lovers.

(ok we don't love it. or even like it. but we're supposed to.)

18 June 2012

The Not So Much of a Highlight Reel: Mini Golf Can Be a Dangerous Sport

**MOVING DAY IS DRAWING NEAR!   I'll be re-posting some of the highlights of our New England experience until the world stops spinning and I get rid of this stress-induced rash!   See you in Minnesota!!

On Thursday, I suffered a sprained ankle and foot fracture.............I fell off a tiny bridge while playing putt putt golf. It was a pirate-themed establishment called Captain's Cove. I was trip-trapping, trip-trapping over the bridge when I heard a SNAP (oh - did that come from me?). And in the fraction of a second before I hit the ground, I saw all the children and grandparents looking at me, and said to myself "KEEP IT CLEAN!!!!!!!!!!"

Liam ran and got ice. Then I nursed my injury while he continued his round of putt putt golf with another family. No - I did not know them. And no - I did not even ask their names. I just said ok. This is actually a recurring theme; when we go to family-oriented events, Liam tends to shamelessly insert himself into other families and hang with them.........instead of us. Like Mike and I don't even exist. We sit off to the side, discarded, and wonder if it's normal. So he leaves me on the ground and happily takes off with his new family whose names I don't know. In the meantime, I notice that a line is forming behind me; people think I'm sitting on the ground contemplating how to get my ball past the waterfall. So, as I ice my foot, I also direct traffic and assure people that no mini-golf etiquette will be breached if they pass me.

After a good 20 minutes (Liam could be in the minivan with his new family by this time), I hoist myself up and use my tiny golf club as a cane so I can hobble/hop into the pirate clubhouse. The two teenage workers offer to refund my money, which is really nice, but I need more help than that. Did I mention that Mike is out of town? And we've lived here for 13 days? So I haven't met any emergency contacts yet? I don't think it's wise to drive and I don't know how serious the injury is and the mini-golf teenagers won't let me take my golf club cane home (just to get me home! I promise I'll bring it back! But they say no.) so it seems best, if not a little over-the-top, to call an ambulance. At least they can assess the injury and tell me what to do. Maybe they could even give me a very expensive ride home. Or to the hospital. So we call and we wait for the embarrassment to ensue.

Liam appears at the 18th hole (thank god) and starts throwing a completely age-inappropriate fit when he learns that I won't be joining him for another 18 holes (I guess that other family didn't pan out). My leg is propped on a picnic bench, covered in ice, and he's screaming at me like "get off your ass woman and play putt putt with me!" Children and grandparents watching - stunned and embarrassed. Me - mortified and completely speechless. And then (dramatic pause) the ambulance arrives. Can you say SWEET timing? And he suddenly understands the connection between me falling, running for ice, leg on picnic table and the ambulance. As if that had not occurred to him before. Why why why must children be so narcissistic?????

The EMT's are somewhat useless if not mildly entertaining. They're like two teenage boys who drive an ambulance because it's fun. They say yes it's sprained (yep, I got that. Should I do anything or just write about it in my diary?). They give me no information unless I ask them a direct question. And they give 2 or 3 answers for every one question. As in "well, you could go to the hospital and get x-rays or you could just go home and see how it feels. Or you could go to the hospital later and get it wrapped or something." They seem hesitant to drive me anyplace - which seems strange because I thought that was why we have ambulances. So I ask if they can wrap it for me and then I'll skip the hospital. And here's where my faith in our local emergency system is completely crushed: THEY DON'T HAVE AN ACE BANDAGE! Is it really possible that they don't have a first aid kit in their ambulance??!! Now, I'm definitely going to the hospital where my chances of getting some real guidance will increase. Liam is pushing for an ambulance ride (for my welfare, of course) but the EMT's encourage me to drive myself.........using my left foot. They even give me a lesson. And I agree because I'm not convinced the ambulance ride would be any safer. Like maybe we'll have to stop for a dimebag on the way or something.

And..............tune in tomorrow for the next installment of "Mini Golf Can Be a Dangerous Sport."


Laura said...

OK, #1, wasn't your move to NH supposed to have something to do with MIke being located closer to his work? So he, like, wouldn't have to travel as much?

#2, Oh my God! This story is so tragic it's hard to laugh at the really funny parts.

Kristin said...

I know - that's everyone's first reaction. Where's Mike???? He will be traveling much much much less but will still have one or two short trips a month. This one just happened to be a poorly timed, once a year, really prolonged work commitment. oy.