Walking with a limp today and nursing a right arm that’s pretty much useless. Thanks to a foot that slipped on some loose gravel, I ended up underneath a 680-lb motorcycle in a Meadows of Dan parking lot Sunday.
Several fellow riders and some metric riders who were nearby rushed over and lifted the bike off. It wasn’t even scratched but a right ankle pinned under a footpeg was mangled and a right shoulder that struck the ground hard when the bike went down is stiff. As luck would have it, it’s the shoulder with a bad rotator cuff. At the moment, I can’t lift my arm to even shoulder level, shift the manual transmission in my Wrangler and even put on a shirt without help.
At 61, I’m finding that a combination of old age and old injuries get the last laugh. With bum knees, bad hips and ankles held together with pins, screws and probably baling wire, I’m an orthopedic nightmare.
A hour in the hot tub helped some Sunday night. So did lots of Ibuprofin. But trying to pick up a coffee cup at Cafe del Sol today brought a sharp stab of pain.
With luck, I can work it off over the next few days. If not, an orthopedic surgeon who’s been sharpening his scalpel in Roanoke may get his wish.
But not if I can help it.
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