skilcoyne.com

I fucked up my knee a few years back; you can google ruptured quadriceps tendon for the gory details. Full recovery was never on the table, but it’s fine most of the time. Though I am better off on flat sidewalks than lawns or hills or unpaved paths. Today I went for a walk in the park, which has all of those things, so I took the L.L. Bean Rambler compact telescopic walking stick (or to the casual observer, a cane), pictured above, with me. I carried it slung over my shoulder for the walk to and from the park and just extended it when I needed it.

Worked great. BUT…leaving the park, I had to cross a street.

Standing in a clearly marked crosswalk, still with a fucking cane in my hand, five cars went right by me like I wasn’t there. The sixth car stopped and let me cross, but I think that might have had something to do with me flipping off the driver of the fifth car while waving a cane around.

Then, on my way home from the park, I stopped to help an old man who had fallen out of his wheelchair in his driveway. The younger man with him (and by younger, I mean about my age) had been trying to lift him for a while, but he was too big, about 400 pounds, and the wheelchair seat was too high.

Even together we couldn’t get him into the wheelchair. We managed to get him off the ground and into a different, lower chair. And then the younger man managed the transfer into the wheelchair.

I asked if he’d called 911. It seemed like an emergency services situation to me. He said he didn’t because it would have cost $500.

An old man on the ground unable to get up can’t ask for help because he can’t afford it?

FUCK!