My Right Foot
I did not heed the signs my right foot was giving me. Spending too much time on the treadmill at Holmes Place, I said to myself, ignoring the pains. This morning I woke up with a stabbing pain in my big toe that was getting swollen every minute — the consequence of too much sushi-sashimi on soy sauce cum wasabi I had yesterday for late lunch with two friends. At the restaurant, I noticed there was no sashimi left on the buffet table when we arrived, so I asked the waiter to have it replenished. Done and Happy with the sushi-sashimi starter, it was time to tackle the Chinese food side of the buffet. A couple of hours later, at the home of one of the friends I had lunch with, we shared a bottle of chilled sparkling wine. I was indeed enjoying the good life until a pulsating pain woke me up from sleep in the middle of the night. I searched for pain medication in the bathroom and found none, and the litany of expletives didn’t help either to ease the pain.
I’m curious if indulging in all the sushi, sashimi, and Chinese buffet treats for just 7.50 euros three times a week truly reflects a good life for a retiree like me, especially with a pension tied to the US dollar. What will life be like when the dollar regains strength?
I went to my doctor’s clinic limping in a cane like this Viennese Opa (grandfather), whom I met in the elevator. We have the same doctor. He knows how it feels, and the doctor could not do much, he said, referring to our canes. Nothing much he can do about the race against age, he added in an attempt to humor me. Take it from me, he laughed. I could see he was much older than me, but then I saw my reflection in the elevator’s mirror and wondered if my facial cream had stopped working its magic on me.
The walk home from the train station to my place usually takes a good 10 minutes. With my foot hurting like hell, I had to stop now and then; it took me twenty minutes this time to get home in the rain.
Once home, I managed to take off my jacket, which was dripping wet, and dumped it in the hallway. I lost balance trying to take off my shoes, and I fell on the floor face down, spilling all over the place the yogurt, the bananas, and the oranges I got from the neighborhood grocery. I screamed in pain so loud I worried the police might come, not moving until I could manage to wiggle my way to the living room like Jezebel — the mermaid character from my childhood comics novel. Apropos, shaking like Jezebel, I remembered playing today’s Lotto hoping to win so I can get myself wheels – wheelchair to be specific.
Oh, drat Chinese buffet! Drat sashimi and sushi dipped in soy sauce cum wasabi! Never again, I swore! Oh, well! Ask me again in three days because humor helps me cope with these mishaps, and I hope it does for my audience, too.
November 21, 2015