My company does significant business with Autozone and as G.M. they often perk me with some nice tickets and yesterday we sat first row, behind the home dugout, just down the third base line. Sweet!
I had a really nice time, despite the home team loss, and even felt healthy as the walk from parking was easier for me than my late-seventies year old parents. At least until about the sixth inning.
Needing a little bladder comfort therapy I rose to make a trip to the facilities and naturally asked if I could get anyone something from the concessions. Unfortunately orders were placed.
As I stood in line to place a small order for drinks and hot dogs I began to worry about being able to handle the money, pick-up the order, and put the desired condiments on the dogs. As I neared the front of the line my right leg began its customary nervous quiver. The quiver (tremor) is hardly visible but it is terribly disconcerting and makes it difficult to make quick decisions as a great deal of brain power is being used to keep the strongest muscles in my body from breaking into a one-legged Celtic jig.
Thinking ahead I paid with the biggest bill I had to avoid fumbling with money, placed my order (skipping myself because I, by now, had lost my appetite), and managed to precariously stack the two drinks and two hot dogs, carrying with my left hand and steadying with my now slightly trembling right. I made it to the nearby condiment table, unstacked, and added mustard and pickles to the dogs. Restacked the order and began my journey from the top steps all the way down to the front row (see video above).
Now despite your expectations that this all ended in disaster....it didn't. I delivered the goods and plopped satisfactorily into my seat. (albeit now hungry).
A day at the ballpark is great therapy and now, good for my waistline.
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NOTE: I am NOT bald and could never dance a jig like the fine gentlemen in the video.
NOTE: I am NOT bald and could never dance a jig like the fine gentlemen in the video.
Good on ya!
ReplyDeleteMy idea of baseball is hotdogs and beer. I've no idea what's happening on the field. I do, however, relate a bit to what you say here. Sometimes the tiny spots on my brain (MS) cause me to do oh-so-entertaining things such as fall over or miss a door and hit the wall. And you are much, MUCH nicer than I. I'd probably have told them to get their own ding dang dogs and by the way, one for me, too!
Hang tough.
wow, that was a lot of jumbling, and you did it. and you sound so upbeat too. I am so glad. I rented a tiller and we are going to do a small garden, this will be Kel's project, fresh grown veggies. I started some seedlings tonight in cups. You made me smile reading your posting, thinking of you doing the JIG!! karla
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful story, and one of courage and determination. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, which is certainly not even remotely in the realm of your problems, and even though much of the pain is under control through self-injections, I still cannot walk very far due to pain in my knees. I truly dread the kinds of situation you describe here. And having two active children, one of whom plays soccer, it is impossible to avoid them. The next time I am faced with a similar circumstance, I will think of you and your courage, my friend.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this story.. I didn't doubt for a second that the story will end nicely.. You are a very strong man and your stories continue to inspire me so much..
ReplyDeleteFay,
ReplyDeleteI know that the time will come when even those adventures are no longer possible, so I try to hide my infirmities as best I can for know.
I'm sorry to hear about your MS. Ironically, until my illness I was a primary fund-raiser for our local MS Society. It is close to my heart.
Karla,
I've been reluctant to begin my annual garden (I get frustrated and tired so easily) but it has always been something I love doing. See my post from last year: http://corticowhat.blogspot.com/2009/06/knowing-its-last-time.html
jadedj,
Thanks. I think the dread of of an oncoming situation often turns out to be worse than the ordeal.
Miss O.T.,
I'm flattered and humbled, but not very strong.