Posted by: Kathy White | August 2, 2010

It Only Hurts A Little

So, I spent a weekend with the walking wounded. And it was eye-opening. It was a busy weekend.

I started off Saturday at a 21st birthday party. She’s a great gal, who is the granddaughter of my close neighbor and friend. It was all youth and fun, with swimming pool and hot dogs and hamburgers. Amanda, the party girl, can’t drink due to some health issues but there was plenty of fun with virgin pina coladas and daquiries. It was in Brentwood and I expected it to be scorching hot but it wasn’t. All in all, a good time.

Next we headed home for some time down time before heading over to my buddy’s 40th birthday party. Whole different party. I almost immediately started laughing just because the first 15 minutes was a recap of everybody’s wounds. We’re all in our 40s and 50s and we had to run down the bangs, boo-boos, and broken brones.

One friend had managed to have a glass tabletop fall off of patio furniture and fall on him while he was getting it off the car. It bounced down his shin three times and part of his leg is still numb — and it shows the scars of the accident.

Two more both had wisdom teeth out. One that involved surgery and he looks a little like Marlon Brando from the Godfather — although I couldn’t get him to say any of the lines for amusement. Can’t figure out why. Pass the Vicodin! And wine!

Then we had stomach issues and tendons with issues.  I kept thinking that this is what our parties are going to be from now on — busy time discussing our wounds. How will we ever make it to get our wine glasses filled what with all the walkers and canes and stuff. The visual, in my mind anyway, was pretty funny.

So, I spend Sunday chillin’ on the couch and my doorbell rings and it’s Patti’s son, Donnie. Now, he’s a helluva prankster so when he says “guess who broke her arm” I figure he’s kidding. He’s not. After we left the party, Patti tripped by the pool and has two hairline fractures in her left arm, which is her writing arm. She was my main helper here in the neighborhood. Now, between the two of us, we barely make a whole human. Geeez.

So, I’m thinking that’s the end of it. What else can happen? Today rolls around and two more hits. First, my next door neighbor comes over and can’t even bend — back went out. What is going on?

Finally, the capper: My main compadre in dealing with the job market gives me a call and she had an accident on her bicycle this weekend and she may need knee surgery — which could mean a big gig we were trying to land together may be dead in the water. Oh, boy!

So, be well. Watch your step. Don’t pick up heavy things or if you do, lift with your knees — and never, ever try to go down uneven steps in the dark.


  1. It’s the mystic cloud of humanities suffering hordes hovering around you. Their sympathy towards the long days you’ve spent seeking relief from Maury, Jerry, Drew and Tom has woven itself into….ah hell, I dunno. Aging. It’s the common denominator. My experience has been that things happen, you lay out your own misfortune, notice that no one gives a shit so you ignore it. By doing so the little quirks disappear and your health gets better. Trust me. I should know and you know that.

  2. John Wayne in GREEN BERETS!

    Lace up that boot!


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