Mile 1963.38 - Winged (PTMI)

This morning when I woke up I had some discomfort in my shoulder - enough such that I called the Doctor and resigned myself to a visit to his office - apparently things are not healing.

After a bit of wait, I got exposed to a bunch of x-rays and a bunch of "hmm, hmmm, mmmmmmmmm'ing" - My doctor really does that - I'm not sure if I'm more reassured by knowing he's an "old school" kind of guy because he does this or if the sounds are more alarming and make my mind conjure up all sorts of bizarre possibilities -

Would they amputate my arm? Was the swelling due to some rare, hitherto undiscovered, species of spider, one of which that took a bite? Would I need to carry around an orange cone to place next to me to warn people away since I had a raging contagious infection? Is one of the freckles on my shoulders actually the preliminary growth of a third head? Or worse, was it the dreaded big "C" word? He tut-tutted some more and then left the room, leaving me alone to pretend I was man enough to face down my fears. I know I stared at the beige walls grimly while I waited.

A short while later, a nurse came in and probed my shoulders a bit more - and she too left, taking her awful fingers made of frozen ice with her. In solitude, I waited yet some more - by now, I was mentally working my way through an update to my last will and testament, my imagination in hyper-overdrive. I had just finished arguing with myself as to the soundness of my mind (and reaching no positive conclusion) when I was startled by the door swinging open without warning. A couple blurry looking x-rays were clamped on the light box that hangs on the examination room and with equal abruptness - this faceless green smock-wearing person vanished out the door.

I could not contain myself and got up and peered at the film. Hmmm, I said to myself... hmmm.... and then I sat down thinking to myself, "I can't believe I'm hmmm, hmmming... nor can I believe anyone can make any heads or tails out of *that* murky mess."

Time slowly shuffled by, I looked at the electric clock on the wall and carefully, "Did it? Did I see the second hand stop?!" I stare at that second hand so intently the rest of the room vanishes from my view. The staring contest goes on and on... time had completely stopped. My mind had complete frozen, trapped in that moment - when there is a soft tap at the door - I shift on my chair as if drunk, unable to comprehend what had distracted me... when the soft tap sounded again, this time more insistently. "Um, whad?" I say, exhibiting my awesome intelligence to the world as I wipe the drool from the side of my mouth - and the door opened. The Doctor strides into the room, purposefully, and goes directly to the x-rays hanging in the light box and flicks on the light. Simultaneously, a light goes on in my head, "Oh!!! You got to turn on the light!"

Peering at the now lit film, he traces something invisible to any (very) mortal man such as myself, and says, "Oh dear. We will have to do something about that." He turns to me and says, "You will need a little bit of surgery to repair a mumble-something-cysto-mumble-adenoma-somthing or other-ritoneum, I'll have the nurse schedule it for you. Do you have any questions?"

While my mind goes "hummety hummety hummety what did he say?" My mouth says "Will I have time to walk to Canada first?"

The Doctor goes rigid. I can see the thoughts cascading in his eyes - "Is this man insane? Psychotic? Walk to Canada?!?? Have I overlooked something in my diagnosis? Am I at risk? Will he pull a knife on me?"

I slowly realized, living in my own little world as I do, that I had confused him. I hastily explained the Virtual Walking thing to him and he slowly relaxed and eventually smiled (probably more relieved by the knowing he'd live another day than by anything else). He rubbed his chin and pondered and said, "How much farther to do you have to go?"

"About 70 miles," I replied.

"I think you will be alright if you wear this sling to immobilize the shoulder. You must of course stop walking if you experience any pain after walking however."

So my examination at long last came to an end and I'm scheduled for a little body shop work in mid-September. With luck, I'll be in Lubec, Maine looking at Campobello Island before then

- And until then, I'll feel like that old rusty tractor I photographed at the Norristown Farm Park a while back.