And climb the stairs to the beach...

Thursday, May 01, 2014

Never Save the Sandwich

I suppose if you believe in Serendipity, like I must admit I do, the universe was probably sending me a message yesterday when I opened up my "A Writer's Book of Days" to the suggestion of the day: "Write about an injury."  My friend Sandy had been encouraging me to write about it and a few others had been asking where my blog was lately. So, here we are on a Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit day and I thought it would be fitting to post something.

It was a morning like so many others here in paradise. The sky was a perfect blue with thread-like wisps of white clouds that looked like they'd been placed there just to contrast the blue. It was early enough in the day that the heat hadn't set in yet, but dry enough that the dew on the fairways wasn't slowing down the roll we women count on to get us to the green. The front nine holes was a course called Pine, and our foursome had just finished number 9 before heading on to Cypress for the back nine. I had a really good round and had great expectations for the second half of the game.

Sandy and Peg were in the other cart, but Peg decided she'd only play the front nine. While Sandy drove off to deliver Peg back to the clubhouse, Connie and I were going to meet her over at the next tee. But, it was nearing noon and the snack cart pulled up. We decided to get a sandwich to eat on the fly as we played. "Can you get me a half a tuna sandwich?" Sandy asked. "Sure" I answered, not knowing how that innocent little exchange would effect my life. I always say I'd like there to be a soundtrack in my life, and if there had been, I certainly would have heard those 5 notes of the Dragnet Theme we all know.

Connie and I chatted with the snack girl and the foursome of men who had came around to park near us, now ready to play the green we had just finished. "Did one of you girls just get a birdie on that last hole? We heard your shouts!" We had kind of made a lot of noise when Sandy made her putt. We are apt to do that. We are not the most sophisticated of players. We have way too much fun out there for most serious golfers. The four older men joked and flirted with us a little. They were probably in their late seventies, far older than we were. But some men do welcome women on the golf course, believe it or not. And whenever we find that type of fellow, we try to encourage them.

We make the most of every round out there. We are usually laughing about something. Even when we have a bad shot, we try to make light of it somehow.  We are a very friendly bunch. We have a favorite Starter who we give a hug and a peck on the cheek to every time we see him. We are sometimes known to break out in song or do a soft shoe off the green when we've had a good hole. I remember after seeing Les Mis, I couldn't resist picking up the flag from the hole and waving it like I was standing on the barricade singing  "Do You Hear The People Sing?" My friends joined in on the chorus.

And so this had been a great couple of hours so far. Two of us, Sandy and I, are self proclaimed "fast women of Heritage Bay" because we don't waste any time on the course. You'd think all that fun would slow us down, but I think it makes us move faster. We are supposed to finish nine holes in about 2 hours and 8 minutes, but we are frequently under the 2 hour mark which makes us "fast women". Now that I think of it, maybe that foursome of men behind us knew we were "fast women" and that might be why they were flirting with us. But who knows?

The snack girl told us there was only one tuna left. How disappointing. But, being the magnanimous person that I can sometimes be, I got myself an egg salad and a Diet Coke, saving the last tuna for Sandy. Poor Connie wanted a tuna, too, but she wound up with a Snickers bar instead, which gave her gas, but that is another whole story.

I was driving the cart that day and the small dash area was pretty crowded with all the drinks, little bags of chips and sandwiches we had just picked up. Trying to keep our "fast women" reputation in tact, I took off at full speed, feeling somewhat euphoric after shooting a 51, and having just impressed a group of lovely older men, who were still behind us on the cart path. As I accelerated to maximum speed, Sandy's tuna sandwich started to slide off dash to the left, threatening to fall out the driver's side. I was not going to let that last tuna sandwich get away, nor would it slow us from getting to the next tee.

In one expertly executed motion, I leaned out around the left of the steering wheel placing my hand where I thought the sandwich would land, poised to catch it mid-air as we flew down the path at 5 to 10 miles per hour.

Unfortunately, just as the sandwich landed in my hand, I instinctively hit the brake. However, I didn't just hit the brake, I hit the parking brake, causing the cart to screech to a halt. The cart stopped short but I didn't. I tumbled out of that cart, head first, ass over tea kettle as it were.

It was like they always describe things like this, as if in slow motion, I felt myself falling, falling, falling, all of the 12-14 inches to the ground, landing soundly on my outstretched left arm, tuna sandwich in hand, in a pile of large craggy lava rock, lining the cart path. I don't know how I got myself up, since at my age and shape, getting up off the ground can be a challenge in itself. And, of course, my first reaction was embarrassment. The 4 men we had just flirted with shouted "Are you okay?" to which I shouted back "I'm fine, thanks." waving with the one arm that was working. Connie, the kind friend that she is, was laughing quite hysterically. I suppose I would have laughed, too. In fact if you look back in the archives of this blog, just a few months ago I wrote about how I tend to laugh when people fall, but I mean really, Connie! At least find out if my arm is broken first!

Anyway, I got back in the cart and pulled up out of sight from the snack girl and the 4 old men before stopping again and brushing myself off, inspecting my wounds. It was really quite miraculous. I had a few scraped areas on my forearm, but nothing was even bleeding. However, a large lump was forming right below my elbow. As it grew almost before my eyes I started to wonder if I should quit and go to the ER, but I had such a good game going I decided to continue on.

Sandy came back after dropping Peg off , oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded in her absence. As I handed her the last tuna sandwich on the planet, I showed her my arm, which by now looked as if there was a golf ball growing out of it. She was grateful I had saved her sandwich, and far more sympathetic than Connie who had stopped laughing and was now having quite a bit of gas from her Snickers Bar and Diet Coke lunch. Karma can be a bitch.

I finished the round as my arm grew. I shot a 53 on the back nine. My concentration was off a bit as I was a little flustered. Connie did get a bag of ice for me from another snack girl when we spotted her. Of course we had to tell the whole story to everyone we met. At one point the club pro was driving around the course just checking things out and he offered to get a seat belt installed for me after hearing the story. I am thinking that might be a good idea. I suggested they ask the snack girl to put more tuna sandwiches on the cart.

Day 1 after the fall

By the time we had finished our round and got back to the bag drop area, we had told the story a dozen times. Sandy, one of my biggest blog fans, of course wanted me to write about it in a blog. I wasn't so sure it would make good copy. And I was feeling a little sore at that point.

At the urging of many friends and Facebook Friends (I did post a photo of my arm on FB) the next day I went to the ER and thankfully, nothing was broken.  Today, a week later, the bruising is starting to subside, but it really did get quite colorful. The lump is still there, but only a fraction of the size it had been.

It has given all of my friends a lot of entertainment over the past week. At dinner Tuesday night, one of the couples who joined us wanted to see it. They'd heard about it on Facebook. Then as we were leaving the restaurant, we ran into Joan and her husband. Joan lives in the community near ours and is my friend Sue's sister. Sue is one of the other "Fast Women of Heritage Bay" and of course I had to text her all about. She's back up in PA for the summer and wasn't there for the actual event.  Evidently, Sue had told Joan about it and it was the first thing she asked about when we saw her! It has become a very famous injury here in Paradise. I feel like a celebrity. Funny, if I were going to choose why I became a household name, it wouldn't be because of this particular story.
A couple of days later. Such a lovely color.

But I have learned my lesson: Never Save the Sandwich!

Have a Great Day Everyone! 


My friend Connie being nice to her grandson. Wonder if he knows how she laughed at me?

My friend Sandy, who's sandwich I saved and who will forever be indebted to me for having done so. She is also one of the Fast Women of Heritage Bay

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