“Look what I got with my birthday money!” Mike said as he ripped open the cardboard box Amazon had just delivered.
“A skateboard?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “A long board. I’m going to let the dogs pull me on it because they need to run and they never can because we can’t walk fast enough.”
“Should we discuss the danger and potential problems I see with this?”
“You can, but I’m still doing it.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. “In that case, have a blast.”
“Oh no,” I said a few days later as I held the door open so he could limp inside, long board in one hand, leashes of panting dogs in the other hand. “What happened?”
“Arrow stopped right in front of me, and I think I sprained my ankle.” Mike spent the rest of the evening giving Arrow a nasty scowl and refusing my medical suggestions.
“I’ll be right back,” Mike said the next morning. “I’m going to the doctor to have my ankle checked.”
“What?” I asked, shocked.
“They have an opening right now, so I’m just going to go.”
“Wait!” I called. “I’ll drive you!”
“On a level of one to ten,” the doctor asked, “how much does it hurt?”
“One is the lowest,” the doctor explained.
“Yeah,” Mike said. “It doesn’t really hurt.”
“What about when you walk on it?”
“Probably a three.”
“It really doesn’t hurt much?”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go look at your x-ray and be back.”
“You are kind of embarrassing to come to the doctor with,” I told Mike after the doctor left the room.
“Because you aren’t hurting, and you keep saying you’re sure it is fine. She probably wonders why you’re even here. Even I am kind of wondering why we are here after all that you just said.”
“You are broken!” the doctor said suddenly swinging open the door. “Your ankle is broken!”
“Are you sure?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Is it just a little broken?” he asked.
“No! It is very broken. It’s one of the worst breaks I’ve seen. I can’t believe you said your pain was a one. Did you take pain medication?”
“Just two Advil before I went to sleep last night.”
“And you’ve been walking on it?”
“I’ve been trying to.”
“Don’t take one more step on it,” she ordered. “I’m getting you crutches, and you’re going to have to have surgery.”
“It’s that broken?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” she nodded. “It is very broken.” She left the room shaking her head.
A nurse with a tray of Ace bandages began wrapping Mike’s foot and leg tight to help the swelling go down and then strapped him into a clunky boot.
“Do you have any questions,” the nurse asked, handing Mike a pair of crutches.
“How long will it be before I can skateboard again?”
I left the room shaking my head.