The Charlie Bravo Story


We don’t take trips, trips take us‐ John Steinbeck
Last night, we were sleeping through a heavy downpour somewhere in the panhandle of Texas when I felt a very unwelcome but familiar twinge in my knee. Yep, it was THAT knee, the knee that notifies me with a slight tingle that a full week of inactivity is on the menu.
By the time the skies began to lighten, the tingle had became a full-blown tangle, to the extent that I was considering just tucking my tail and heading back to the Casa. But what if we pressed on just a bit further? I did a bit of Google surfing and found a rural walk-in clinic approximately two hours to the west so we started crippling that way, arriving just as they opened.
I was informed that, while they did have lidocaine and prednisone on the premises, the nurse practioner had limited experience injecting knees; I told her that I didn’t care if she stood back and threw hatchets at it as long as some steroid somehow got into the joint.
As we were discussing the options, I could feel the room behind me filling up. And I do mean filling up, as I turned around to find a whole gaggle of obviously fertile young ladies crowding into the room. And how did I know that they were fertile? Because I was the only person in the room that could identify as very non-pregnant; what I thought was just a small rural clinic was a matriarchal hot spot.
It reminded me of the one Lamaze class that JoAnn was able to drag me when Zach was a spud in the oven, where I heard things that night that I was not prepared for. One such term was the word “fundus”, something having to do with the uterus; I wish I could tell you more, but my ears were too busy clamping shut. A phrase popped into my head at the time, a thought that hit me as so funny at the time that I was strangling on my own spit in an effort to not bust out laughing; Mom was not pleased, but would have been even more miffed had she known what I was thinking.
So, there I was today, the only me in a whole room of them, and the phrase popped into my head again, and the effect was the same. And the infantile phrase that only someone with a room temperature IQ would find hilarious in such a situation?
But as I didn’t feel the need to share such jocularity at the time, I went on back and got my knee shot up, along with a supply of indomethacin, a wonder drug as far as I’m concerned. The pain has improved to the point that I have decided to keep pushing west, although I did cheat a bit tonight and got a motel room to give the knee a few more hours to heal a bit more before heading out again in the morning. The Duff has eaten hearty and is crashed hard on the bed; as it wasn’t his knee that was ailing, I have no idea what he’s so tired about…
Tomorrow, the Rockies or the Rio Grande, according to where the rain is at; it’s always a party!

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