> SOUTHERN INDIANA — “The reason the pro tells you to keep your head down is so you can’t see him laughing”

—  Phyllis Diller.

It’s the end of summer. That’s traditionally what we referred to as Labor Day. Of course that was more appropriate before school started in the middle of summer. For me this could well have been titled the summer of discontent.

I was unemployed at the beginning of the summer. For many the recession is a news story and for me for six months it was a lifestyle. That ended July 19. However, the real story of my summer vacation was a strange odyssey — much of it spent in a horizontal position. It all started out with an ill-fated decision to play golf after an hour-and-a-half morning workout.

I suffered an injury on the golf course. I might be the only person you ever hear of that spent a month in bed and two and a half months in pain due to a putting injury. That’s right, I suffered a putting injury. I know. I wouldn’t have believed it either had it not happened to me.

I was on the second hole and on the green. I leaned over about eight inches to putt. The next thing I knew I was on the ground in pain. I have played literally almost every sport you can name and engaged in numerous dangerous activities over the years with nary a scratch and the most serious medical condition I have ever endured was from putting a golf ball about 15 feet. Oh, for golfers the most important part of the story was I pulled the putt to the left.

Apparently it was a muscle spasm, a moving lower back disc or simply the golfing gods getting even with me for cursing them over the years blaming them for all of my lousy golf shots. It was the worst chronic pain I have ever endured. With a mouthful of ibuprofen, a muscle relaxer and a pain pill, the pain was close to bearable. I spent most of the summer dragging a stiff leg and knee around like a bad impression of Festus on Gunsmoke (kids, ask your grandpa). I even passed a job interview faking a healthy walk while overmedicated. Who was it that said a misspent youth would never come in handy?

Kim even became really worried about me as I slept my time away and was unusually quiet during the waking hours, which only proves for her the old axiom, “Be careful what you wish for as it just might come true.” I always knew she really enjoyed my constant babbling about things for which I had no real base of knowledge and for which she had no interest. Anyway, we’re both happy again, I am back to opining and philosophizing and she is dreaming about the good old days of this summer gone past.

She was a real trooper when I couldn’t move without pain. However, she drew the line when I asked for a bedpan. The sight of a grown man half crawling down the hallway into a bathroom was pretty pathetic and those moans and groans pouring out from under the door were not what one might think. When urinating upright is so painful it gives one plenty of time to ponder about the quality of life versus the remaining quantity.

The reality check came during that in between stage when she began to actually start thinking I was abusing her Florence Nightingale treatment. In my prescription-induced stupor I might have even made the mistake that no father should ever make, you know, comparing anything men will ever feel or experience during our existence on earth to birthing a baby.

I didn’t realize how long the recuperation had actually been going on until my son Cameron commented that my decrepit condition might actually be permanent.

It has been about three weeks since I have been without discomfort. I am off all medication. I can pee upright pain free. Kim absolutely refuses to get me or bring me anything for any reason — indicating that much like my insurance limit I might have used up my lifetime maximum of wife pity.

For anyone who experienced me in person during this time, thanks for your concern. I am not as good as new, but then, I am at the point in life where I will never be again. I am still a bit gun shy but during the past two weeks I have resumed my weight workout. Perhaps in the coming weeks I will resume some sort of aerobic activity as well. The very best thing about all of my down time was that I only gained about eight pounds.

Yes, it was a summer to remember for me and one to forget for Kim. You know what they say, “Behind every good man is a woman . . . reminding him of how much she will be owed once he can stand upright again.” She even quit buying that one about bending over to scrub the toilet could be hazardous to my health. In fact, she might be the only thing left that could be hazardous to my health. The other day she really got fed up with me and handed me a putter. That’s about par for her.

Lindon Dodd is an Otisco resident who is a freelance writer and can be reached at lindon.dodd@hotmail.com