THE INFIRMARY

Two years ago Kayla sprained her ankle during track practice; she ended up on crutches.

The injury itself was not as painful as the nurse's orders, however.

"No flip flops!" she told the heartbroken patient.

Because Paul wasn't with me at the doctor's office for that injury, I said we'd take some crutches from them and they could bill us.

Poor Kayla. If her father had been with us that day, he would have carved two tree branches into "Y" shapes and made her hobble around like an injured character from Gunsmoke.

A couple weeks ago, Kayla injured her foot while sliding into home during a softball game. And, no, she wasn't safe. After another visit to the clinic and an x-ray, she was ordered to be on crutches for at least four days.

The crutches I had bought two years ago, however, were too short for her.

"Walgreen's has crutches. I checked," I told Paul.

"I'm not buying a new set of crutches for her to use for four days," he replied, clutching his wallet to his chest, as he dug a new hole in which to bury it.

"Honey, she's a freshman. There WILL be more injuries. I promise you we'll get our money's worth out of them if we buy new crutches," I reasoned. But he was not to be swayed.

After one day on crutches which were too short for her, however, Kayla gained the sympathy of her father, who agreed to get her a pair that fit.

He marched into the school office and asked the secretary if they keep crutches on hand for sports injuries.

Sure enough, the trainer had some crutches.

Sure enough, Paul was able to find a way to get our daughter free medical equipment, which is being stored in our dining room.


I like to call this decorating style "orthopedic chic."


When we were explaining the free crutches to a friend of ours, he said "Oh you should have come to me. We have crutches of all sizes," as his hand climbed an imaginary staircase to illustrate the options we would have.

Between him and our friends who bring antibiotics back from Mexico, we might never have to see a doctor again.