For the first time since my auto accident I'm going swimming. Actually, to say that I will swim is a bit of a Romneyization [ read lie]. I will unwrap my various wrappings designed to protect my now-healing broken bones and will very gingerly make my way down the pool steps into the water, where I will stand in the shallow end and hope that no one bothers me.
This is a sharp contrast to the period following my bone-breaking track and field accident of two or so odd years ago. Following that accident, my entire leg, from hip to toe, was encasted in a hideous preponderance of plaster. The only time I was allowed within falling distance of a pool was the day before any given cast was to be removed and replaced. Even then, the cast-encrusted leg had to be secured in multiple layers of protective plastic.
I haven't yet been allowed into the pool because of my surgery, necessitated by rib #12, which, when fractured in the auto collision, decided to exact its own revenge by attacking nearest entity, which happened to be my right kidney. Yesterday my surgeon said that there's no good reason I can't immerse myself in the pool as long as I don't actually do anything while I'm in there. Today I'm going in.
Respite from the heat isn't nearly the issue that it was two yeas ago when I lived in the Sacramento Valley, which is hotter than hell itself on a day when God is especially pissed off at the Sons of Perdition. Here on California's central coast, temperatures are normally in the mild range. Still, in California, swimming in summer is a right, not a privilege, denied only to penal system inmates and Mormon missionaries. Since I'm neither, I will swim today. The last one in's a Romney!
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