That’s what I was thinking to myself after a good-sized wave caught me off guard.
The wave had picked me up and deposited me firmly on my left foot. The knee went left, the rest of me went right. As I gathered my thoughts (like, “Did I just get Wes Welkered?“), the next wave did the same thing. And this time, my left kneecap popped. I reached down and felt it to the left of where it should be. Not sure what to do, I pushed it back into place. Where it stayed.
Quite pleased with that impromptu procedure, I managed to work my way back to shore, not quite knowing if I would be able to walk out or have to drag myself out and lie there like a beached whale.
I walked out. And I walked back to the place we were staying. And after briefly explaining to my wife and the couple we were with exactly what happened, I kept walking. Right to the bar at the pool.
Tuesday morning, I’ll keep walking. Into the office of my orthopedic surgeon. I feel pretty good. But just in case, I’m full of Advil and have a package of frozen green beans on my knee.
Will I take the plunge again? Well…boys will be boys.
UPDATE: It doesn’t look like surgery is needed. But I am wearing a brace the size of a bumper on a ’53 Buick for the time being.