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Creaky Crackup
Thanks for your Creaky Crackup entries. Our Creaky Crackup Contest winner was Susan Mineo, who submitted the following story:
These tips are what we've found to be useful when traveling. We want your feedback and suggestions!
Where should I begin? When I was eighteen I had my first surgery. It was in the summer of 1975. I had a triple arthrodysis, the first of two. I had a huge cast on and after six months it was finally cut down. Being eighteen, I felt it was time to see a gynocologist. I went to my mom and she made the appointment with the doctor that had delivered me and all my siblings.
When I arrived at the office, not knowing what to expect, the doctor called me into his office. Of course he was retiring, and assigned (more like "pawned me off") to another doctor. You know, a young, new up-and-coming guy. Didn't seem like I had much choice, so I gave the guy a chance.
He spoke to me in his office for a couple of minutes and then led me into the examination room. I'm not sure, but I think I was petrified. He handed me a johnny and explained how to put in on properly. I did so, and climbed onto the exam table.
For those of you who don't know the procedure, usually they start at the top and work their way down. With one foot in the stirrup and the other being in a walking cast very carefully placed, the doctor asked me to scootch down toward him.
"A little more... A little more... Just a little more..." and before I knew it, well, let's just say I fell for him. The kind doctor had forgotten to pull out the extension on the table and the weight of my cast thrust me from the table and into the lap of the good doctor.
Moral of the story: Never attempt a gynocological exam with a cast on!
Our first runner up was Lindsey Nealon:
On December 31, 1999, a group of my friends decided that we'd go to Tampa, Florida to watch Purdue play in the Outback Bowl. The game wasn't until January 1, 2000, so on 12-31 we decided to go to Clearwater Beach. We were in the water for about 5 minutes or so, and had gotten wet to about our knees. I finally decided it was getting cold, so I started walking towards the beach. As I turned around and looked at the guys, they all looked at each other with big grins on their faces. That's when I realized they were gonna try to get me soaking wet. Being smart, I start running as fast as I can (which isn't very fast, since I was in knee deep water) (I used to be an athlete, but ever since I was diagnosed with RA, I've gotten much slower and much clumsier) towards the beach. As I was running, I forgot that the water gets shallower as I get closer to the beach...so I'm just pumping my knees trying not to get wet. All of a sudden I trip in the sand and scream as I hit the sand, face first. As I stood to get up, I looked down, just to see that my entired bathing suit top was about at my bellybutton. As I quickly tried to pull the top back up, I started standing up. I got up just in time to see that the other side of my breast was still completely exposed to the entire beach. I was so embarrassed.
Our second runner up was Donna Marie Holt:
When I was recovering from my osteotomy, I was in a wheelchair for over three months. After the first surgery (the osteotomy), I had fallen (and no, I couldn't get up) and injured my other knee, necesitating a scope to clean up the cartilage. Two bad knees and a propensity for falling led to the wheelchair while I recovered from the surgeries.
Determined not to let this stop me and desperately needing new and larger underwear, my husband dropped me off at our local mall--with the admonition to stay out of trouble. OK, so I didn't listen. When I rolled to the to panty department, I found the chubby sizes displayed WAY in back. No problem, I gracefully manuevered my chair there, made my selections, and discovered that I was stuck. The only way out was to roll backwards---through numerous displays of bras, panties, and things I didn't know existed outside of Frederick's of Hollywood. Roll I did---gathering not steam, but various bits if finery. Bras hung off the wheels, teddies off the brakes, panties off my shoulders...and I still left a path of lace and silk in the aisle. Minutes later I emerged from this silvery trap and met a sales lady with $$$ in her eyes, thinking I was buying all this stuff stuck to my chair. You can imagine her disappointment when I handed her my small pile of big panties---and pointed out the mess I had made in her section. No, she did not thank me for shopping in her store...she was gritting her teeth too hard to say much of anything. I got what I needed that day, though: Big panties and a big laugh.
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