Breakfast Club - Summer Update II
“I’d rather be playing hockey.”
I have a camisole that has I’d rather be playing hockey emblazoned across the front. It garnered some questions in Cancun back in March. “What? You’d really rather be playing hockey? More than being here on the beach drinking pina coladas?” Well, yes, actually, it would have been nice to be able to hit the ice at least once that week. Don’t get me wrong; the cabana boy was very dutiful in making sure the pina coladas were always there and always refreshing. I sunned my buns to a nice golden tan. I went swimming and shopping and sightseeing, climbed the Kukulkan pyramid at the Mayan ruins of Chi’ch’en Itza (one of the new ancient wonders of the world), and enjoyed myself enough to have occasionally lost track of whether it was Tuesday or Thursday. But, yes, I did miss being able to play, even for that one week (missed skating three sheets of ice, if you are counting).
So imagine my dismay to wake up on Monday morning with what seemed like insect bites on my hand. And that scrape on my leg from the strange little tree/shrub with the sticky sap that I pulled out from my yard last Wednesday. Well doggone if that seemingly stable scrape was now starting to well up. No big deal. I packed for my two-day business trip with a little Benadryl for the bites and some ointment and loose gauze for the leg, knowing that I’d be back late on Tuesday in plenty of time to get up and skate Wednesday morning for the first session of Summer Breakfast Club. Wouldn’t you know though my body had a different plan? Poison sumac often does not cause the full allergic reaction for several days. Lucky for me, Newark Airport has an onsite medical clinic complete with a full pharmacy (terminal C, near gate 90). The TSA security guard (Karla, you’re a guardian angel besides being a guardian of homeland security) took one look at me Tuesday evening, and told me to go immediately to the clinic. By the time the physician on duty prescribed me an Epipen (in case I went into anaphylactic shock on the plane), cortisone pills and a strong antibiotic, both hands and arms were covered in giant welts, my face was swollen to the point of blocking the vision in one eye and my leg was now an open wound.
So, yes, you’re darn straight to think that I would have definitely preferred to be playing hockey Wednesday morning. Instead of being where I am now, bed-ridden with hands so swollen that I can’t hold a spoon much less a hockey stick, and a face straight out of that Outer Limits episode (or was it Twilight Zone?) where the pretty girl was considered deformed and grotesque by the creatures that inhabited her reality.
See you on the ice next week, God willing, and in the meantime, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal!
I have a camisole that has I’d rather be playing hockey emblazoned across the front. It garnered some questions in Cancun back in March. “What? You’d really rather be playing hockey? More than being here on the beach drinking pina coladas?” Well, yes, actually, it would have been nice to be able to hit the ice at least once that week. Don’t get me wrong; the cabana boy was very dutiful in making sure the pina coladas were always there and always refreshing. I sunned my buns to a nice golden tan. I went swimming and shopping and sightseeing, climbed the Kukulkan pyramid at the Mayan ruins of Chi’ch’en Itza (one of the new ancient wonders of the world), and enjoyed myself enough to have occasionally lost track of whether it was Tuesday or Thursday. But, yes, I did miss being able to play, even for that one week (missed skating three sheets of ice, if you are counting).
So imagine my dismay to wake up on Monday morning with what seemed like insect bites on my hand. And that scrape on my leg from the strange little tree/shrub with the sticky sap that I pulled out from my yard last Wednesday. Well doggone if that seemingly stable scrape was now starting to well up. No big deal. I packed for my two-day business trip with a little Benadryl for the bites and some ointment and loose gauze for the leg, knowing that I’d be back late on Tuesday in plenty of time to get up and skate Wednesday morning for the first session of Summer Breakfast Club. Wouldn’t you know though my body had a different plan? Poison sumac often does not cause the full allergic reaction for several days. Lucky for me, Newark Airport has an onsite medical clinic complete with a full pharmacy (terminal C, near gate 90). The TSA security guard (Karla, you’re a guardian angel besides being a guardian of homeland security) took one look at me Tuesday evening, and told me to go immediately to the clinic. By the time the physician on duty prescribed me an Epipen (in case I went into anaphylactic shock on the plane), cortisone pills and a strong antibiotic, both hands and arms were covered in giant welts, my face was swollen to the point of blocking the vision in one eye and my leg was now an open wound.
So, yes, you’re darn straight to think that I would have definitely preferred to be playing hockey Wednesday morning. Instead of being where I am now, bed-ridden with hands so swollen that I can’t hold a spoon much less a hockey stick, and a face straight out of that Outer Limits episode (or was it Twilight Zone?) where the pretty girl was considered deformed and grotesque by the creatures that inhabited her reality.
See you on the ice next week, God willing, and in the meantime, keep your head up and your eyes on the goal!
posted by Suburban Hockey @ 1:03 PM
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