When one thinks of dangerous activities, they usually think of things such as bungee jumping, sky diving, hang gliding, etc.
When they think of dangerous sports, they think of football, cage fighting, skiing, etc.
Nobody ever says, “You know what's REALLY dangerous? Bowling!”
Sure, it has the potential to be dangerous when you're constantly swinging around big heavy balls.
But I'm used to that. On a daily basis.
No, nobody ever fears bowling. Especially at a kids birthday party.
Friday was my middle son's 7th birthday party.
After attending a bowling party for his cousin, and his friend from school within the last month, he had decided that he no longer wanted a Chuck-E-Cheese's party, but a bowling party.
No problem. One of the local bowling alleys had recently remodeled under new ownership and now had both bowling and a Chuck-E-Cheese's-type family rec center. It was like a twofer.
AND they were offering birthday packages.
After spending the day helping out with coverage at the Peru VA clinic, I had my coworker drop me off at the bowling place so I wouldn't be late for the party.
Soon, everyone had arrived and the party was underway.
My brother-in-law is an excellent bowler, and I was kind of looking forward to a rematch, after he doubled my score at the last kid party.
Now, there are many theories as to what happened...
Some said that my bootcut jeans I was wearing were caught under my bowling shoe...
Some said that I foot faulted with my plant foot which landed on the oiled lane...
I said I was attacked by invisible brain-eating zombies that wanted to devour my ginormous brain...
Regardless...what should have been like this...
Ended up like this...
When I planted my left foot to release the ball, it slid forward...right out from under me...
Causing me to fall backwards, straight down on top of my right leg and ankle...
landing on top of my heel and causing the ankle to flatten straight out and roll slightly, before I was able to flip it out from under me.
Everyone instantly went from laughing to gasping to asking if I was okay.
I laid there for a few.
The guy running the place walked by and looked down at me laying in the lane and said, “You alright man?” then continued on his way before I had a chance to answer.
I sat up, with my legs straight out in front of me.
My ankle was throbbing. It felt like someone was stabbing a knife into the side of it.
All I could think was, “Man! I can't believe I didn't pick up that spare.”
I slowly drug myself backwards out of the lane and sat there on the floor by the ball return.
I knew something was wrong. It hurt too bad not to be. I could wiggle my toes, but didn't even want to think about putting my weight on it.
A couple people asked if I wanted help up. I said, “No. Just leave me alone for a second.”
My wife eventually brought me a chair to sit in.
I hoisted myself up in the chair and sat waiting for the pain to subside a little.
I felt my leg and ankle with my hands. No obvious broken bones. No swelling. Just tenderness and shooting pain with any movement.
My wife was adamant that I go to the ER. I was determined to wait it out and maybe finish the game.
I soon changed my mind after I started to try and stand.
My brother-in-law offered to take me to the hospital. Mainly because he was “bowling like shit anyway.”
When we got to the hospital, after suffering the various barbs from the ER staff like, “BOWLING?!?!” and “I didn't realize that was a contact sport!” and “Were you trying to kick the ball down the lane?”, I was eventually taken to x-ray.
***To Be Continued***