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Thursday, June 18, 2015

The age of getting your ass kicked

 No fluff on this post today.  This has been kind of a crappy week overall.  Yesterday, during the storm grab the door to get in out of the rain when there's a flash.  Lightning close by.  I get a shock from the handle that nearly knocks me on my ass.  Kay, that's new.  Wiring in the RV all OK.  Air or ground one of the two and thankfully it didn't hit closer.  But well, that's just not enough for the Karma gods.  Took a big ass tumble at the local HEB today.  Ambulance chaser's dream case.  No signs, no indication of anything wrong.  Just minding my own business and whistling.  I actually think I was whistling while carrying a bottle of my favorite alcoholic beverage in one hand and the other, my new favorite non alcoholic beverage,  A twelve pack of it anyhow.   Had not had an ounce to drink and nary an Ibuprofen tablet in my system.  Life's immediate problems seemed to be working themselves out and I was heading to the checkout with a big smile on my face left, right, left right fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucckkkkkk BAM.   Left one I think, hit a patch of butter.  Maybe it wasn't butter.  Sure felt as slick as butter and for the third time in the last ten years got my ass kicked.  At least when I was younger I could select who was going to kick or not kick my ass.

Anyway I did the magnificent split thing which is agonizing.  Looks good with Cheerleaders but not old guys. Threw the stuff I was carrying straight up in the air and fortunately I didn't kill anybody when it came down, except it shattered about 18 inches from my leg and fired off a number of shards that had to be plucked out.  I have no defense for this kind of fall. It is my kryptonite. If there was an army of me's all the enemy would have to do is lure me's into a grocery store or some other building(Twinkies probably do it) with a hard floor, douse it with little spots of grease and every me would walk in,  make the same kind of fuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkk sound followed by a thud.  Then just walk around and coup d' a tat or grace thing and the war would be won.

What followed this time was quite hilarious. When lying there covered in vino, the first thought in my head past the pain was "hope I don't get pulled over".  The second stupid thing was "damn I'm tired of getting my ass kicked when it isn't my fault and there isn't anybody that you can at least punch in the nose". OK,  I'll kind of clear this up.  The first time this happened was at the local  Y some years back.  Same kind of fall, type I have no defense to. In that instance there was no one to give me a hand up.  So after nearly ten minutes or so when I started to gingerly move stuff with the certainty that I was not paralyzing myself, I got up.  Some dilweed walks in and steps over me without a thought.  While I'm thinking that wasn't very nice.  Now I'm not the type who gets dollar signs in their eyes when something happens.  So I limp outta there and go home.  I'm so torqued the next day I call the director of the place.  Not once but three times because he's busy and doesn't call me back.   This one was easy.  The kid mopped the floor and didn't put the signs out.  He apologizes profusely, so he can say when he.s served the lawsuit that he apologized profusely.   But of course I didn't.  Sue that is. The second time was after being rear ended (Not funny El) by an old guy of eighty something going about thirty when he was supposed to be stopped.  KaWHAM  in all caps.   Should we have whiplash, neck injuries?  Yes but we are fortunate and don't  Did we get knocked back into third grade like when trying to talk and all you do is mumble  Yep that' was more like it.  Lisa is more worried about the condition of the old guy than the damage to our truck.  Was he OK? Did he pass out?  Have a heart attack?  Nope.  His explanation is that " It turned yellow but" I thought you folks were gonna run through it and I thought I could sneak with you" or asshole words to that effect.  Who expects somebody to stop at a red light, right?  That began a week long process of fighting the insurance companies.  Yup two of em.  Our's wanted 500 bucks (deductible) and his wasn't going to pay even though he admitted to the citing officer it was his fault until there was a court decision.  Now this little diddy happened hundreds of miles from home.  Literally, it took 90 minutes of arguing to just get a motel paid for, two nights.  Had we not convinced the other driver to call his insurance and own up , we'd be screwed.  Guy's in the auto body joint told us one guy was camped in the mountains waiting for his vehicle to get fixed.  Never heard what happened to him.  Promises were made to compensate for food, gas and motel but the only compensation ever received was the car was fixed and they paid two nights in a CHEAP motel  Seriously, the agent told me if she got billed for anything more than sixty bucks it wasn't going to get paid.

Back to today.  I don't hit my head but I'm not moving.  The mental checklist is going full bore.  Sixty one last month, Ya'll ain't no spring chicken. I'm in pain damn it.  Covered head to toe with, well better'n I normally get wine.  Some lady starts hollering that there is an accident.  Folks show up and damn if she doesn't pipe up.  "I watched him fall and I also saw something on the floor that he slipped on".  Bless her. Managers go to the area that is now covered in wine squeaking their shoe's and looking at me dubiously.  Yeah, like I stuck the little shards of glass in my leg that were now bleeding on purpose.  I mentally note my wrist is sprained and my back hurts like hell, as my ass, but hope nothing else is messed up along with the little bleeding cuts.   Somebody grabs a chair and  Iget up and slump on it.  Manager looks me in the eye "Do you want an ambulance"?  Right.  Go to the ER, walk out with pain pills, a follow up appt and then a bill for upwards of ten grand.  Such is the world today.  Nothing is going to be paid up front. Fruit of the stories of so many others.  So after my mental check that I'll be able to walk out anyway, I says no.  I request an incident report and I envision the poring over of security camera footage that is going to happen.  The are going to be disappointed as what they will see is a young guy past his prime going down pretty damn hard. Who obviously slipped on something, probably butter.  But one lady, older than me starts picking shards, daubing ointment and putting band aids on.  About four total.  She gets down on a knee, grunting like I would.  Efficient.  She reminds me of my Lisa because that's what she would do.  I ask her couldn't she find somebody younger joking because she's obviously a cashier supervisor or something.  She tells me she's used to it bringing her husband back from death's door a couple of times.  Whatever that story is, I'll never know

After I recover a bit I'm ready to go.  They grab me another bottle of wine ask me again if I want medical treatment.  I turn it down so they can fill in the checklist that the lawyer's tell em to do.  I limp anyway, but now I'm really, no bones about it, limping like I really hurt, because I do.  The cashier supervisor lady does what she personally can, gets me to the front of the line and gets a youngster to carry my stuff.  I move past folks covered head to toe like I'm an old Wino.  Well, damn it maybe I am but if I'm going to smell disgusting I want it to be of my own accord.   Do I want medical treatment?  Hell yes.  Is it their damn fault? No doubt in my mind.  Something had been cleaned up halfway was my guess.  Just a quick wipe.  Didn't seem to be a spill.  Could somebody say "Hey, we know you don't think you need an ambulance, why don't you  go down to the local urgent care.  Maybe wrap that wrist. Get some antibiotics for those glass cuts.  Maybe even some rub for your back if it's not too bad. Hell's bells maybe even one o those pain pills.  Here, we got your groceries.  It's on us.  Oh! don't forget this coupon for  fifty bucks off your next purchase."Those things would be the right thing to do.

That didn't happen because that's not their world.  Generations of faker's and, well, folks who have really been hurt have given these corporations all the practice they need.  Everybody has an immediate responsibility to accept a dramatic role.  Get that Lady's name who piped up what she witnessed happening. Lay back, let the paramedics do their job.  A circus of cops and paramedics, bystanders what have you.  Submit to the neck brace and hours waiting to be examined at the ER .  "Does this hurt? Does that hurt?'  Filling out paperwork. And the Company? admit to nothing.  Accept no responsibility.  Checklists.  If nothing happens in the next ten or fifteen days then the security footage will be automatically wiped.  Then no evidence.  They're scott free.   I've been through this before.  Ten years ago after getting stabbed by a clandestine tattoo gun.  And we all know former inmates all have Autoclave's right?  CDC says the odds are probably with me I won't have hep or Aids.  No guarantees though.  I can submit to the chemical regimen that will likely insure I won't have it, but my hair will probably fall out and, you know, other side effects, the sexual kind.
So I skipped it then and I'll probably skip it now.  No doubt about it I'm hurtin. But if something is serious, well, I'll deal with it knowing that it will be an upward battle.  I'll skip it because of my unnatural dislike of drama and, I just don't want to sue anybody unless I have to.  But somebody else would probably be at the ER right now.  Except, like me,  I wonder how many would just be grateful, like I was, when a sixty five year old grandma takes the time to help the best she could.  Were I so inclined, I suspect the whole matter would cost several times the salary of the guys just making sure the checklist is filled out.  Yep, I'm sure that grandma is worth a whole lot more than what they are making right now.  






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