Sportsman and Explorer

As a result of breaking a bone in my right foot the other day, I now wear a "soft cast." True, it's softer than a plaster cast, but it bears an uncomfortable resemblance to the steel boot that armored knights used to wear. A formidable array of leather, plastic, and Velcro straps, it both supports my foot, holding it together so to speak, and protects it from gunfire. Since my doctor doubted that my upper body strength would permit me to use crutches, I'm forced to minimize the pressure on my right foot by using a walker and pressing down on it with my arms when I move that foot.

Among the consequences of my injury is that I now have to explain it. When people first see me hobbling around, they look properly shocked. This is satisfying. But then they ask me what happened. What should I tell them? My ever-inventive niece suggested that I attribute my injury to a yachting accident, but if I didn't like that explanation, to kickboxing.

I don't know which of these is more implausible, but the yachting accident appeals to me. That's because I've long entertained a fantasy of sailing around the world in a large yacht and inviting my friends to join me on various legs of my journey. Would you care to sail with me from Papeete to Apia? No? Then what about Auckland to Sydney? Don't worry, I won't ask you to fasten ropes and swab the deck. A professional captain and crew will do all the work. The vessel will contain a respectable bar, wine cellar, and library, and of course the chef will provide sumptuous meals. (Remember, this is a fantasy.) Ah, here I am reclining on a chaise longue, sipping a rum and tonic while watching a glorious sunset. Are you sure you won't come along? But wait, the wind has come up. The captain suggests we go below. A sudden storm, unforeseen by the yacht's sophisticated electronic equipment, causes violent pitching and yawing. On the way down to my stateroom, I stumble. I fall. I break my foot. Wouldn't that be a terrific explanation? The trouble is that nobody would believe it. So when asked how I broke my foot, I shamefacedly admit that I haven't the foggiest idea. This is one of the disadvantages of my current position.

Another is the damage it's caused to my secret persona. Like Clark Kent, I have a hidden identity. Years ago, before Abercrombie and Fitch focused on the youth market, it sold me two pairs of chino pants which I planned to wear on my voyage around the world by surface transportation. A placard near the pants proclaimed that they were "the choice of sportsmen and explorers for 75 years." So as I walked along the main drag of Suva, and as I gazed at the Mongolian steppes from the window of a third-class compartment on the Trans-Siberian railroad, I would think of myself as a sportsman and explorer, one of the adventurous men who wore pants just like mine. But to be told that my upper body strength is insufficient for crutches is a cruel blow to this notion of myself.

Still another disadvantage is my feeling guilty about my wife's having to assume those of my household tasks that require my moving around, such as salad preparation, bed making, dish and laundry washing, and table setting. When I suggested to her that she is now paying me back for the time last year that I took on the menu planning, food shopping, and cooking, while she recovered from a hip replacement, she smiled. She asked me if I had forgotten my bouts of bronchitis and pneumonia, which for almost 50 years have put me out of commission, periods when she's had to nurse me and assume my domestic duties. To that list of illnesses she could have added periods of recuperation from my numerous operations ("you're a surgeon's dream," one doctor told me), but she's a kindly woman and stopped short of that. Some would consider temporary relief from such jobs as an advantage, but perhaps they've forgotten that I'm Jewish and thus prone to self-doubt and guilt.

But in the scheme of things, these difficulties are minor and best of all temporary. I can look forward to resuming in a month or two my career as a sportsman and explorer. After all, what does that doctor know?