On Blisters

So, I don't want to turn this into a best blister ever post - but this story is one that some may have never heard and I wish that I could forget.

When I was a young man, I recognized that my wife is a considerably better athlete than me. This is hard on a young man's pride - particularly one that thinks of himself as athletically adept. [As an older man, I have realized that the best way to look more athletic standing next to my wife - is to make sure that she is about six to nine months pregnant all of the time. Hence, the five kids.] So in order to combat this problem, I wanted to consistently prove that I was athletic and willing to participate. Go for a walk. No problem. Through bear infested wilderness where the slower one gets eaten. Probably invite my sister Mary - but no problem. Go swimming. No problem. Go swimming where there are sharks in the water. Probably invite my father who swims a bit like a beached walrus - but no problem.

However, one early fall day - my girlfriend at the time (my wife now) asked if I wanted to go rollerblading. I asked if there was any risk of death by wild animal. She said, "probably not - but you could fall into the creek." I said, "No problem." Let's do it.

If you have seen Chuck, my wife at age 20 was the equivalent of "Captain Awesome." She was capable of any physical feat that I could possibly mention. I think 10 years of being married to a softee like myself has probably withered away some of those darn near bionic skills - but not all of them. She can still do one handed - whole body stands.

Anyway, we went to the Keystone trail at 72nd and Pacific. Flat and basically straight. And we started rollerblading. I had borrowed a pair from one of my brothers - probably Mike. I was wearing the appropriate gear - helmet, pads on my knees and probably on my wrists too - but I don't remember for sure on my hands. Anyway, we started to blade. And, I was trying to keep up with Cheryl - in attempt to protect my already battered pride. I might mention that at this point - Cheryl probably went rollerblading two or three times a week and this was my first time.

So, on my virgin run, we were cruising. And we came to a little dip where you cross under a street. I think it was 72nd Street. We had only gone a couple of blocks - maybe half a mile. We started to go down this little run and my leg started to shake. [Important note: when a sophomore in high school, I had a tremendously fat person roll onto my ankle doing a roll block. I was playing defensive tackle. Throughout the rest of high school, and to this day, I have tremendously weak ankles.] Anyway, my leg started to shake. Then it started to tremble - and pretty soon it was downright convulsive.

Well, rather than suffer the ignominity of driving right off the trail into the Papio creek. I sat down. That's right I sat down - not on my various padded areas - but on my right butt cheek. Did I mention that the trail is concrete.

Anywho, the resulting raspberry was truly epic. It may not be exactly a blister - but it was in the blister family. This thing was oozing puss for approximately 6 months - not an exaggeration. I am lucky that I did not die from gangrene (particularly after watching Man v. Wild where a cut can mean death in the jungle in mere hours).

To give you an idea of the size of this - I still have a scar on my leg/butt that is approximately the size of the bottom of a regular sized coffee mug. At its most disgusting (about two days after the accident - I had a puss delivering monster that extended from about two inches above the back of my knee to mid-way up my butt on the right side. Truly awful. Worst of all - I could not watch the ooze. I just had to change the pads and smell it. Yuck.