I had a minor surgery last week, and the doctor told me to keep my leg up. I kind of liked that. It gave me an official, watertight excuse to do nothing.
So I did.
Nothing.
It was awesome. I laid on the sofa, watched TV, and even had my food delivered to me. I didn’t even have to take a shower, at least not for the first couple of days (fear of infection). My entire house had become a man cave.
But after a while, the TV got boring, and there was nothing new on the internet. Reclining on the sofa with my leg up on a pillow began to get uncomfortable. The outside began calling me (not to mention the lawn that needed a mow). My family went bike riding and all I could do was watch them go. Doing nothing was turning out to be less than it was cracked up to be.
Then a buddy (retired Warrant Officer) stopped by with donuts, coffee and worms. I had a decision to make. Follow a strict regimen of ice and elevation, or go fishing with a good buddy.
The nurse told me to stay off the leg for a couple of days. She had given me pain killers to last at least a week. She told me stories of people who had tried to do too much too early.
But my buddy had worms! And there is a waterway right behind my house with fish in it. It was a dilemma. But if two Sailors put their heads together, there is usually a solution.
So I fished from a chair with my leg resting on a log.
Technically, I followed the doctors orders, and no one was worse off for the experience.
Except maybe the fish.
