I stepped onto the front stoop first thing this morning to get a feel for the
weather. Figured we’d walk the neighborhood and needed to factor the
temperature into our preparations. I wasn’t wearing shoes.
Opened the screen door and went to step back inside (with Is. in my arms).
And then I let the screen door shut. Just the other day I switched out the
storm door for its spring weather counterpart, the screen. Gone with the
heavier version of the door was its maximum use of the pressure tube that
regulates the door’s rate of closure. The lighter door closes more quickly,
I mean. In an effort to keep it from slamming into my back and, perhaps,
messing up the screen material, I kicked back my right foot, thinking my heel
would stall the impact of the door long enough for the two of us to pass inside before the
door closed. This is a dance step I’ve executed a thousand times.
Only today the corner of the door’s aluminum frame featured a sharp
barb–sharp like the sword of Zorro! Here is a picture of it:
We didn’t get to go on the walk. The barb did what it
looks like it was designed to do, slicing superficially along a couple of inches
of my lower leg before jamming all the way into my heel. A puncture wound.
I was stabbed in the foot by an aluminum screen door (still angry because I
broke one of the cheap clamps that holds the screen in place when I changed it
the other day?). We rode to the ER where, after two-and-a-half hours, they put
me back together again. This time it was Mike, not
did the stitching. And fortunately, in this summery weather, it’s pleasant
enough to prop up the foot and let the Neosporin and Cephalexin do their work on
the wound, which, I’ve been promised, will be better than new in one week.