Crutching: The sport of champions

I like to think of my life as a movie. Or maybe a very long television show.  I already have the soundtrack started.  Before recent developments, I would have classified my life as a comedy or maybe even one of those cheesy teen-girl movies that I love too much. 

Matt Costa's 'Yellow Taxi' will be my theme song

Recently, my life has turned into ESPN/America’s Funniest Home Videos.  Each sport always has its own jargon and I have developed the language of the sport of “Crutching”.  This is a sport that requires exceptional back strength, adequate arm strength, sufficient abdominal strength and superior balance.

A Flash:  Crutcher’s life flashes before their eyes.  Could be the cause of a Chiquita, a Speedy, or a number of other moves. ‘The chipper’ is frequently confused with or executed at the same moment as a flash.

Chiquita: Named after everyone’s favorite banana lady, is the unfortunate incident of the slip of one crutch.

Speedy: When sufficient speed is used while crutching or freestylin’.  A move normally employed whilst catching busses.

The Chipper:  The feeling of intense fear of chipping a tooth while hopping up stairs.

The Legolas Crawl: The technique most frequently used to climb stairs on rainy days.  The crutches are lodged in between the backpack and the person for easy access while crawling on hands and knees up the stairs.

The 5’3” Sprawl: Crutcher goes from upright to sprawled in less than 2 seconds.  The number is crutcher-specific and dependant on height. 

Freestylin’:  The act of hopping without the tools of the trade. Most 5’3” Sprawls are performed while freestylin’.

Now that we’re on the same page…

Today my lesson was a road trip around the USA.  We made ‘stops’ in Miami, New York, and California.  Somewhere between New York and California things went downhill fast.  Actually there was no hill.

While speedy freestylin’ with exceptional gracefulness, Keri Ann Moore experienced a flash which resulted in a 5’3” Sprawl.  The crowd, being her class of 16 year olds, especially enjoyed the finale.  Executed with extraordinary precision and poise she remained on the floor the rest of class.  Floor: 1. Keri Ann: 0.

They say bad luck comes in 3's

The sun is finally peeking through the clouds. I have officially had my cast on for 3 weeks and, if healing went as planned, I should only have another 3 weeks to go.
At the beginning of my time in Nantes, I remember writing a letter to friend. In the letter, I noted that one rarely spots wheelchairs roaming the streets of Nantes. I have figured out why. According to a recent article, Nantes was deemed the most handicap-friendly city in France*. This is sad.

Curbs in Nantes are 4” instead of the usual 6.

Maybe if wheelchairs could climb stairs, off-road, and fly then they would be practical in France. I’ve had some awesome adventures in my chair. So far Jennifer, Sophie, Rhys, and Krista have pushed me. I think the common consensus is that it is just easier to use crutches. On my first outing, the wheel got stuck in the tram track. I hopped out of the chair (much to the confusion of the 2 men helping us) and one proceeded to pull the armrest from the chair while the other successfully freed the chair from the track just in time for the oncoming tram to pass.

If I were a stick figure, I too would abandon this chair.  Luckily my chair locks up when I go too fast.

After the tram disaster, and gracefully falling up the stairs to Candace’s apartment, I decided the next night I would stick with the crutches. It just so happened that the next night was my rugby team’s first home game. One of the girls from my team came and picked me up. While watching the team warm-up and living through Gargoyle: Part 2, I gave in to my urge to recount my adventurous day to Krista. My phone was nowhere to be found. I checked the locker room. I checked my backpack. I checked the car. Nowhere.

Photographer: 0            Keri Ann: 1
 I successfully ruined this photo by holding up ¾ of the team behind me while hobbling onto the field. 

It was touch and go there for a while, but I did live through another week of school.  I bought a new phone.  I was ready for the weekend.  I had not seen Rhys since Misty’s party, so we decided to meet for coffee on Friday.  Krista was in town and was nice enough to agree to push me.  I don’t think she will be making that mistake again anytime soon.

Krista & I would fit right in

 We had all finished our Chocolat Viennoises and decided to switch cafes.  They sit at, and I roll up to, the table.  We begin to order.  I decided that it would be a good idea to check the cash flow, but my wallet is nowhere to be found.  I check to my right, to my left, under me, on my lap. Nothing… In all the excitement of switching cafes I must have left it in the other one.  Sarya and Rhys go and check.  Nada.

Broken leg, lost phone, lost wallet… I was afraid to ask the obvious question.  I still am.

I believe all things happen for a reason.  I don’t know why bad things always happen at the same time, but they do.  Maybe I’ve finally passed the test, learned my lesson, turned the corner.

I was recently informed that my cell phone was found in my friend’s car.  A gentleman from Paris named Vincent Kervella found my wallet, found me on Facebook, and returned my wallet to me.  Things are most definitely looking up.  With only three more days of work before the two week vacation, the sun seems to shine brighter each day. 

* http://www.francesoir.fr/actualite/societe/handicap-nantes-ville-plus-accessible-perpignan-bonnet-d-ane-71788.html

What is pain? French bread

[no caption needed]

After watching Remember the Titans two more times today*, it got me to thinkin'.  Remember the Titans is just a good movie.  No matter what I want to teach, I could find a lesson in this movie.  I happen to be teaching about segregation, which is a sufficiently obvious theme of the movie, but I could have almost as easily taught about obesity in today's youth or women's rights or French stereotypes.  Almost.

I felt like the movie was speaking to me today.  And it wasn't just any voice, it was that of Denzel Washington.  "What is pain? French bread." The French love their bread.  They also love it when other people are in pain.  Maybe they don't love the fact that you are in pain, but they do love to help people when they are hurt.

I have had more strangers talk to me in the past week than ever, in all my time spent in France.  On the way to the symphony an 86 ½ year old woman let me on the bus before her.  I have had more men try to help me walk than can be humanly expressed.  Just today I had 4 people talk to me.  This is abnormal. Maybe I can find insight into this behavior in Remember the Titans.  I should watch it again.

Other than having a slight ankle malfunction, the weekend was fantastic.  I received a delicious dinner made in my own home by Charlie, free symphony tickets, Super Bowl fun at Lindsey's, and great company all weekend long.  (Greg, Melissa, and Krista helped fill up the apartment.  It made it feel like home.)

The best way to spread American cheer
is singing loud for all to hear.

 
Next weekend I told my rugby team that I would dress up like a cheerleader and come and cheer for the team's first home game.  I'll take pictures.

If cheering doesn't work out, there's always jousting.

*Total for the past 2 weeks is now at 16

With dreams of camels and sand dunes stuck in my head…

The day began, like any normal rugby day.  My bag was packed, waiting for me by the door.  I rolled out of bed at 5:30 and started my 40 minute walk to the stadium.  I arrive, climb on the bus, get comfortable, and continue my slumber. 

I hear vibrating and out of instinct I reach for my phone.  It’s my good friend Krista Schilling.  Just the night before I had been in her small French village, situated just outside of the thriving metropolis of Nantes which I have come to call my home.  I had gone to visit Krista partially to plan our next vacation together and partially to load up on groceries from her oh-so-cheap grocery store.  We had originally planned on going to Morocco for our upcoming vacation but, when airfares rose, we decided to visit Austria and Romania instead. After picking up, I hear that Krista has found cheap airfare to Morocco.  We decide to act fast and purchase the tickets.  Morocco it is.

After the 7 hour bus ride, we arrive at the final destination of Pujols. It's a quaint, typical French village.

Pujols-Le-Haut
Where it all went down.

 Pre-game traditions commence.  Changing, distribution of jerseys, pre-game talk, warm-up.  We put up a pretty good fight the first half.  But talk in the locker room is tense at half-time.  Spirits are down.  The second half begins.  I get the ball.  I get tackled and I hear a snap.

I've never broken anything before, but I'd always imagined it would happen like that.  I'm just really glad I didn't break it falling down the stairs or walking on flat pavement - which are both ways I would break my ankle.  Rugby is notorious for being a brutal sport.  It's better this way.  Less self-pity.

Rugby is full of pain.
Men, women, big, and small

Since I broke it in such a small village, the coach thought it would be a good idea for me to wait until we got back to Nantes to go to the hospital.  Once we arrived at 1:30 a.m., of course there were no radiologists at the hospital, so they drugged me up and told me to come back the next day.  Welcome to the French medical system.  I have a cast and crutches (the type of crutches that kids with polio normally use).  I have to give myself a shot daily.  I've tried to look it up online and I still have no idea what drug I am giving myself with a needle.

My team has been great.  All of the ladies are so supportive and ready to help and the coach is fantastic too. Teachers at school have been very understanding.  One fellow language assistant, Consuelo from Spain, even held my bag for me while we walked home yesterday.

The adventures just keep piling up!  I just hope my next adventure is a fun one. I'm not sure I like this one very much.