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From Bruce Ludemann, V.P. of Administration & Controller:

• Fact #1: A broken ankle hurts.
• Fact #2: A broken ankle takes six weeks to heal.
• Fact #3: Breaking an ankle changes everything.

Wouldn't you know it. I close a private placement financing on May 20th, get our new space ready for move-in day, start looking forward to normal workdays and some recreation time — and I break my ankle. For those of you interested, the ankle break happened at Emma and Randy's birthday party during a football game.

Upon waking up the morning after (in a world of hurt, mind you), I started to quickly realize that things were going to change. It is amazing how much we take a healthy body for granted. Normal everyday activities are not so normal anymore. Let's take a look at my normal day under the new scenario.

The alarm is ringing and it is 6:00 a.m. I wake up and look to the left and I am reminded immediately by the sight of my crutches that I have a broken ankle. Can't roll out of bed and stumble to the bathroom because I need my mental and physical faculties to crutch there. So I lie there and wake up. Sufficiently awake, I swing my right leg over to the side of the bed, being ever-so-careful not to crush my sleeping cat's skull with the cast. I hoist myself up and crutch to the bathroom.

Balanced ever so carefully on my crutches I brush my teeth and rinse. My left leg, the good one, is already screaming in pain as it bears all my weight. With teeth brushing over, I start focusing on the next task, the shower. Since I can't get the cast wet, I don the ever-chic black Hefty trash bag on my right leg. First I make sure that the soap and shampoo are within reach, based on my estimated balancing position in the tub. Now the adventure. It's not that easy to get into a bath tub to shower on crutches. With the shower water running, you have to sit on the tub's edge, swing the legs around, and get back up on the crutches. What's so hard about that you ask? The tub floor is wet, and crutches and wet surfaces do not go together well, at all. Successfully back up and balanced carefully on my crutches, I take a shower while constantly muttering to myself, "Don't drop the soap."

Thank God it's spring, because I do not have many pairs of pants with a full left leg and one half of a right one. Dressed in shirt and shorts I proceed to work. Before the accident, I always got a cup of coffee at Cumby's to bring to the office, but not now. Crutching and carrying a cup of coffee is impossible. Now I go to Cumby's, drink my coffee there while balanced on my crutches, and then go to work. Trust me, you do not want to deal with me if I haven't had my morning coffee.

I park my car at work and prepare to break the first sweat of the day. While the parking lot is only across the street, it takes me a good five minutes to get to the entrance. I then crutch up a flight of stairs and hobble to the elevator. While I wait for the elevator, I raise my right arm and take a deep breath to determine if I am "Sure." Work itself is quite normal with a broken leg. Everyone at Tripod offers to help me out around the office, and beancounting is generally done sitting down.

With the work day done, it is time to go home, and I am exhausted. I get in the door, greet my cat, and find my way to the lounge chair so I can put my cast up. My leg is pounding like hell and my hands are swollen from supporting all my weight. After about ten minutes, my thoughts wander to food. Due to exhaustion, I hallucinate that I can teach my cat to cook. I shake that thought off, crutch to the fridge, grab a beer and gaze at what is available to eat. Everything in the fridge needs to be prepared. There is no way I'm going to try to cook on crutches.

I grab another beer, crutch to my chair, call the pizza man, and realize that I'm going to have to put up with another 30 days of this.

Fact #4: Broken ankles suck.

Take care,
the Beancounter

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Read more "Letters from Tripod" in the archive.

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