Tales from the Trail #13: The many blessings of many Braces …
Things weren’t getting any better as I sloooooooowly made my way down Highway 60W (which at some point had turned into Frankfort Ave), all the way through Louisville towards the Ohio River. In truth, things got so bad at one point that a super-spiesig coffee shop owner (in a place called Caffe Classico) dismissed me with a cold-heartedness that had rarely been seen before.* Truly needless to say, I was feeling super low at this point in the Walk, and yet – as was so often the case when things got really dicey along these pilgrimages – things were about to turn around for the far better. For it was then that hobbled up to the Blue Dog Bakery. And it was there that I not only received a delicious glass of cool water, but a warm blanket of kindness as well from employees Tandy & Alex – the former of whom helped me to navigate my upcoming route towards the River (and who was sincerely amazed by my Walk and told me to sit down at a table outside and rest there as long as I liked), and the latter of whom offered me two delightfully delicious baguette rolls (that reminded me so clearly of my better days in Germany that tears came to my eyes while I was eating them) …
And yet this wasn’t the only kindness I was extended that late afternoon. For after rising from my restful repast at the bakery, I didn’t have to limp far before I saw & entered the lovely halls of the Crescent Hill Library, where the librarian on hand was exceedingly warm towards me as well; expressing admiration for my efforts and also telling me to sit wherever I liked and rest for as long as I wished (Yes, this was a standard public library offering, no doubt, and yet the way this man offered the same was special & heartwarming nonetheless) … Thereafter the shower of goodwill & grace continued when I briefly stopped by Quills coffee shop, where barista Hanna was extremely kind towards me as well, making all my recent pains and fears and frustrations very much easier to bear. Yes, my knee was still really screwed up (and still hurting quite intensely) when I departed, and I was still quite upset by the same. Walking was still not going well at all at this point (again: an understatement), so I tried to hitch once again for awhile, and once again didn’t receive even a wink of interest from passing motorists while doing so. And so I simply amble-limped on through the still-glaring heat to the riverfront, where I proceeded to sit for quite some time in the shade and patiently wait for things to cool off before crossing the massive (and glaringly exposed to the Sun) Big Four walking bridge over into Indiana …
And that is indeed what I did; eventually rising to set out and limp slowly over said bridge into the neighboring town of Jeffersonville. My first stop there was a local Hardees, where the large and largely indifferent manager let me sit but did so with an air of open scorn & disdain. This was definitely not the vibe in which I wished to be soaking (certainly not in my current physical & psychological state of being), so I got up sooner than I would have otherwise and headed out to find Highway 31N. Thinking my fortunes had changed again, I quite easily followed the signs thereto, and yet that portion of Highway 31 was directly conjoined with Interstate 65 at that point in its journey northward (for many miles, it turned out), and there was no way for me to move onward along its route without limping unstably & still quite slowly alongside its busy (and blatantly dangerous) thoroughfare.
And so it was that I ended up abandoning yet another well-laid plan and headed instead off the roadway completely, back into town to look for an alternate route. My knee was reeeaaalllly hurting at this point again, and I was feeling deeply despondent as a result. And yet what should I happen upon first & foremost upon wobbling away from the highway but the rising (and quite welcoming) towers of Clark Memorial Hospital. “Fair enough,” I thought at the time, and limped into the emergency room there – ostensibly to obtain directions to a more pilgrim-friendly stretch of Highway 31N, but also to have my knee checked out to boot (Yes, pun intended) …
Well, after a long wait in the ER waiting room (where I admittedly feel deeply asleep sitting up on a number of occasions), I got my knee X-rayed and examined and was ultimately told by the doctor on call that I had a relatively significant LCL sprain in my right knee and that I would need some drugs and a knee brace in order to continue. Both were provided eventually (with me politely turning down the former, which came in the form of a proposed injection of Toradal – the same Toradal that the NFL Players Association had recently cautioned against, citing a high risk of “major bleeding” as one of its side effects), and – after thanking all of the truly lovely staff on hand (Kathy & Kaley & Haley & the aforementioned doctor & even the lab tech who kindly allowed me to refuse the shot of Toradal without taking any offense) – I headed back out into the city, threw away the bill they had given me before my departure** and then with surprising ease ambled my way to Highway 31N and started limping (with much less pain, thanks to the wonderful brace I had been given) onward into the very early morning.
*Me: “Hi, I am walking for peace and got injured a shortwhile ago. May I simply sit here [in your almost completely empty coffee shop] and rest for a bit before continuing onward”
Shop owner: “Ummmmm [said through an obvious slight scowl] No … We don’t do that here.”
**I had made it very clear to everyone involved from the very beginning that I was a mendicant Peace Pilgrim in perpetuity, and that any treatment they chose to provide me that evening would have to be offered under the penumbra of the Hippocratic Oath.
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