The Baby-Candy Stealer

The Pony finally got his employer approval to see a specialist last Thursday. He spent two weeks with a soft splint on his broken ankle, put on at the Urgent Care the night of the injury, while assorted medical and post office personnel twiddled their thumbs while pointing four fingers back at themselves blaming other entities for not completing the requisite forms.

Anyhoo... for those who have not seen the update on my super-secret blog, The Pony is out 6-8 weeks in a walking boot, with a return to work in 8-10 weeks. The doctor said that if The Pony was a normal person, he'd release him sooner, but with workman's comp claims, the employer expects them to be 100% when they return to work. The Pony has a horizontal fracture of his fibula, whereas the most common break is vertical. The injury is on a non-weight-bearing area, but it's where the ligaments attach. So he can walk on it, and remove his boot while sitting around, but no twisting of that ankle, as it would interfere with proper healing of the ligament area. 

Here's a photo from Thursday, after the soft splint was removed:

 

And here's the boot that's made for walkin':

 

The Pony has been spending time in Hick's recliner, propping up that ankle. It didn't matter for the first 10 days, because Hick was on a trip out west to visit his brother. I had cautioned The Pony:

"When Dad gets back, he'll want to sit in his chair. So you can move over to the couch when he comes in for supper, and to watch TV."

That is not a hardship for The Pony. He moves to the couch when he needs to call assorted supervisors and union reps and comp claims personnel, because that's where his phone gets the best signal. As you might imagine, The Pony has spent more time on the couch than he'd like.

Anyhoo... The Pony is more mobile now than when he was on crutches or a rolly chair. He went to town with me Saturday afternoon, on my 44 oz Diet Coke run, my scratcher errands, to partake in a currently top-secret project, and to pick up Chinese food for supper. Hick came in as we were leaving, and said he was getting in Poolio. Much to The Pony's horror, the last statement was made as Hick was unbuckling his belt. That might have been the fastest The Pony has moved in two weeks!

When we got home with the food, The Pony, having eaten his in T-Hoe on the way home, went to sit on the couch. Hick came in to get his Hunan Chicken. As he took it to the living room for consumption, he motioned to The Pony.

"I'm gonna sit there and eat my food, Bud."

So The Pony moved to the recliner. Later in the evening, I ascended from my lair and sat on the short couch. Hick was still on the long couch, his feet propped on the marred coffee table, watching Walking Tall, the newer version, starring The Rock. It was around 9:30 when Hick said to The Pony,

"I'm about ready to take my chair back."

"I told him you'd want to use your chair in the evenings. See, Pony? You have it the other 21 hours a day."

"I know. But I WAS on the couch! And he told me to get up, so he could eat supper there! So I got up and came to the recliner. Besides, he had three hours he could have been sitting here while we were in town."

"I was in the pool then."

"That's not OUR fault! You knew we were leaving. The chair was empty."

Hick was getting ready to go to bed anyway. So there was no transfer of chair ownership. But I could not resist poking the bear. Hick had a 10-day vacation out west, you know. The Pony and I did not! We have been toiling over a broken ankle!

"I can't believe you! Taking a recliner from an invalid! Good thing we don't have a baby around here. It would be crying for its candy that you snatched out of its hand!"

Hick is only in the house a few hours a day. But when he IS, the king decrees that the castle occupants must cater to his needs.