...so much for Vegas!

Alright, I will put this vacation in the "worst ever" category!

The plane ride was uneventful; however, disembarking from the plane started the downhill slide. As I began to exit my seat, I felt this ungodly pain at the back of my leg. It literally knocked the breath out of me and forced me back down to the seat. There are 150 people trying to exit and I managed to get out of my seat and hobble down the aisle. It was very difficult to walk, but hey, I’m in Vegas and those machines are calling my name!

I got in a minimal amount of gambling, since I was stuck playing the slots in a small area since I couldn’t walk very well. The pain worsened and the swelling started. Lovely. By the next morning, my knee was badly swollen and Jim (God bless that patient man) talked me into going to the hospital. Vegas has about 20 hospitals and choosing the right one was a nightmare, so I picked St. Rose, a Catholic Hospital. They were wonderful! They didn’t even ask for insurance information until after I was treated and readying for release. Unheard of!

The bottom line was that I tore my calf muscle and emergency treatment included a cast from my toes to upper thigh. My instructions are rest, elevation, ice, and see an orthopedic surgeon as soon as possible when we return home. No bend in the cast at all, the leg just sits straight out. And crutches…gheez, I never realized how difficult it is to walk in crutches. It took them three tries to find the right ones, because of my height. I sort of shuffled out of the hospital and Jim pushed me into the back seat of the car. My pants wouldn’t fit over the cast, so I figured a stop at K-Mart for a skirt might be more practical. They put me in one of those automatic wheelchair things that you drive. Vic stayed with me while Jim filled my Px for painkillers. We didn’t do too badly, I only got caught in one rack of jackets and blouses and I didn’t bowl anyone over. Unfortunately, they only had maternity skirts and I ended up wearing the same black maternity skirt my entire visit. So much for careful mix and match packing! Back to the Casino.

Vic (God bless him too!) ran into the casino and signed his life away to get me a wheel chair. I also have a new respect for anyone in a wheel chair. Maneuvering the chair into the bathrooms is bizarre. Try holding the bathroom door open and wheeling, turning your chair toward the toilet. Gheez. Thank goodness for the ADA that provides wheelchair access. After I finally made it to the bathroom, trying to figure out how to get out of the chair and onto the toilet is a whole other experience. We won’t even go there, the visual description is beyond belief!

Vic or Jim would prop me up at a slot machine and stay within calling distance. They would check on me every few minutes and see if I wanted to move. It took Jim and me a few times to figure out maneuvering the wheel chair and it took me a whole day to figure out how to stand up from it. (Don’t try to use the crutches to stand, just put your hands on the armrests like getting out of regular chair…gheez….talk about an Abbott and Costello scene.) Oh, and don’t forget to use the brakes…the chair moves! It took us awhile to remember to use the brakes. It took Jim a time or two to remember that if he propped my leg up on a chair while we were eating, not to just pull the chair out when it was time to go. If I wasn’t laughing, I was crying!

Our casino had a monorail to another casino. However, it broke down on the return trip and we had to take the shuttle bus. Everyone, about 40 or so people, had to wait until the driver let down the automatic lift to get me into the bus. OK…got that done, but getting off was another story. The lift broke. There are another 40 or so people waiting to get ON the bus now, anxious to get to the other casino. After fiddling with the motor, straps, etc. for about 15 minutes, the only solution was for me to walk off the bus. Crutches, narrow aisle, steep steps, you get the picture. I was literally in tears as I disembarked, not from pain, but from humiliation at having to make everyone wait. I was crying, Jim kept telling me it wasn’t my fault and what the hell, we would never see these people again! What a great guy!

I did manage to learn to play craps when Vic’s friend, Bob, and his wife, Nikki, visited with us. We had a good time at dinner and afterward, Bob got me to a craps table. They accommodated me by getting me one of those tall stools and stuck me in the corner slot. He and I pooled our money and he showed me basic betting strategy. I’m still a little confused on all the different odds, but I would feel confident walking up to one and laying my own bets. I even know what the bet is behind the pass line and when to bet in multiples of six on the numbers six and eight. And, I actually understand, "one for fifteen"! We ended up playing about 90 minutes and actually came out ahead! ‘course, I lost it all on slots, but hey….it’s Vegas.

We finally made it home about 4:00 this morning, safe and sound, sort of. Jim is at Lowe’s now, trying to figure out something to get me into the tub so I can bathe and wash my hair. (I keep telling him this is the "and in sickness" part as well as the "for worse" part. He keeps telling me it’s only temporary and don’t get used to it!) The shower sounds much more appealing, but I’m not sure about all those steps to the basement. I’m thinking maybe he can just put me in a sled, I’ll push off and he can catch me at the bottom…we’ll see! Anyway, that’s our most recent Vegas experience, and the worst part….Elvis didn’t sing to me once!