Endless Session, Day 318: Surf Cavalry
The surf calvalry. Photo
The surf cavalry had arrived.
The Jose B’s (Bacallao and Barahona) along with Boris Vishnevsky and Mike Leko had volunteered their serf-vices, and with a dislocated shoulder and in a world of one-handed struggles, I was beyond happy to have my comrades alongside me.
I swam into the Pacific in my shorty suit, freezing water filling the space between the neoprene and my skin. Used to paddling atop my longboard, I like the feel of cold water on my legs and hands, mostly because I’m not completely submerged. But unable to get a fullsuit around my arm and dawned in a thin springsuit, I came through the first wave hyperventilating with an ice cream headache.
Swimming beside me, Jose Barahona steadied my board as I used my left hand to get to my knees. With a helpful thrust I sailed into the first wave, up for a second and falling quickly after, the water softening my landing a bit as I protectively held my right arm close to my side. I had initially thought this would be much easier.
Another up and down wave and I made a few one armed paddles back out, ditching the board when a set wave threatened to shake things up a bit. Bacallao paddled it back out to me with a slight look of concern, and I gave him the thumbs up when he released it into my hands. The guys caught a few more waves themselves, and while Barahona wasn’t looking, tears of frustration started streaming down my face. I’ve had a lot of injuries during this journey, but this is really quite shitty.
At Dr. Scale’s house, a few more came spraying out of the ducts. From pain, frustration, concern, and fear. “Shoulder is back in. But, my concern is you might have a small tear.”
Shit just got shittier.