Chapter 74: On the Mend

Sunday, March 17, 1985

My knee felt a bit better this morning, but it wasn’t good enough for me to feel comfortable with just letting nature take its course. I planned a trip to the Health Center. Before that, we called Grandmother and Professor Berman, some of our far-flung friends, and Claire. She was still not there, but Kay promised to give her a message. She sounded reasonably happy to hear my voice, which seemed like a good sign.

After getting off the phone, I grabbed the book carrying case Angie gave me for Christmas and headed off to the Health Center (in my car — why walk a considerable distance on a questionable knee)? My carrying case was currently hosting Heinlein’s ‘Job: A Comedy of Justice’. I hadn’t read it in many years, and it was a pretty fun re-read.

Once I got there, it was good news, bad news. Good news: only one person was waiting. Bad news: only one doctor was there. With only one doctor, and a relatively minor complaint, it was almost an hour before I was seen.

Eventually, the doctor, whose coat identified him as Dr. Wilson, called me to the back. He poked and prodded a bit, then sent me to get an X-ray. That, at least, went very quickly, though we had to wait for it to be developed.

The X-ray showed nothing, which is what I would expect for soft tissue damage. If we really wanted to figure this out, we’d need an MRI, CT scan, or the like, and no one anywhere would send someone to an MRI for a minor knee injury in 1985. Heck, even in 2020 that would’ve felt like a money grab, and that was with such machines easily available.

Given all that, the plan was for me to take over-the-counter pain medication and use a knee brace (which they provided — covered by the campus health plan, too, not that the cost would have been an issue). Rest, ice, compression, elevation — the standard RICE protocol — was the plan. Dr. Wilson wanted me to return in two weeks if there wasn’t substantial improvement.

Oh, and I was to avoid doing anything ‘stressful’ for my knee for the next week. Jas and I could manage that, obviously, since we already had. Claire? If we were going to do anything (hardly a given!), we’d have to be careful.

Dr. Wilson strongly suggested I drive and park reasonably close to my classes for the next week. This injury didn’t rise to the level of a temporary handicapped placard, though, which might well mean I would be walking nearly as far as I would have anyway, just from somewhere else. He also advised considering cycling instead of walking.

None of us had brought our bikes here, and I guessed we never would. At this point, we would be much better off getting new ones. That might be something we would want to do. Walking was much nicer when a group of us were going somewhere. As our classes became individual, though, bicycling would be handy.

They had me put on the knee brace before I left. It felt surprisingly good compared to the ones I’d worn before. After a bit of thought, the reason was obvious: I weighed well over one hundred pounds less, which meant my leg and knee were smaller, which in turn meant the brace could fit better and struggle less to stay in place.

I stopped by the store on the way home and purchased some extra Advil (thank goodness it was over-the-counter again, though the health center would have given me an ibuprofen prescription if it hadn’t been) and an ice pack.

When I got home, I explained the whole thing to the girls. Cammie immediately complained about this ‘just being an excuse for Steve to sit on his ass and have girls wait on him hand and foot.’

Fortunately, she was grinning.

We discussed bikes later in the afternoon. Almost all of us had gotten out of the habit once cars and rides were available, but we’d all been avid cyclists ‘back in the day’ (which was, after all, only about three years ago, four at the most). For the most part, we’d had fairly mediocre kids’ bikes then, too. The average student here used either a ‘mountain bike’ (notwithstanding that we had no mountains) or a ‘hybrid bike,’ not a ‘road bike.’ Much easier to bump over curbs, wider tires for more stability, better brakes, and often more gears with finer control.

The campus police tried to crack down on cyclists who blew through stop signs (which most cyclists do), but a footrace between police officers and cyclists tended to leave the cyclist un-ticketed. There had been some (fairly hilarious) reports of low-speed chases in the Batt.

We would likely obey the laws, but some stops might be ‘rolling stops.’ It’s hard to stop a bike at every stop sign, particularly since bikes were allowed to go on sidewalks at A&M and foot traffic won’t stop. If they hadn’t let bikes go on sidewalks, many buildings would have been nearly inaccessible, and asking people to walk their bikes for hundreds of yards was a fool’s errand.

Purdue had set up a series of bike lanes nearly everywhere, but that was then and this was now. There were very few bike lanes here, though some of the main walkways were wide enough that people left some space for bikes.

I finally talked to Claire in the early evening. She was very sympathetic about my knee, and failed to mention any of the possible related ‘issues.’ Maybe Kay was listening, though. I filled her in on the hurt feet, too.

The same went for Lindsay. She’d heard about Mel’s injury, but the other injuries were news to her. She wished us all a quick recovery. We were looking forward to seeing each other on Tuesday.

After the phone call, we dealt with the bag of mail Angie and Paige brought back. Only ten letters this time. Two positive, six fairly generic ‘Fags suck!’ comments, and two with serious threats.

Before, we’d just filed them. This time, maybe because of the injured feet, we decided to consult Kyle. This wasn’t really his specialty, but that didn’t matter. He would give us good advice.

Angie and Paige said they’d talked for quite a while with Mom and Dad about it. They agreed we should just let mail go to them. They hadn’t been harassed over the phone, though Mom said there had been a slight increase in calls at night which didn’t use the ring code. Giving people our address, though, might increase the risk of physical assaults on us, and that was a much worse thing.

Monday, March 18, 1985

Driving worked relatively well. There were large parking areas near the Commons dorms. Finding a space wasn’t easy, but I found one. That covered chem, chem lab, golf, lunch at the Commons, and would work for psych. That took care of Paige, too, for much of the day. I would probably move the car before accounting — possibly home — and I could get Paige and Angie where they needed to go then. Mel and Cammie were using Jasmine’s car to get around.

The Batt had news that we might have known if we had been paying better attention, but (as usual?) we hadn’t been. Maybe one of us needed to join Cepheid Variable, just to keep track of things? In any case, we had another ‘con’ coming right up: AggieCon 16, which would be this weekend.

Yes, this meant the Thursday night of the con would be at the same time as Toto, so we would miss that part of AggieCon. And the Friday of the con overlapped our classes, but there wasn’t a lot during the daytime.

On the plus side, there was a ‘sock hop.’ I immediately planned to invite Claire, though (of course) I would check with Jas. I probably wouldn’t ‘hop’ much, but I could get out on the dance floor a bit, and so could Paige and Mel.

There was also a ‘masquerade banquet.’ Another opportunity for Claire, perhaps, though we would need masks. So little time, so much to do...

The Batt also reassured me about our wagering. So far, so good. Villanova had beaten #2 Michigan 59-55. That game alone would have been worth money.

Sorry, Dad, but, on this one, I was happy with a Michigan loss.

Jas and I talked about it over lunch. She was happy with the idea of my inviting Claire. She, in turn, was strongly considering inviting Katy. They wouldn’t really be ‘dating,’ but the masquerade banquet was a good excuse, and girls danced together all the time. No one would question that.

The house helped, and it would continue to help even with Candice and Sherry moving in. We’d invested heavily in soundproofing between the ‘guest room’ and the basement apartment, up to and including how the air ducts were routed, for exactly this reason. We shouldn’t be subjecting them to the sounds of sex through the walls or vents.

We’d have to test it, though. That wouldn’t be hard to arrange!

Claire hugged me as we arrived at psych, then stepped back and looked at my knee.

“Poor baby!” she said, in a slightly exaggerated tone.

“He’s a very big baby,” Cammie said, smirking. “Lying on the couch, putting his leg up in class...”

“Using a golf cart,” Paige said.

“Doctor’s orders!” I said, which got them all chuckling.

“Does it hurt?” Claire said.

“Only if I stress it, which I haven’t done in a while. So, no.”

“That’s good!”

We headed in, taking our usual seats. By this point, the people who sat near us were probably used to Claire and me sitting together. They might still be confused, especially if I was holding hands with both Jas and Claire, but that was fine with me.

After class, Claire and I started towards Mosher, holding hands. Jas and Cammie both walked along with us this time.

“Where do you need to be?” Claire said.

“The big lot behind the Commons,” I said.

“Oh! Then you’re going my way!”

“I am, indeed.”

“Yay!” she said, grinning.

“By the way...” I said.

“Yes!” she said. “I accept!”

“I hadn’t even asked yet,” I said.

“You’re somewhat predictable.”

I chuckled.

“So,” I said, “The sci-fi club is having a convention this weekend at the MSC. There’s a sock hop and a masquerade ball, plus movies and...”

“In! Definitely in!” she said, practically bouncing on her toes. “I miss getting to go to dances. Wait?! Can you dance?!”

“He’s a great dancer,” Cammie said. “Even backward!”

Claire gave me a look.

“Okay! You’re explaining that! But I meant, are you allowed to dance? Is it safe?”

“With the brace on, if I’m not jumping around, and if I’m only dancing for maybe half an hour at a time, with some rest in between, it should be more than fine.”

“Yay! Now! Explain!”

“I told you about my friends Lizzie and Janet...”

She nodded.

“Yeah. It’s a cool story.”

“Lizzie suggested I learn to follow. I spent some time on it, and we did a dance at her prom with her leading. The song was ‘Unforgettable’, and ... the dance pretty much was. I’m definitely no Ginger Rogers, but no toes were smashed and I even managed a dip. I mean, being dipped.”

“That is much too cool! How did you ever learn?” she said.

“I spent quite a while in a Dance and Movement class for musical theater. I asked the instructor to help me work on following.”

“Awesome!”

“I’d probably be lousy at it now. It’s been a long time since I practiced,” I said.

“You’ve got a lot of people to practice with!” Cammie said. “Heck, we all had to learn to lead!”

“Not me!” Jas said. “I’m bad at leading.”

“You excepted,” Cammie said, giggling.

We switched subjects more to the con itself. Claire had never been to anything quite like it and wanted to know what to expect. We made it sound warm and inviting, which I’m sure it would be, and not full of ‘geeks’ and ‘nerds’ — which I’m also sure it would be.

After we said goodbye to Claire (which, of course, involved a few goodbye kisses), we headed to my car.

Cammie giggled and said, “Well, that went well!”

“It did, didn’t it?” Jas said.

“What are you doing during all this?” Cammie said.

“I ... um ... might ... have a date?” Jas said.

Cammie blinked.

“Uh-oh!”

“You remember Katy Lesko,” Jas said.

Cammie rolled her eyes.

“Of course! She’s very cute.”

“I thought so!” Jas said, grinning.

“You know ... I’m glad we’re ‘look but don’t touch,’” Cammie said. “Not just that I think I’d want to claw the eyes out of anyone kissing Mel, but also it just feels like so much work!”

“It’s work,” Jas said, “but it’s all in good fun, and fun is worth the effort.”

“I’ll defer to the experts,” Cammie said, grinning.

After a second, she added, “You know I’m not judging, right?”