The Crash

 I hear the shrill whistle echoing through the natatorium. Immediately I think, “What now? Do we all have to get out of the pool for some stupid reason?” But just as I finish this thought, the big barrel of a man who is sharing the lane with me crashes into me. What the hell?

            We both stop. I understand, now, that the whistle was for us. But why did he crash into me? I was on my side of the lane, swimming backstroke so I never saw him coming. He’d been swimming a fast, splashy freestyle just fine on his side. I hadn’t been happy about his entry into “MY” lane; he was large and lumberjack-like. I knew he was going to be a challenge to swim with, generating waves, taking up a lot of space. Little did I know he’d crash into me!

            “Oh… oh, so sorry!” he says now as we both float mid-lane. “I thought you were other woman….”
            Ah, okay, I get it now. Sue, whom I’d been talking to earlier (a fellow displaced swimmer from the Y—she was trouble there too—but that’s another blog), had gotten out at the ladder a few moments before. And Crash Man had thought that she was me. One old white lady looks just like another, right?

            An honest mistake. However, he should have made sure that she was me before he took over the lane!

            I let him apologize briefly; told him I’m okay. The lifeguard doesn’t come over to check on me. It’s the Big Unfriendly Supervisor Guy. I guess since he stopped us with his whistle; he’d done his job.

So, now Crash Man and I both turn around and swim on.

            Yet, I’m shaken up. Discombobulated. He moves into the lane next to me soon after. Knows he’s not welcome? Or just sheepish?

            I continue to swim, happy he’s moved, when another Barrel Man stands on deck, motioning to get into my lane.

            Shit. No way am I going to let a crash happen again. Not that this man would crash into me. Crashes are rare. But still, I’m shaken.

            I ask the Lifeguard if I can move over to the walking lane with Alice. He nods, ‘yes’. Still, he hasn’t checked on me.

            My thumb hurts from the crash. I hope I can still play the piano!

            “Oh, Carol, you’re fine”, I tell myself as I move over to share the lane with Alice. She welcomes me with her usual cheery grin, her blue turban bobbing up and down in the square of sunlight from the open roof as she water jogs.

            I finish my swim with her. But I still feel discombobulated. Later, I talk with Super Swimmer Woman outside the Natatorium.

            “You heard the whistle?”

            “Oh, yes!” she exclaims softly.

            “That was me. Some Big Guy crashed into me!”

            “Oh, no! That’s terrible.” She oozes sympathy. I’m encouraged to continue my vent.

            “Yeah, I was on my side of the lane, swimming backstroke and bam! He just crashed into me.”
            “That is just awful!”

            “Yeah, evidently, he thought I was another swimmer that had gotten out, so he started swimming in the entire lane. But he should have checked first. I’m small! He was probably twice my size. I don’t take up a lot of space and still he crashed into me!”

            “We are entitled to Our Space!” she proclaims, small herself. “Especially, when it’s crowded like this.”

            “Exactly!”

            She nods. I see the sympathy flood from her soft brown eyes that peer over her mask.

            “Keep drinking your water!” she advises, nodding toward my water bottle I’m clutching.

            “Oh, yes,” I say, wondering why this would help with anything.

            I thank her for chatting with me. Wish her a good day. Take myself, my water bottle, and my tender thumb over to one of the outside tables to eat my granola bar and rest a moment.

            Getting crashed into takes a lot out of a person! Thank goodness for water and for sympathetic fellow swimmers to take the edge off the discombobulation!

          

The Chore Gauntlet

 

“Time for the Chore Gauntlet!” Bald Headed Woman announces to the locker room at The Plunge, maybe to someone in particular, maybe not. One woman does respond, “Oh, yeah, I know what you mean.”

      They both laugh. Camaraderie in Chores. I’m not sure what she means. Does she mean that she has a list of chores and she has to run around them? Does that mean, then, that she is avoiding doing chores?

Let’s see, I have to go to the store, do the wash, clean the bathroom, change the sheets, clean up the ants. It is quite a gauntlet! Maybe I run from one to the other? First, I head to the store, which is a gauntlet in and of itself. Weaving around all of the unmasked people who are clueless about spreading their germs is enough to send me over the gauntlet edge! And for the wash, you’d think this would be easy since I do have a washer and dryer in my house, but for whatever reason, I often just forget to do this chore. The bathroom. That is a gauntlet that I avoid though I don’t know why. It only takes 5 minutes. I don’t do a very good job! Changing the sheets? This is hard! The comforter is heavy.  The sheets don’t cooperate. I can never tell which corner of the bed the folded ones goes over! And then the ants! I am going to have a nervous breakdown over them!

            That’s a gauntlet I want to avoid!

            Yet, Bald Headed Woman seems cheerful about it. And I wonder, since she’s bald, I assume (and I could be wrong) that she is in some kind of cancer treatment. Maybe being able to even do the chores is a joy for her? I can’t imagine going through cancer treatment. I only have soap operas to gauge its horrors. And of course, they’re not real.

            Or are they?

            When Sharon had breast cancer, she underwent chemo and she was nauseous and tired and very emotional, crying at odd times and then laughing at herself. But Sharon is a brave woman. We know that from all of her marriages. After all, being married to Victor Newman for 10 minutes would be a gauntlet in and of itself!

      

      I decide to participate in the locker room dialogue today. Cuz, I like the idea of a Chore Gauntlet. “You’ve got a swim in,” I offer, “so now you’re ready for your day of chores!”

            She nods, chuckles. “You got that right.”

            “Swimming is the most important thing!” I proclaim.

            “That and breathing!” she jokes. Or is it a joke? Maybe as a cancer patient, breathing is something that is not to be taken for granted!

            “Swimming and breathing!” I laugh. “They’re both equally important! In fact, I put them at the top of my to do list!”

            We all laugh. Bald Headed Woman is finished packing up her suitcase on wheels and is heading for the door.

            “Have a good day,” she calls out.

            “I will!” I say, “after I get my swim in!”

And I’m out of there, out to the pool, ready to breathe and swim and breathe and swim and breathe and swim! The Chore Gauntlet looms, but at least for an hour, I can avoid its nagging presence.