Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned him in the title, but hell, just look out the window. In single file two men wear the coat of the cold. Leaves: cold. Limping takes longer one way than the other.
The day I got stitches in my knee out I had to park half way to Winnipeg and crutch it over. A nurse took me to bed 4 in the Ambulatory Care zone (short of full ward) and told me to expose my knee. I tried but couldn't pull my jeans over my knee and had to ask for a gown. She was about to say she didn't have gowns but pulled one out, the usual grey-blue. She pulled the curtains and walked away.
(Here I'd like to salute St. Itches, with thanks to bp, and to that kingdom three holes made on my right knee. Been a wet summer for the knee, almost as if there'd be leakage if the stiches gave. But they didn't, and things are coming around. I take back what I said above, that one way took longer than the other. I didn't keep track. St. Itches took off and so did the nurse.)
Blame the Pope's former butler. I had to crutch it back out across the parking lot.
But that was the last time.