It’s almost May and Pat reminded me that we have a Cinco de Mayo story. This took place in the mid-1990’s. I’m a diabetic and sometime in 1993, I got a diabetic ulcer on the bottom of my right foot. My doctors fought it for a year and a half and couldn’t get it to heal. Finally, it was decided to amputate the right leg below the knee. This was done and I got a prosthesis and life got back to normal. The following spring, I wasn’t paying attention and the prosthesis rubbed against the side of my knee and caused a sore that immediately became infected. This had happened before and it meant anti-biotics, at least 2 doctor visits, and 6 weeks in the wheel chair without my leg.
So anyhow, I’m riding my wheel chair and here it is…Cinco de Mayo. Pat and I decided we should join in the festivities by having lunch at Casa de Pico, our favorite Mexican restaurant in Old Town San Diego. We got there and the place was as colorful and beautiful as always. We sat on the patio to take advantage of the warm, sunny day and to hear the music and listen to the chatter and the laughter of the other patrons. Pat ordered a blended margarita in the big glass with the salt on the rim and, being diabetic, I ordered coffee.
As we waited to be served, we talked and admired the holiday decorations. There were some miniature Mexican flags on the tables so Pat took a couple and attached them to the handlebars of my wheel chair. We enjoyed our meal and left the restaurant and then headed for the side gate to leave the area. Getting through the wrought iron gate we needed to go about 50 yards down the side street to the parking lot. Pat was pushing me in the wheel chair and I was teasing and smart-mouthing her about drinking the margarita and maybe being too tipsy to push me. She countered by pushing faster to show that she could handle the job. I was having a heck of a good time and started yelling “faster, faster”. Pat was up to the challenge and in a few seconds was up to full speed. We were flying down the street with Mexican flags flying and Pat sprinting for dear life. We were looking good until we hit the pot-hole. Wham! Pat ran into the back of the wheel chair and I was dumped into the street. Yow, this is gonna’ hurt! Maybe next time I’ll keep my mouth shut.