I could see it in their eyes as the steward pushed my wheelchair down the gangplank. Poor thing got drunk and sprained her ankle.

Well they got the “sprained” part right.

The night before my husband, Tim, and I celebrated our 41st wedding anniversary aboard the SS Disaster, I caught the heel of my shoe and took a tumble. The problem occurred when my foot remained in my shoe that was wedged in a crevice between the carpet and hardwood floor causing all of my weight to come down on my foot.

A crewman whisked me to sick bay and if I hadn’t been in such pain it would have been exciting. But unlike the Love Boat, this medical facility had seen better days. Tim filled out reams of paperwork and waived all of our rights to a legal suit, which appeared to be top priority. Instead of friendly Dr. Adam Bricker the medical team consisted of those for whom English was a second language. With everything else aboard the cruise ship in a-one condition, I found the x-ray machine primitive and as it turned out not very reliable.

I hobbled back to my stateroom with an Ace bandage, 4 Ibuprofen, and a borrowed cane. I received 3 phone calls reminding me to return the cane. Tim and I had room service for the last breakfast before debarkation.

Five months later, I still couldn’t wear regular shoes or put pressure on that foot so my private physician x-rayed my right foot again. The culprit was a hairline fracture that had refused to heal. He placed me in a “boot” for five weeks to encourage healing.

On thing about lugging around an ugly “Frankenstein” boot is that it takes energy. Energy burns calories so voila! If I can keep this boot on for say about a year, I would be down to my fighting weight. Of course my husband would differ that I am always at my fighting weight.

Friends ask what happened to my foot. I grow bored with telling the truth so I embellish. I fractured my foot climbing Kilimanjaro or while scaling the Austrian Alps or ice skating in Switzerland. Without too much encouragement I can elaborate that I shared drinks with Brad and Angelina in the lodge where we stayed and dropped in on Johnny Depp when we breezed through Paris. Flight takes fancy when I began on poetic license with emphasis on the “lie” part.

Usually though when friends inquire about our anniversary cruise, I say that it was a big trip complete with a booty call, they smile and think they understand what I mean.