In a previous treatise, I related my experiences with a police officer from the University of Oklahoma who was rude and boorish at a concert. (The essay may be read in Thoughts I Thunk, a collection of essays written in 2010.) It was a critical commentary, however, in order to be completely fair to the University, a further comment is appropriate.
On September 3, 2011, I attended a football game at the University of Oklahoma, in which we were playing Tulsa University. I have been attending these football games for the last 25 years and in recent years it has become difficult to sit through them. My legs hurt. A few years ago, standing on concrete for four hours began causing extreme pain and a Saturday’s pain didn’t subside until Wednesday or Thursday, just in time for another game the following Saturday. That was in earlier days; it is worse today. Now, I try to go to one game a year and rely on television for the rest.
As we played Tulsa, I was continually standing up and sitting down, pushing myself off with my cane each time I tried to rise. The pain is caused by arthritis in my knees and nerve damage in the feet and legs, the result of diabetes. Most of the time I was standing on concrete and the pain got steadily worse. We decided to leave at half-time.
I got up to leave and had to walk through a crowd of people sitting on my row. Uncomfortably insecure, I used my cane to help keep me from losing my balance, and, even then, I had to reach out and hold onto a stranger’s shoulder to keep from falling on him. People moved over to give me some room to maneuver, and a young girl held back to allow me to get into the aisle so I could leave. I walked up four or five steps with some difficulty and then there was a long ramp leading down into the common area beneath the bleachers. Walking down the ramp, one of the ushers stopped me. She asked if I needed help going down, apparently noticing how difficult it was for me. I thanked her and told her that once I got to the rail I would be able to make it down.
After getting to the bottom of the ramp, with some difficulty, I still had quite a distance to go before leaving the stadium. I was moving very slowly with small, short steps. It was a hot night; the temperature at the beginning of the game had been over one hundred degrees and it hadn’t cooled down in the last couple hours. As I approached the exit, a second young lady saw me coming her way. My family had gone ahead and as far as she knew I was alone. She saw me looking like I was bothered by the heat and walking with a cane in those short, halting old-man steps. My legs were hurting and felt very weak, as if they could give out on me at any moment.
The staff member asked me if I was all right. I assured her I was okay and she offered to get me a chair to sit down. She also offered to get me a wet rag to cool my face and neck. It was a generous offer, but I assured her I would be alright and didn’t have all that far to go until I would be able to sit in an air conditioned car and that I was not alone. I thanked her for her kindness, and really did appreciate her expressions of concern. I was also appreciative of the other usher and for the kindness she showed. I continued my walk and soon ran into my family who were coming back to see if I was dead.
The kindness of the staff at the game meant a lot to me. After my disappointing encounter with the young police officer, I was glad for this experience. I only wish my legs were not quite so weak and painful.
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