April 13, 1874
Sam came stumbling into my clinic with a rather sorry limp. He had been running up and down Main Street yelling, "I won! I won! I won my bet!" Too bad for Sam, he also stepped in a hole and sprained his ankle. It's purple and swollen because after stepping in the hole, he tried to keep running and twisted it. He was moaning like a pathetic baby when he got to my office. I checked the joint and wrapped it. He should feel better after a week, but I told him not to go to work for at least two days if he wants it to heal in a timely manner. Problem is, he's more brawn than brains. His pride always gets the better of him. I feel sorry for the poor woman on the other end of his bet. She's in for a shock.