In a total reflexive action I quickly jerked the stick out of my eye probably doing more damage than the stick did going in. Being the totally cool, always calm person I truly am…and not wanting to let my golf partner know I had been egg headed enough to get a stick in my eye…I headed for the golf cart and calmly mentioned I thought I may have some dirt or grit in my eye and I was having trouble seeing out of it. He took a quick look and the green tinge that came to his face was my first indication that perhaps I may have underestimated the damage done. The gentleman quickly called over our other playing companion to take a look and see if she thought it might be necessary for me to head to the nearest hospital. “Now, now” I said. “I don’t really think that will be necessary, I’m sure I can play out the round”…..the trip to the hospital passed in a bit of a blur. In no time at all it seems I was listening while some young eye specialist announced I had torn away the top layer of my cornea. Wanna know what that feels like? Try giving birth, natural childbirth of course, to a child every day for six days that might come close. Or if you’re a man and can’t really get your head around childbirth pain, have you ever tried to do anything with a piece of heavy grade sandpaper stuck to your eyeball? No? Good, keep it that way.

What happened in the next few seconds will live in my memory much like the births of my sons although not with quite the same amount of joy. As I reached down to pick up the ball my glasses slid down my nose, as my glasses slid down my nose I lost clear focus of what was in front of me, as I lost clear focus of what was in front of me it’s no wonder I didn’t see the stick standing straight up tall and proud just to the left of the ball. I did, however, feel the stick; I felt it go right….in…..my…..eye!

The moment the stick went in my eye two things flashed through my mind in a split second…1. It’s always fun until someone gets hurt and 2. Good God that hurts!…….now what?

The first four holes were perfectly ordinary. Some good shots followed by some not so good shots. A typical start to the season. Then came the fifth hole. The fifth hole at Arkona is a nice little straight out par 4. No sand or water in sight and just a little patch of scrub grass and trees off to the right hand side. My tee shot landed nicely in the fairway with a good chance of making the green in two. My playing partner hadn’t been quite so lucky. His tee shot went slightly astray and rolled into that patch of scrub grass. Not wanting to hold up play, he said not to bother looking for the ball; he’d simply count the stroke and drop a ball close to where his went into the brush. Well I’m half Dutch and, being how we’re known as a frugal lot, naturally, I went in the brush after the ball. After all, the brush wasn’t that thick, the ball couldn’t have rolled in that far. Sure enough, there it was, large as life, laying nestled on a bed of dried twigs and grass. “Ah Hah! Found it!” I announced triumphantly and reached in to grab it back from the scrub grass…….stay tuned

Picture it, a perfect May day. For me it was the beginning of a new golf season and I was standing on the first tee of the Arkona Fairways golf course about to tee off for the first game of the year with three golf friends. Looking out upon the vista of greener then green grass and blossoming trees, there was such a sense of peace and serenity reminding me of why it is I so enjoy one of the most frustrating games there is. I teed up my ball, took my driver in hand and addressed the ball. My backswing was text-book and the solid thwack as my cub connected with the ball told me before I lifted my head that my golf season had begun in grand style. You would think such an auspicious start would denote a stellar season. In a way, you would be absolutely correct. I will never forget this particular game or this particular season…..to be continued

My name is Marsha Bergeron. For quite some time, a number of close friends and family members have encouraged me to start this blog. To all of them I give a huge, heartfelt -Thank you for kicking me off my comfort couch!

Do you have a comfort couch? The place that you feel most safe and secure. It’s not necessarily a piece of furniture, it could be an emotional place you go or a place outside or in your mind where you feel in control.  For a long time my comfort couch was the cocoon of child rearing and career building. The cocoon supported me, sheltered me. It’s what I ‘knew’. I could, for the most part, control what happened within the cocoon. It also kept me suspended almost smothered and existing in a very grey world. No longer!

Stay tuned as I describe what life is like off the comfort couch……..