A Funny Thing Happened  . . .   (Part 2)

So, where was I?  Oh yeah.  Whipping down the Black Diamond like an Olympic hopeful, leaving Jenn in my dust.  Funny thing about skiing on ice, which I didn’t know, because I AM A BEGINNER.  Skis just don’t “cut in” the way they do on fluffier snow.  Turning quickly becomes quite the craps shoot.  Or, in my case, your turning just turns to crap.  At some point while I was hurtling downhill, I decided that I was going waaaaaaaayyyy to fast for comfort, so I drew on all my grade 7 field trip experience to try and turn to slow myself down.  Well, I did turn, but I didn’t slow down.  Instead I went hurtling toward the tree line at an alarming speed.  I believe at this point I may have started panicking and screaming obscenities.  I knew that this was not going to end well.  I dug in again and tried to turn back the way I’d come, but, as ice is a solid and not so super grippy, this plan did not work.  Now, I’m a little unclear how I managed it, but at this point my skis decided to leave the surface of the hill and fly up over my head, taking my body with them. Oh yes.  We were airborne.  

I remember at the start of the night, Jenn telling me, “remember, if your going to fall, fall up-hill”.  Hmmmm.   Interesting theory.  Reality is, however, a cold uncaring bitch, and as I was flying upside down through the air I remember thinking, “this is NOT up-hill)”!  Then I remember thinking, “I am gonna hit my head any minute.  I hope I don’t hit it too  . . . WHAM”!  Wow.  That was hard.  Really, really hard.  Then I started into cartwheel number 2.

You know, I really thought the worst was over.  I thought, I’m not unconscious, I’m not dead, now if I could just stop this never ending crash, everything would be fine.  Ah, naiveté.  Reality reared her ugly head again and ended my second cartwheel on my clavicle. 

You know those videos they show on tv of nuclear bomb explosions?  That big mushroom cloud of destruction that erupts from the earth?  Well, something akin to that occurred in my collarbone.  This huge bloom of pain exploded through me.  As I hurtled into my third cartwheel I was trying to assess the damage.  “Oh that was not good”, I said. “That was very not good at all!  My collarbone might be damaged.  Wow, it hurts!  I hope I don’t land on that again”.   It was as that thought floated through my mind that I came down for the third and final time.  Directly onto my already agony ridden collarbone. 

You know that scene in Return of the Jedi, when Darth Vader aims the Death Star at Alderon, and the resulting explosion obliterates the planet.  That is approximately the size of the pain explosion that erupted through my clavicle.  Finally I came rolling to a stop.  I could hear Jenn way behind me up the hill calling, “Michelle, are you ok”?!  Well.  That was a good question.  Was I ok?  I started taking an inventory.  Head can move, check.  Legs can move, check.  Arms can HOLYWHATTHEFUCKSHITCHRISTFUCKSHITOHMYGODMOTHERSONOFABITCHSHITSHITSHITFUCK!  Ok.  Arms not good.  I yelled up the hill, “No! I’m not ok!!!”.  There’s an interesting thing about the nature of a broken bone.  The initial pain of the break really sucks, but that is nothing compared to the pain that comes about five minutes later.  Holy smoke.

All of a sudden a skier pulls up beside me.  He flips up his goggles and says, “Wow!  That was quite a fall!  Are you ok?”.  My rescuer was a former snow patrol member and EMT, who we’ll call Angel, who just happened to be skiing right behind me.  I told him I was pretty sure I had broken my collarbone.  I was pretty calm at this point.  Then he suggested that I roll over so I wasn’t laying directly on the broken bone.  Moving was not a part of my plan.  Not then, not ever again.  I would just lay on that hill forever thank you very much.  But he wanted me to move.  Then Jenn made it down to us. “OhmygodareyouokohIcan’tbeleivethishappenedareyouokohmygodthisishorribleareyouinpainohmygodIfeelhorrible . . . “.  Now I started to panic.  The pain was very intense and I was squeezing my eyes shut as tight as I could.  Angel said, “Open your eyes”, and I said “No”. He said, “You need to open your eyes.  How many fingers am I holding up”.  I was not opening my eyes.  Jenn said, “Michelle.  Open your eyes.  Tell me, is he good looking?”  Well now.  I cracked an eye.  Hmmmm.  I cracked the other eye. Hmmm.  Smooth skin, 5 o’clock shadow, bright blue eyes.  I opened both eyes for a better look.  Yep.  Definitely good looking. “Yes Jenn” I said, “He’s definitely good looking!”  Then I snapped my eyes back shut.  Angel seemed satisfied that I did not have a concussion. 

Finally The Ski Patrol arrived.  Funny thing, but earlier in the evening during a ski lift mix up, I ended up riding to the top of the hill with fella who, as it turned out, was on ski patrol duty that night.  I was joking with him about it being my first night skiing since the 7^th grade.  I actually said, “You better stay close to me tonight, because I just might need you”.  Ha, ha.  Well guess who was the first ski patrol on the scene.  It was like a big ol’ reunion. Jenn was like, “hey, remember us from earlier tonight?” and he was like, “oh yeah!” and she was like, “blah, blah, blabbity, blah, blah . . .” and I was like, “Aaaaaaahhhhrrrrgrgggghhhhhhhh!!!!!”.

OK.  To speed things along, Snow Patrol MADE me rollover onto a back board so they could load me onto their little toboggan thingy and ski me down the hill.  MAJOR panic and tears ensued.  Ride to the bottom was extremely bumpy and painful.  More tears.  When the ambulance came they actually made me stand up and climb onto the gurney on my own, broken bones and all.  I didn’t think it was possible, but the ride in the ambulance (which carried no drugs), was even bumpier than the ride down the mountain. Cue the tears. I was bawling from pain, from anger at myself, from pain, from my failure as a mother, from pain. (I can be a tad dramatic).

I’ll let you in on a closely guarded secret.  I am a huge wimp.  HUGE.  By the time we got to the hospital, I was a bawling mess of tears and snot.  The paramedics made a crack to the ER doctor about my having a, “very low pain tolerance”.  Thanks guys.   Blessedly I was pumped full of drugs and sent off for an x-ray.  I just cannot say enough about the wonderfulness of modern narcotics.  About ten minutes after my xray, as I lay on a gurney, stoned out of my tree, I heard the doctor and the x-ray technician discussing my x-ray.  All I remember hearing was, “Oh My!”.

Stay tuned for Part 3!