What’s the most pain you’ve ever felt? Maybe you’ve broken a bone. You could’ve neglected to take pain pills after having your wisdom teeth removed. Perhaps you’ve experienced the daunting yet beautiful miracle of birth. Whatever it was, you’ve felt it – an intense, almost indescribable sensation. It can shake you to your very core.
Up until this point, I could have boasted that I’ve never truly felt pain. Heartache, yes. Headache, yes. Strain, yes. But pain, not so much. Despite my adventurous lifestyle, I’ve managed to keep my body intact. I’ve jumped off 50+ foot cliffs into quarries, climbed treacherous mountainsides, and, for god’s sake, hit my mom’s car with a dirt bike when I was thirteen. Yet, there I was, many dangerous decisions later – unscathed. Well, until now.
‘Twas the day after Thanksgiving, our bellies were stuffed with fried turkey, and our heart’s ached to get back on our beloved mountain after a seemingly never-ending summer hiatus. We planned to spend the holiday weekend shredding and watching the Women’s Skiing World Cup at Killington.
Daringly, we started the day with a double black diamond trail (the utmost difficult level if you’re a novice). DUN. DUN. DUN. You may suspect that this is where it all goes downhill. If so, you are wrong, so very wrong. Okay, well – we did go downhill, but very successfully. Some might even say in expert fashion. So, if I didn’t hurt myself on the double black diamond trail, I must have been doing some extreme trick? Wrong again. I was, in fact, doing nothing of significance. It all happened on a blue trail (second easiest trail type) called Great Northern that I must have ridden at least 382 times in my life and six times on that very day.
Flying down the slightly icy trail with my usual high-speed splendor, I knelt toward the front edge of my board to slow down when an unexpected clump of snow sent me soaring backward into the air. I flipped and tumbled down the mountain before I was able to bring myself to a halt. At some point in mid-air, my left arm must have instinctively grasped my right in support, for as I lay face down in the snow, I had no idea how it got there. My body knew something was wrong before my mind did. But after a few seconds of confusion, the pain instantly sent my body into panic mode. Even through many layers, I could feel that my shoulder was not in place. Discomfort and agony radiated from the area and seemed to infect my entire body. Soon a few passing skiers stopped to see if I was okay. After a glimpse or two, they could tell I was in incredible distress. They called Ski Patrol.
I waited there face down in the snow for what felt like an hour before they arrived, refusing to let anyone remove my snowboard (my precious). But as it was forcibly removed, precisely what I feared would happen happened. A helpful, but in this case incompetent, skier let my board fly down the mountain and into the woods. I howled in pain and anger.
NoOOOOoOOooOoooOooOoOoOoO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just when I needed them most, my family arrived. Aside from a few strangers, I had been alone up until this point, as Alyssa had been ahead of me and did not know I fell. She was now at the base of the mountain calling me repeatedly. My brother, Alex, helped Ski Patrol fashion arm support against my body and lift me into the emergency sled. Now, the pain had started to infect my soul. I could barely hold myself up. My eyes rolled around in my head like gumballs in a fish bowl. Alex held me tight as Ski Patrol carefully brought us both down the mountain. With each bump and sway, my arm felt as if it bounced further out of place. I gasped for air. Primal groans I didn’t recognize escaped my mouth. My brain went numb to the outside world, ready to give up at any moment. Only two things kept me there:
Alex’s reassurance and grasp.
The speakers that I installed in my helmet.
My Spotify playlist “Snowboarding Vibes” got me through it. Fast forward another hour – I’ve made it to the Killington Medical Clinic. It only took a ski sled, a snowmobile, a car, and seven people to get me there. I remember being paraded into a back room where two lovely ladies gently removed my several layers of clothing. This was not fun. Once I was stripped down, I could finally see my injury for what it was and it was uglier than I could have imagined. To me, it looked as if my shoulder was several inches higher, while my arm was slung distorted several inches lower. I wanted to pass out, but if I did, I would risk making my injury worse. So, I chugged some water and hung on to consciousness for dear life. I had to sit through a few x-rays with my disfigured arm before a doctor arrived. He concluded that nothing was broken and slowly grabbed my arm to put it back in place.
This was when I prepared for the worst. I expected some dramatic, high pain movement that would send my arm back in with a snap. But, that wasn’t the case. He simply took my hand, moved my arm out, and then in. Magically, I was back to normal. My nerves were so messed up I could barely tell. With an immobilized arm, a newly acquired XL Killington Medical Clinic t-shirt and blue sling, I walked into the waiting room where Alyssa and my family sat and shouted, “I’m alive” with a laugh.
Hardy har har.
So, what did I gain from this experience? Other than a numb-to-the-touch shoulder, I learned that I am not invincible. I had what some would call a Mortal Moment. It has finally come to my attention that I am just a human. I can get hurt and eventually I will die. I’ve always known this, but it never genuinely registered with my brain until this moment. Although this newly acquired information has undoubtedly affected my outlook on life, it will not change my lifestyle. I’m not keen on getting hurt, but to me adventurous and sometimes risky actions make life worth living. And, let’s face it – a wacky snowboarding, mountain climbing, cliff jumping fiend is just who I am. As a wise human once said, “you have to risk it for the biscuit.”
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