more broken bones

Two weeks ago I was skiing down a gorgeous mountain drinking in the beauty and fell on my knee. The femur (big bone in the thigh) crashed into the tibia (shin bone) and cracked it. Also, the meniscus (pad between femur and tibia) tore. I skied down, barely walked to the car and have not walked on it since then. I had surgery Friday to repair the meniscus. The ACL was bruised but not torn. The tibia is healing and did not need pins. 

One day you can be walking down streets of gold and the next it all turns to ash. This is a paraphrased quote from Lady Mary of Downton Abby. One perk in all of this includes an introduction to this PBS series. Most of the world is watching it. I thought my friends had gone mad pronouncing downtown like a Brit. Then I fell in love with the series and learned the place is called Downton. We are just beginning Season 2. 

Of course my real life at present is much like a soap opera. Who would even believe that a couple could have two broken bones from two separate ski accidents? Two surgeries in one week - who could make this up?

I hinted at the idea that there is more to the story than where I left it. Matt dropped me off at the ER at 8:00 a.m. on December 31, 2013, the last day of the year. Julia greeted us at the front door with a wheel chair. She assured Matt they would take good care of me through a genuine smile. The day ended up as I thought - a lot of waiting. The staff took excellent care of me and lived up to Julia's promise. 

That night we settled the boys down early switching around sleeping positions. Matt and I slept on the sofas in the den. The boys all three piled up in the king-sized bed. We dozed off well before midnight. I awoke to Matthew breathlessly reporting that Sam had thrown up all over him and Joshua. 

Sam came in to sleep beside me. Josh and Matthew showered and  fell asleep on the  other couch. Matt spent the next several hours in the laundromat downstairs. At midnight the fireworks pulsed through the blinds of our condo. I hobbled over to the wall to wall widows and watched the brilliant explosions through sheets of snow. I mused out loud what on earth would 2014 hold for us. 

The morning  brought ten inches of snow and the first day I ever saw of 2014 shimmered like a blanket of crystals. Clean. Bright. New. 

Later Sam and I sat in front of the fire still in our pj’s. I called my dad to tell him of my injuries. “Things cannot get worse,” I said. “But I never say that.” About that time Matt beeped in. 

“I’m going down on the ski patrol stretcher,” he said. 

“Right,” I said. 

But a few minutes later he showed up covered from head to toe in snow. Joshua and he told me their tale. He was building up speed to manage a flat spot. In ten inches of powder, skiing is a different game. He planted his entire weight on his shoulder. I took one look at him and said, “You’ve broken your collar bone.”

About five minutes after that as we sat there gawking at the broken bone and brainstorming about what to do, Matthew came through the door. “It’s awful out there!” he said. Both of us charged him, “Are you ok?” “What is wrong?”

“I lost my iPhone and wallet,” he said. 

We just groaned in relief that he wasn’t hurt. Matt went for x-rays. His collar bone lay in two pieces and his pain roared. We tried to no avail to find the iPhone and wallet. It may surface in the spring. If so, LifeCase will have a new advertisement.

The next day we drove to Denver under sunny blue skies. I had two good arms. Matt two good legs. We made a perfect match. 

Next stop security. The wounded get wheelchairs and go to the front of the line. Twenty-two year olds without ID’s get questioned by the TSA. Matthew fielded about 85 questions and finally passed. We fought our way to the front of line at the Southwest gate. 

Our layover in Kansas City turned south when they announced the need for a pilot. “We are looking for a pilot,” the announcer said. Hmmmmm. How does one round up a pilot at 7:00 p.m. on a Thursday. Apparently one does not round up a pilot. We spent the night there, and it was a quick one. Back at the airport by 5:00 a.m. Matthew went in for round 2 of questions. He flew past this one in flying colors.

We landed and went straight to the orthopedist office.   At home the next day, our friends descended upon us and have nursed us back to health since then. Meals, taking down Christmas trees, running errands, dropping off kids, cleaning ceiling fans: nothing is out of reach for this army of lovers through actions. 

I cannot fathom what 2014 could hold that could outdo this but I am not saying “it could not get worse.” No sir, I am not.

Matt had his surgery Wednesday and can do more with one arm that most folks can with two. We are healing up and feeling loved. My mother who just turned 70 is here nursing us both. She can run circles around us. Her good southern cooking is mending all of our broken places - body, mind and spirit. 

Comments

[Jenn]

I love your whole family! I love the team spirit that shows through. I love the fact that y'all were worried about Matthew's body, not his stuff. I love this picture. And I love it that you're not asserting that it can't get worse. Heal quick so you can come see me. I promise not to take you skiing in Cuba.