Danielle is a cautious skier, but she greatly improved over the course of the day. I would ski at a leisurely pace and wait for her, and that was how we spent the day. She's a pretty girl with a stunning smile, even from under a helmet and behind shocking pink goggles.
One time whilst waiting for her, a couple of teenage boys came to a stop near me, also looking up the mountain. I had passed them on a narrow trail a minute before. When Danielle came by one of them called out to her and it was clear their stop was no coincidence. The other boy must have felt the smouldering heat of my disapproving glare, as he looked at me briefly and made the connection between big angry scary guy and pretty girl, persuading his more forward friend that it was time to go simply by pointing at me; and they disappeared like frost in summer heat. Every once in a while I discover secret Dad powers, cool!
Sometime in the afternoon I was busting through thigh high moguls at high speed and tripped up on some ice. My legs were burning so it didn't bother me to go down and take a rest. But when I got up I was disappointed to see I had bent a pole pretty badly. It broke when I tried ever-so-carefully to straighten it out. I liked those poles too, rats! I threw the bottom away at the bottom and kept skiing with my quarter size pole. It gave me something to hang on to.
Waterville Valley has a J-bar that services their terrain park, hauling erstwhile radical dudes up a narrow track in clear view of massive jumps and rails. We passed the park every time up the high speed quad. Danielle wasn't interested in the terrain park but she wanted to try the J-bar when she finally understood its purpose. Earlier in the day I had wanted to try the jumps, but now my legs were nearly shot and my interest had waned. Still, we went up the J-bar and into the park.
We quickly debated skiing out onto the slope rather than through the park, but it was easier just to ski the park. May as well hit some jumps, as long as they are on the way. For a second I considered that I should have two poles or no poles to go off the jumps, as 1 and 1/4 left me a little out of balance. But the thought was fleeting and I've done many jumps like this before, so I lined up for one of the big ones.
As soon as I left the earth I realized I made a mistake. This is a big jump, you need to clear at least 20' of table top to hit the run out. Plenty of height, and hang time to think. Not much you can do when you are rolling infuriatingly slowly off axis. Things were not going well, but they were going fast; Mr Gravity saw to that.
I hit on my feet at an angle and both bindings popped. I was glad I hadn't cleared the run out, but I was close! I hit the ground on my butt, seriously bruising my tail bone, then launched onto my stomach further down the hill. My weight came down on my wrist, with the ski pole hand grip underneath it. I slid to a stop a few seconds later.
There is a short amount of time after taking a good hit like this where things are peaceful and calm, and you can sort of float above the preceding chaos. This isn't an out of body experience, but rather the time it takes your body to realize it's just had the stuffing kicked out of it and it needs to create some pain or go into shock or generally express displeasure. Sort of like a captain calling around the ship asking for damage reports, hoping that we can do it again if we survive.
I lay there a moment assessing. I didn't want to get up. My left wrist hurt like anything; I could move all of my fingers, but just barely. Danielle came up at that point and demanded to know if I was OK. I told her my wrist was broken, but otherwise I was fine. I walked back up the hill, snapped into my skis, and skied down to the lodge.
When I took the skis off I realized the left hand was useless. I needed to look at it, and formed a plan to use the broken ski pole to splint it until we got home. Inside the lodge I struggled out of my boots and needed help to remove my shell.
My wrist was clearly a mess. My hand was too far over to one side and you could see bones under the skin in strange places. The splint-with-a-broken-ski-pole idea went down in flames. I wandered over to a service desk to ask directions to their first aid center.
Outside I asked a resort employee to point out the First Aid center and he cheerfully did. He asked if I was hurt and I cheerfully explained that I had just broken my wrist. This guy didn't even hesitate in asking if he could help us carry our stuff; a generous offer that was gratefully accepted. He grabbed another employee and they helped us out. After we were inside the clinic they ran and fetched my truck, parking just outside the door. I didn't get their names but am most grateful to them!
In the clinic a cheerful girl greeted us and asked how she could help. I told her my wrist was broken and I was wondering if they had someone who could help me stabilize it. She helped me take off a fleece top, and once she saw the wrist I could see that she had been thinking this couldn't be too serious. I was in a lot of pain, but I never feel the need to share pain with others. She announced that this was my lucky day as it was MA vacation week and they had a doctor and an X-ray tech on staff. They sat me down and provided paper work that would allow me to claim my winnings.
It was clear the wrist was broken, the question was How Broken. We took three good pictures of my highly photogenic hand.
In less than 10 minutes of walking in the door I had my 4Runner outside, x-rays developed and sitting on the board, and was speaking to a doctor in ski gear. The last time I went to the ER they hadn't even noticed that I was bleeding all over their furniture in that amount of time. Full marks for the excellent staff at Waterville Valley!
The doc explained that the first problem was to put the hand back where it is supposed to be. They needed to do a Reduction, which is medical slang for jerk the hand back in place. This is seriously painful, so the doc fist put a bunch of lydacain into the area where bones needed to move.
A 20CC needle looks like something a vet carries around. It looks like it holds about a pint of material, more like a super soaker than a medical device. I thought he was putting me on for sure! Not only was he serious about this needle, but he had to poke it in through the back of the wrist in order to ensure it got in between the bones. I had been in some serious pain until now, but it quickly became clear I was just warming up the ol' pain scale! Most shots are in and out in a second or two; this one was close to 5 minutes! Did I mention there was a LOT of material in this cavernous needle? In addition to dislocated and broken bones, I was going to have additional tissue damage as well.
Once the shot was done the pain was relegated to a dull throb as the lydacain set in. The doc spent more time staring at the x-ray, I could see him formulating a game plan.
Before doing the reduction he first put my arm in a kind of traction. A stand in the office had a type of wire glove attached to it; but there were only fingers, no palm. Each finger looked like a wire version of those 'Chinese finger cuffs' that you get at kid's birthday parties. And this was made for a kid's hand, it barely fit over my fingertips. But once on, the doc leaned on my bicep to help stretch the wrist. I was having a vigorous internal debate on what hurt more, the shot that tore up my soft tissue or this left-over from the inquisition. Stab me with needle-zilla, then Garrot my fingers with a torture device; things didn't appear to be going in the right direction!
Finally the doc felt he had done enough or it wasn't working, but he stopped. He had his assistant hang on my bicep, grabbed my hand and pulled. He pulled straight for a second and then moved my hand down while pulling up. And suddenly, my hand was in place and it felt wonderful! I was nearly pain free, I was elated!
Back into the x-ray room for a couple more pictures and a new look. The x-rays now clearly showed the top of the radius bone was broken clean through and in several pieces. Up to this point the doctor had been hopeful that an Orthopedic surgeon could cast it, but now it was clear that it was going to require surgery. The doc thought it would probably require a plate & some work to get it put back together, but my ortho might have an idea he hadn't thought of. He also noted that he could do a better job of getting the hand to line up, but with broken bones floating around it wouldn't hold and wouldn't do any good.
They put a half cast on my arm to immobilize it. I asked the doc if I won Break Of The Day and he laughed and said "hands down!", which I took to be a bit of ortho humor.
Danielle sat near me and watched the whole thing. I was worried that she might get queasy, but it didn't seem to phase her. Good girl to have around in a pinch!
Diane, on the other hand, was beside herself with worry and concerned we wouldn't get home. She called right when we arrived at the clinic and Danielle filled her in, and I told her the rest of the story as we drove home. She was concerned about several things, but the funniest was her concern that I was driving myself home! With one hand! But I always drive with one hand.
Next: Fast in and out at the ortho as we get handed off to a specialist.
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