Chapter 34: being dumb on skis

 Chapter 34: Being dumb on Skis

              On the weekends, being in Kalispell, right next to Whitefish, I skied (mostly meeting people on the mountain). It was a fantastic location for a rotation because the skiing was amazing. Most trips up to the mountain I met some fun people on the chairlift and continued to ski with them, and then meet up with them future days. I skied almost every weekend day. Then, a couple weeks into the rotation I went skiing and met some guys on the chairlift. They wanted to race down the mountain. I agreed. It was an icy day and I was wearing my powder skis. This was certainly a good idea. We get off the lift and have a quick race down. I check my app. I hit 62 mph, which feels comfortable at the time, and win our mini race. I meet up with them at the bottom—they want a rematch. I agree. We start heading down. I decide that I can get to a faster max speed. Flying down an icy slope I lose my edges. I try to stay straight and use rockers to turn instead. No dice. I catch an edge on my outside right. The downhill speed is immediately applied sideways to my right leg, just above the boot. I feel it and hear it snap immediately. I know immediately that my right tibia and fibula are destroyed. There’s no initial pain, which surprises me. My ski doesn’t pop off and I immediately start to tumble further down the run. I can feel the bottom of my right leg flopping around just below the knee as I tumble. I’m briefly thankful that my knee wasn’t injured. I would rather have a broken leg than a ruined knee. Easier recovery, better in the long term. I finish tumbling down. The other guys from the chairlift catch up, they check on me and I tell them that I’ve broken my leg. They ski down to get snow patrol to come help. Now the pain is starting a little bit. While I wait, I hold my right leg in traction to keep the bone fragments apart, which greatly relieves any pain. Next I work on taking off my skis and setting them next to me. My next thought is that I should get my right boot off before the leg swells up. These are nice boots and I don’t want them to be cut off. I get my leg in traction, then hold the bottom broken part. I’m somehow able to pull my boot off without extreme pain or further injury. I hold the leg back into traction and keep the now bare foot on top of the boot to avoid snow. Then I look at my phone to check my top speed. I had nearly hit 70 mph prior to crashing, which I took a strange amount of pride in, and then vowed to never do again. Eventually ski patrol gets to me with their toboggan. They ask me what happened and I told them that I broke my leg. They put my bottom right leg in an air splint and then placed me in the toboggan with my skis at my side, and my right boot on my abdomen. It was strangely comfortable. Somehow I felt like a real skier now that I was being taken down in the classic emergency toboggan. They get me down to the small clinic on the resort. We go through what happened. They take an Xray that confirms the break. They want to have me take an ambulance to the hospital. Initially I tell them to just give me a splint and that I can use my left leg and drive myself to the hospital. I know that an ambulance will be incredibly expensive. They tell me they don’t think that’s a good idea and that I can’t have any pain medications unless I take the ambulance. Then they show me the xray and say their concerned about neurovascular injury. I agree that the ambulance is the best idea. They ask if there’s anyone I know that they can call. I give them the number for a nice woman I had met on the chairlift at the resort the previous day, whom I was planning on skiing with that day. She texted earlier to say she was on her way up. I texted her back not to come up anymore because I broke my leg. They called her, which was embarrassing enough, and she agreed to meet me at the emergency department in Kalispell.

              They get me into the ambulance. My skis are left there and labeled. My other friend who was on the mountain already would drive my car back, so I left my keys at the clinic. On the ambulance they used Ketamine as the main pain medicine. It worked wonderfully. I was shocked, especially because I had had opioid pain medication before for my wisdom teeth and I knew that it worked; However, ketamine was far more effective. It both took away some of the pain, and made me feel as though it were no longer me that was experiencing the pain—as though it had been transferred to another body.

              We get to the hospital and they roll me into a room in the ED. K, my friend from the chairlift who was called, is waiting for me. I thank her profusely and apologize for the change of plan from skiing. A Doctor and nurse come in, I tell them that it’s OK if K stays here. They tell me they want to do surgery as soon as possible and tell me about the orthopedic surgeon on call, who will apparently be there soon. K looks worried. She tells me that this particular surgeon has a bad reputation and that she’d like to try and get the surgeon she works with (who happens to be on call as well) to come in and do the surgery. K is apparently an MA at an orthapedic clinic. The first surgeon comes in initially. He is pompous, did his residency at the University of Washington (which I know is supposed to be a fantastic program), and proceeds to spend the majority of the time talking about himself. By then my pain is worsening drastically. I ask several times for more medication, but this surgeon continues to talk about himself. He eventually leaves and I get my medication, which offers a little relief. K finishes talking to her clinic. The Doctor she works with, Doctor P, has agreed to come in and do the surgery. The emergency medicine physician returns and we tell him about the surgeon change. He tells us that he can make that work and will get things prepared. The nurse comes in to say she is glad that I got a different surgeon, and that she thinks Dr. P is the best. I’m incredibly grateful for K and getting the other surgeon and tell her so. It feels like total dumb luck. If I had not met K the day prior, I would be stuck with the (allegedly) cruddy other surgeon.