(Spoiler Alert: The Achilles Tendon Wins)
I became acutely familiar with my calcaneus (heel bone) on a crisp January day with brilliant blue skies at Squaw Valley, USA. The snow was hard and fast – we call it Sierra Cement. I love these conditions because I love to go fast. There’s nothing like the sensation of zooming down a mountain to get the adrenaline pumping.
On this fateful day I am making laps on a black diamond run under Red Dog with a cut back to the Far East Express where I can’t believe my good luck in finding a high speed lift without a line! I’m experimenting with some wiggle room in my boots because a recent critique of my skiing style revealed that I was not bending at the ankles. My vintage purple boots (dating back to the mid nineties, the era just before parabolic shaped skis) are exceptionally stiff so I have loosened the buckles to allow for a bit more flexibility. At high noon I’m feeling great! “Demolition Man” by the Police is blaring inside my helmet and I’m flying down the hill, when out of the corner of my eye a blur of orange passes my by – certainly those Spyder skins are property of the US Ski Team.
All morning I’ve been the fastest thing on this side of the mountain so I am excited by this speed devil and decide to follow his tracks. Woosh! Knees flexed and ankles flexed, I carve a beautiful S curve. Woosh! I start my next S curve when suddenly my head hits the ground and I’m sliding down the hill. My first instinct is to push out my skis to stop, but something deep inside overrides that instinct and instead, muscle memory from years of doing Poorna-Salabhasana (full locust) in yoga class kick in and I slide down the hill on my chest.
I don’t feel any pain when I finally do come to a full and complete stop, but something deep inside tells me that I shouldn’t stand up. A kindly couple brings me my poles and I ask the man if he can get Ski Patrol for me because I need the toboggan. Suddenly the pain kicks in, but not where I expected it. I knew this day would come, but I had expected the pain to be in the knee, shin on ankle. But the heel??? I can’t for the life of me figure out why I might have pain in the heel.
This incredible woman has experience with trauma – what luck! She looks me in the eye and assures me that she’ll stay until Ski Patrol arrives. She then explains that she is going to ask me a lot of questions to keep my mind off the pain- an excellent tactic! She’s originally from Germany, but now teaches history at Reno Community College and we share a common passion for diving in the Caribbean.
It’s unnerving to go down hill in the toboggan head first looking at the clear blue sky. At any moment it feels like I’m going to roll out, but I’m in good hands with Ski Patrol. I pretend it is a Disneyland ride and exclaim “Wee!” anytime we go over a bump and I really want to say “Ouch!”
I’ve convinced myself that it is only a sprain, so it seems over kill when they transfer me to a gurney. Waiting is unbearable and the pain keeps ratcheting up. I begin clawing at the walls and suddenly become very cold. A skillful hand with obvious experience manages to remove the ski boots without causing any additional pain.
The doctor reveals the results of the X-ray to me this way:
You are going to need surgery….. in about three days.”
She shows me the Xray and points out the sliver of bone and then traces a line a centimeter down where it should be. She explains that the heel should be perfectly round, but I can see a faint half moon shape that has pulled away from the bone and has shifted up.
The calcaneus (heel bone) is where the Achilles tendon attaches. I had heard of injuries involving a detached Achilles tendon, but in this case when the tendon stretched to far, instead of detaching, it broke the bone.
“Would you like a shot of morphine or some pills?”
“I would like what ever stops the pain quickest.”
Morphine is a wonderful thing.
Morphine instantaneously turns me into a happy go lucky chatter box. The first question I ask the nurse is: How will I get home? Which is followed by a surprised stare and
“Are you here alone?”
“Yes”
“You should be able to drive.”
“But.... I drive stick and there’s no way I can operate the clutch with this bandaged foot.... and it is about four hours to San Francisco”
While I am pondering the miracle of cell phones I am simultaneously dreading the call to my husband who is four hours away ….so I call Tiffany instead. Tiffany has one of those smiles that lights up a room and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather see right now. Also, she lives just down the road from the ski resort. As luck would have it, she just so happens to be enjoying a sun in the village on this day and is just steps away with her husband and one year old son.
With renewed courage I call my husband to giddily report that his worst nightmare has just come true. He immediately begins networking to find someone who is:
1. At Squaw right now
2. Is driving back to San Francisco tonight
3. Can drive stick
Within minutes he calls back to say he has located his coworker Vahid who is on the mountain and is willing and able to drive me home at the end of the day.
Yippee! I am truly blessed to be surrounded by friends, gentle care and the promise of a ride home.
Tiffany proposes that we go back to her place to relax. Her home is like something out of a fairytale -complete with a babbling brook winding through the front yard. I am released from the medical center with some Vicodin and a shiny new pair of crutches.
Challenges
Challenge #1
Whoa! Crutches in the snow – how’s that for baptism by fire … and ice?
Advice: Go slow!
Challenge #2
Stairs! There are few small steps at Tiffany’s house, but luck strikes again! Tiffany’s husband, a veteran skier is also a veteran crutch user! He patiently teaches me how to balance the crutches on a step and then hop up. I find going down easier: balance on a lower step and swing down.
These skills will become invaluable in the weeks ahead.
And then the most memorable moment of the whole day: Tiffany treated me to best grilled cheese sandwich ever! I don’t know why that was the highlight of the day. Perhaps because this was such a comforting gestures in a time of need? Perhaps it was just a damn good sandwich!
Warm, cheesy, toasty... love!
Challenge #3
Finding someone out of context is tricky. I’m sure I’ve met Vahid at a formal company event before, but… I’m pretty sure he’s not wearing a suit and tie today. Tiffany drives to the meet up location and miraculously after just a few minutes I make eye contact with someone who seems to be scanning the sea of cars. “Vahid?” I yell. Indeed it is him!
Home is only a few hours away!
Challenge #4
A four hour dive home is never fun, but I can’t wait to be home. The nurse said that if I had automatic I should be able to drive myself home, so I assume that I’ll be able to endure the ride home shotgun…. Right? An hour into the ride home the morphine wear off. I take some Vicodin and it becomes suddenly apparent that it’s not in the same pain killing league as morphine. Finally I have to admit that I need to be in the back seat. Fortunately there’s lots of fluffy ski gear to prop my foot up and I discover the magic of elevating the foot. I also utilize the tactic the kind German woman taught me earlier in the day.
Chattering away keeps the brain’s focus off the pain.
Challenge #5
More stairs. I love the city view from my house, but not on this night. The three flights of stairs that I so effortlessly run up and down every day now seem like an impossible task. The pain takes my breath away leaving very little energy for hopping up the stairs on one leg. My husband, JP, desperately wants to help, but there’s no way I’m letting him carry me up the stairs -piggy back or otherwise. I decide to go with the backwards crab method. It takes tremendous effort to keep my leg elevated while climbing the stairs backwards so I cross my leg (injured leg on top) and push off with my good leg. I make it up the stairs and crawl to the couch.
There's no place like home.
