Funny story. It's Christmas Eve and we're all up in the Adirondacks getting ready for the big day. Everybody's going skiing at Gore Mtn and I decide to take Jake out for his first lesson. I haven't been skiing in 15 years, and only in the powdery and forgiving snow of Colorado, but after I get skis on, it seems to come back to me. Jake wasn't really in the mood to learn that day, but I was having a blast on the bunny hill, and feeling like it was just yesterday that I was skiing black diamonds in Aspen. We took a break for lunch and then Uncle Bob (here's where I would post a link to a blog entry about our near tragedy in the Pacific Ocean, but that was back before blogs) suggested I head up the mountain and ski with the big boys. At the time, I couldn't think of any better way to spend a sunny December afternoon.
We head down the slopes and I'm feeling great. But Bob points out that I'm snowplowing and need to keep the skis parallel. That sounds familiar so I put them together and start to remember how to turn. But something's different. Where is the powder up to my knees? What's all this icy snow doing here? Before long, I'm face down and feeling pain everywhere, but mostly in my right hand. I go to stand up and my thumb does not agree with the plan.
I made it down the mountain and for some reason decided to take the gondola up for another run. This time, I'm realizing my thumb is toast. I get down to the bottom again and head for the bar. An ice water for my thumb, and a nut brown ale for me.
Ali's Dad Mike takes me to the hospital, about 40 minutes away and they do X-Rays and confirm the break. It's still lined up, but I'll need to keep it in a splint so it heals properly. It's about 7:30pm by now and we're headed back to the lodge. I get the cellphone to call and let them know we're headed back and to see what we've been missing on Christmas Eve.
The phone rings and rings. It took a while for someone to answer, because Ali, expecting our call, had run to the phone and badly stubbed her toe on a table. And had broken it. The toe, not the table. No, I'm not kidding.
Of course, they didn't know at the time whether it was broken. When we finally got back to the lodge, Ali was being fed shots of whiskey and the Uncles were convincing her that they could manually correct the errant toe. We headed right back to the hospital.
The ER docs and nurses are probably still chuckling about us. They didn't even try to keep straight faces when we showed up with the second broken bone. And when the doctor found out we had two toddlers he really lost it. "So, how are you going to take care of them?? You can't walk and you can't carry anything! HAHAHHAHA!!!" It was a Christmas miracle that we were able to give these poor ER workers such amusement with our wounds. Isn't that the true spirit of Christmas?
Today we had our follow-up visit with the orthopaedist (why do they insist on the funny Greek spelling? It's not like we take the kids to Paediatricians) and we brought laughter and happiness to a whole new office of medical professionals. "Oh we couldn't wait when we saw that you were both coming in. What happened? Who beat up who? Did a thumb wrestling match go horribly wrong?"
Ali's Dad likes to call the whole episode a "Love Story," which I think is the best spin anyone could possibly put on this comedy of errors.
Here's to a healthy 2010!
Oh, Christmas was a blast, besides the injuries. Here are a few pictures from our trip to Warrensburg NY, including the crazy 80's party we had on 12/26. And here's a video of Jake playing his new drumset!!
