28 - A Ski Trip Gone Awry

   Quite a few years ago, we took our French foreign exchange student skiing at Sugar Bowl in Tahoe. Paul's much more advanced than Alan and me, so sometimes he'd go off skiing independently. Paul was visiting briefly, so I talked Alan into skiing with him after lunch. We didn't realize he had taken a lift with which we were unfamiliar. We glanced at the sign; Paul had headed down, a double diamond, an expert slope. (I only saw one diamond, honest.) You thought I was worried about Paul? Nope.   But Alan and I looked at each other as if to say, what is he thinking? Alan was very concerned about our skiing capabilities. But for some odd reason, I looked at the terrain and thought, heck, we can do this. 

 

We've skied steep before. Honest.

    Surprisingly, there wasn't the blustering biting wind on this side of the mountain. We skied about  70 feet down and stopped, realizing it was all powder, not compacted like the other slopes. This issue made it much more challenging to see the terrain. But that wasn't what scared us. The topography had changed. We were now standing on the edge of a cliff, at least to us non-expert skiers, looking straight down. Alan shook his head and told Paul, "This is way above our level." I nodded my head in agreement. 

   Paul suggested, "Why don't you take your boots off and walk back up?" And blasted down the slope.

   I perused the incline behind us, and all I thought of was how much more work that would be, whether we took our skis off or kept them on and side step up. So I finally looked at Alan and told him, "Let's try it. We've skied diamonds before." 
      Alan looked worried. "I don't know...." His eyebrows furrowed. I'll let you make a choice." 

      I thought a second, then said, "I think we can do it."

     "You don't always have to be the Tom Boy. You aren't competing with your brothers."

     "Alan, we've gone down worse."

    

     As I traversed the mountain, I worked on not freaking out and using positive self-talk. I was doing okay, no, I didn't look like a pro, but I took chances when I felt comfortable and skied straight down for about 100 feet. Poor Alan was yelling (He's the vocal one.) each time he fell or was about to fall. Suddenly,  I started heading straight down too quickly for my comfort,  so I turned my skis to the right, but my left ski hit something and started soaring to the left. My ski somehow fell off, then popped! Oh, shit! I thought. That loud sound had come from my left knee. Balancing on my right ski for about ten more feet, trying to slow down, finally, I  fall back onto the snow to stop my body from catapulting down the mountain anymore. I attempted to stand up, but there was no way I could put weight on that left leg. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt one bit; it just didn't feel like it was my leg. I attempted to stand up again, but my right rubber leg wouldn't let me, so I dropped back onto the snow.

    To make a long story short. Went to emergency and got a brace as I fractured my tibia near my kneecap. A day later, Alan drove me to Kaiser in Woodland Hills to see an orthopedic doctor who told me he was very lucky. He shared that I could be in a brace for two months if things went well. But as I hobbled out of the room, he walked up to me and said. "I don't want you to think there's still no possibility of surgery. In two weeks, we'll see how well you heal. Okay?" I nodded at the tall, gentle dark-eyed doctor while saying to myself, I won't need surgery. Six weeks in and no surgery. Crutches for a little while and therapy for about six months. Yup, I felt very lucky.
    I wasn't upset when all this shit hit the fan, but I must admit this feeling was new and strange. The old Tina would have been mad at me because I had made a poor decision to ski down that insanely steep mountain. The old Tina would have been furious because I'd have to cancel my workout dates with the trainer, and going up and downstairs in our house was difficult. But I was resolved to my temporary alteration in my routine. 

     I thought, wow, I've learned to go with the flow.   And then I laughed, realizing that's the title of one of Alan's songs. I've always had difficulty when something new bounces in and changes what I think should happen. I like to have control over my life. As a diligent parent, I could help Kyle quit drugs and make Nicole happy. But I only made myself crazy and a worse parent. But now, I'm not that person anymore. I've finally batted that nasty habit out of the baseball stadium. Although, I must admit it sure was delicious not to get upset. Anger and regret seriously change NOTHING, so why get pissed or cry over spilled milk. (My beautiful mom's favorite saying.)