Like most other people out there, I'd like to believe that I am making progress of some sort or another in my life. Sadly, the older I get the more I find my self repeating the same cycle over and over ad nauseum. I thought I'd made a big leap forward in the past twelve months. Afterall, I finally came to the realization that I was not cut out for office work, or tour guiding work, or social work (as it turns out possibly not cut out for work of any sort). In any case. I guess what I'm trying to say is I've made some huge changes in my life, and you would think it would follow that as a result I would break free of past cycles. Except, apparently not. I haven't checked, but I'm pretty sure that last year, just about this exact time, I was sitting down to type out a blog about my repeatedly sprained left ankle. I'm happy to report my left ankle is just fine folks. The swelling never did go away completely, but whatever. I'm happy enough that it's functional and supports all my weight without any pain. So no sob story about sprains. Oh no. This year I'd like to tell you the tale of a how I twisted my knee and concussed myself, all in the same 48 hour period... So. Last Thursday I head up the mountain, all glad that it was snowing and having a grand old time. Sure, I couldn't see more than two feet in front of me, but I actually think that's why I was nailing all my turns (I couldn't see down the impossibly steep mountain, therefore I was not afraid to point my snowboard towards certain doom). All went well until I tried to get on the Whiskey jack chair for another run down the hill, at which point in time I somehow managed to spin around so I was facing the chair as it sped towards me. I had visions of missing teeth and fractured jaws, but I managed to recover my footing. Mostly. My board caught in the snow and I twisted my knee rather painfully. Thus ended what otherwise would have been a perfect night of boarding. I was pretty gimpy the next day so I took Friday as a day of rest, ignoring Tyler's advice to "ride it off" (I'm pretty sure that only works when you're nineteen years old). Still, Saturday rolled around and I was feeling pretty good, so off I went. I was doing pretty good, trying to get in as many runs as possible before heading to the college art show. I check my watch, 7:30. Time for two more runs. I decide the green run's probably best, I can work on my turns. I ignore the man standing outside the Mountain Tek yelling at his son to "shut the hell up and get over here", crank my ipod, strap on my board, and I'm off... All goes well for about 50 metres. I turn around, catch an edge, fall. And holy feckin' shit I hit the ground like a ten megaton nuclear bomb, right on my head. God it hurt. Cringe. I empty my stomach (so glad I stopped at McShits on the way up), and slowly, slowly, sit up. Pretty sure I'm swearing a blue streak by this point in time. And there up at the top of the trail is the family who'd been shouting at one another as I left, all standing around and staring at me. Bastards just turn around and leave. So I take off my helmet and check for any obvious dents or holes in the back of my skull, unstrap my board, limp back to the car. Somehow manage to take my boots off. Get in the driver's seat and flip open my phone to check the time. Realise I can read it with my right eye only. 7:44 p.m. I try again with my left eye, it reads 7: 4, a bright white spot obliterates the middle of anything I look at. But I figure what the hell, I can see good enough out of my right eye, I can do this. I set off down the mountain, the lights from the ski runs leaving jagged, flashy trails of red and blue light across my vision. So I go slowly, and it takes me a good 40 minutes to make a 20 minute drive. I head straight to the clinic only to find it's closed, but since the supermarket's right there and I'm out of milk, I make a little stop. Buy the milk, get some pineapple juice (an impulse buy that made perfect sense at the time), and decide that I should also check out the art show, since I went to the trouble of submitting a couple of pieces. Run into a few classmates, but can't stand the god awful noise and light of the place so I leave. In the parking lot I run into an old teacher and his wife, and after a rather confused conversation with them I decide that really I should go to the hospital. So I do, only to sit there for two hours, trapped in the noisy hell that all emergency wards seem to be. Doctor threatens to keep me overnight, so I lie, tell him I'm going to a friend's. At this point in time I'd be happy to die if only it means I don't have to listen to the other patients and the nurses... Worst moment of the night: I phone my mother, tell her what's happened. Listen to her say "I told you so". Not in so many words, but you get my drift... I'm happy to say I'm on the mend. Tired all the time, still have a headache and the occasional moment of vertigo, it hurts to laugh, or cough... Sneezing is excruciatingly painful. But still. At least I can see out of my left eye again. And I'm looking forward to the weekend. Another chance to go boarding. I thought it only appropriate that for this post's picture I feature the helmet that probably saved my life. I don't think I would have walked away from this one if I hadn't been wearing it. Best $33.00 I ever spent in my life. Never mind that when I wear it I look like I should be riding the short bus...
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