The X-Games at the age of 40: How my Ego was Bruised and Left to Die a Painful Death

Hello To all My TalezfromaBroad Readers!

Let me start with how badly I have been slacking at writing new material these last couple of weeks but in my defense its not my fault…well not entirely. A few weeks ago I wrote a Blog Posting called “My Winter Action Plan: A List of 9 Anti Seasonal Affective Disorder Tips You Can Try.”

I tackled #2 of my action plan with such ferocity, determination and good intention. In fact I went for it so hard that I cracked my ribs about 3 runs in, and was benched by noon at the lodge for the remainder of the day. Why I didn’t buy a half day pass is beyond me, and what’s laughable, is I was actually exhausted by the end of the first run. Muscle memory would require a few more trips before I could pull a full dayer, but Muscle Memory wasn’t the only thing that left me abandoned on those slopes that day. So did the illusion that falling at 42 was going to be the same as falling in my 20’s. This was hands down the worst injury I have ever had in my life, and I have done some stupid shit in this crazy life of mine. I’ve jumped off ski lifts into powder filled cliffs, gone back country riding, heli-boarding…you name it, I was balls to the wall.

Part of my determination around tackling this list too was that I now had readers holding me accountable…so I blame you too. *If you feel an ounce sorry I’m accepting Wine Subscriptions and Cheese.

So lets go back to the day of doom where my ego was murdered and smeared on the side of a Green Run Sunshine Village. I was fresh off the lift, I had just adjusted my boots and bindings as I was starting to get a good feel for my new equipment. My group had gone ahead a bit as I had a few more tweaks to make just as they had pushed off. I was in a tuck just prior to my epic bail and as my knees extended upwards I caught an edge that had planted me with such a force comparable to what felt like a freight train hitting a mouse… I was the mouse…flat and gasping for any kind of breath I could take. My diaphragm had begun to involuntarily take control of my lungs, forcing these horrific heaving sounds, as if Emily Rose’s Demons were exiting my body. As I got onto all fours still heaving, I could see someone coming down the run towards me on a board. For someone near death this typically would be a beacon of light!

No description available.

You want to know what happened next?

Instead of hailing down the approaching beacon of light, I held what little breath I had in me out of embarrassment. I was just too humiliated that I had fallen so badly that I was now injured. I felt as if I could mind of matter the reality of the situation and trick my body out of what had already occurred. I’m sure this was the concussion and adrenaline talking. So despite needing some medical attention, my stubborn ass thought perhaps I could get down on my own once I could figure out this breathing thing. Never mind that it felt like my breasts had been torn off on the icy tracks about 8 meters back, and quite frankly had decided they could stay there.

I must have sat there for a good half hour, just trying to regulate and assess where my body’s capacity for movement was at. Most definitely I was in shock, that’s for sure, because I was able to ride my board to the bottom of the longest run in life. I managed to unclip and carry my board to the nearest bar The Mad Trappers Saloon where I couldn’t wait to check and see if I still had boobies still. My group was there wondering what had happened and where I had gone. I filled them in, and I ate, drank, 1,2,3,4,5 beers, until I figured I could head back up the mountain with some delusional hope. I mean I had a full days pass, that was expensive. By Beer #5, things were not improving, and neither was my buzz. You’d think by then I’d figure out that indeed, I was very badly hurt, but I’m stubborn and to be honest I had been immune to injury up until this point in my middle aged life. To be honest the reason I decided to leave the lodge was that my phone was running out of juice and I knew I’d have to drive home still, which was a 2 hour drive from the mountain. Time was of the essence as my body continued to swell and ache by the hour.

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The Mad Trappers Speak Truth!

Fast forward to when I get home where I am greeted by my family who intuitively knew I was hurt. I thought I had been uncharacteristically void of my typical dramatics. Perhaps that was the “Tell” that gave it away, as I had no energy left to be remotely extra about the pain I was in. The stiffness and swelling had really sunk in after the long and uncomfortable journey home. I had told the RCMP officer all about it who had let me out of a ticket as I had been pulled over for erratic driving. You see I explained to him I was just old and trying to re-live my 20’s on a snowboard, which he appropriately let me off after he asked about the conditions and whether or not I had fun.(Only in Canada Eh!)

Once home, I crawled up the stairs, took some Tylenol and advised my boyfriend I was “all good, probably just bruised some giblets.” That night was the worst I’ve ever experienced as gravity presented itself as if Fat Bastard himself had decided to take a seat on my chest and kick up his feet for the night. By morning my boyfriend was shuttling me to emergency, where I conceded finally to the fact that indeed I was badly injured. No Beer, Nor Denial, Nor Tylenol would be able to persuade me otherwise any further.

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Trying to Rally Here…

Sure enough we got in fairly quickly, X-Rays done, and advised that they saw no breaks but couldn’t tell if there were fractures either, not that it matters because did you know there is nothing they can actually do anyways. I pretty much had known this as I had google diagnosed myself at 4 am when I was looking to see if broken ribs could be fatal. Broke Ribs no, but apparently collapsed/punctured lungs yes. Hmmm good to know for next time I fall. I was sent home to rest, take Ibuprofen, and make sure I try to take big breaths to prevent from getting pneumonia in my lungs from the limited air I could take in. They didn’t even give me any good pain pills- just a swift kick out the exit doors. That was the only thing I was actually looking forward too. It was like going to a birthday party with no goodie bags. So I’ve been Tripling down Advil every 4-6 hours since last week.

Here I am 10 days later, and I am struggling by the end of the day. Walking around seems okay until one needs to push a grocery cart, drive, roll out of bed, roll into bed, reach over to wipe your ass. At least I can take full breaths now. I will never take breathing with full lung capacity for granted again, god as my witness. Last week in my ignorance I had said I’d be back on the slopes in a couple weeks but I’m definitely going to be another 3-4 weeks.

So hopefully you all will accept my minor set back as I continue to try tackling the other things on my winter action plan. I hope to get writing too again some exciting new Talez as I heal up and avoid any major risky activities. And while I feel annoyed by the discomfort and how this injury is impeding on my agenda to grab life by its lady balls, I can appreciate how my body has come through this and protected me yet again.

I will leave you all with this quote I came across that is so very true.

“Old age is meant to slow us down just before the final destination; otherwise reaching the stop would be too abrupt.” – On Old Age”

― Lamine Pearlheart, To Life from the Shadows

2 thoughts on “The X-Games at the age of 40: How my Ego was Bruised and Left to Die a Painful Death

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