Ok, since I’ve had a little time to recover, I figured I’d finally write about my weekend.
Warning: the following post is not for the faint-hearted.
Friday: People from my fellowship group came over and we had a taco night. Bad season for tacos because lettuce and tomatoes are extremely expensive at the grocery stores. We just hung out and watched Bubble Boy. That’s a pretty funny movie, although I didn’t get to watch too much of it because I was trying to finish some stuff around the house.
Saturday: I had to wake up around 5:45am to go snowboarding with Nut (real name John), Liz, and some of Nut’s friends from his church. I couldn’t tell if it was still dark because the sun wasn’t up yet, or if it was because my eyes wouldn’t open all the way. The snow was pretty icy in the morning. After we got off one of the lifts, there was a flat area that felt just like a skating rink. That’s how icy it was. Around lunchtime, Liz went back to the lodge, but Nut and I found a few runs that were pretty good and powdery so we decided to keep going.
As we were getting off one of the lifts, one we hadn’t been on previously, we somehow collided. I felt myself being pulled to my knees. The next thing I knew, his snowboard had knocked me in the head. I held my head for a minute, thinking that I should probably get out of the chairlift’s path. I thought the pain would die down after a few minutes and I could get back up. But the pain persisted so I didn’t dare let go of my head. Nut kept asking me if I was ok. I couldn’t respond because my head was throbbing so badly. I threw off my goggles and my wool hat. As my hat fell to the ground I saw the inside of my hat. There was a huge red spot the size of my fist. Blood kept dripping off my head like a faucet, so I tried applying more pressure to my head. Wow, my first-aid training DOES come in handy! Blood was dripping all over the snow. And you thought yellow snow was bad, I made red snow.
The ski patrol came and tended to me. I didn’t know who was standing around and looking at us, but they were probably quite amused. The lady ended up putting a sanitary pad atop my hair, and wrapped a cravat around the top of my head and around my chin. They took me down in a sled…for the second time in my life. When they take you down the mountain in a sled, people can’t help but stare. I finally knew how it felt to be like a caged animal at the zoo, except I had a white scarf-like tie around my head with a pad on top. At the ski patrol headquarters, I found that the blood had soaked completely through my gloves. When I finally went to see the doctor, he basically gave me a few shots of novacaine, shaved off some hair, and put 8 staples on my head. I guess they don’t usually use stitches for scalp injuries. So that’s it. Looking back, it could have been much worse. I didn’t have a concussion, and even with the amount of blood loss, I didn’t lose consciousness nor did I feel dizzy at all!
I don’t claim to be good at sports, I just enjoy them. I think I’m good enough…for a girl! But events such as these make me wonder why I keep doing the things I do. Is it worth it? I wonder how professional athletes decide when it’s time to retire–when they get injured too often? The staples come off in about 2 weeks. Pray for fast healing and no brain damage.