fall from grace

"you want to go biking in whistler?" the facebook message asked.

"sure, sounds like fun." i replied.

we drove up the sea to sky highway, my brother eric and i, happily anticipating a day of bonding over full suspension bikes. after strapping on full body armour and cramming on my full face helmet, i turned to face the bottom of the hill. giant jumps and ramps faced me. tachycardia set in.

"do i have to ride those?"

"no, those are for crazy people" came the reply.

phew.

we started out with a green run. fun, but easy. i wanted a challenge. eric led me down a blue run that involved teeter-toters and elevated boardwalks. getting better. we headed to another blue run, crank-it-up, and that we did. i had never ridden anything like it. the successive jumps felt like a self-propelled roller coaster. natural endorphins being released.

"let's do it again" i said.

"we'll do this a couple more times, warm you up for a-line, the most infamous downhill trail. and then i'll get you a t-shirt"

it started out well. i felt comfortable, getting some air, but under control. i was looking forward to the roller coaster ride. one small jump, getting a little bigger, under control.

then suddenly...

i am suspended, floating, seemingly trapped in time. where's my bike?

"this is not going to be pretty"

bump, bump, bump, bump, bump.

my helmet hitting the ground, body grinding to a halt in the dirt.

open your eyes. open your eyes. open your eyes.

open.

okay, i am conscious. that's good.

okay, wiggle your toes. wiggle.

move your fingers. move.

spine pain? back pain? no.

okay, get off the trail before you are run over.

where are my shoes? my shoes came off? oh boy, this is not pretty.

a few riders stopped, my brother, not seeing me come, ran back up the trail. he saw me laying on the trail, shoes off.

i broke my little sister!! i broke my little sister!!

i moved to the side of the trail. blood draining from my face. cold. clammy. nausea.

"i'm going to throw up"

'okay why don't we sit you up" came a voice from beside me.

"no, i think i will lie in the recovery position" i reply.

take deep breaths. take deep breaths. nausea passed.

i feel something whoosh by my leg. another rider. he doesn't even slow down. almost runs me over but rides over my bike instead.

"okay, i feel better. i am going to move over"

a whistler first aid guy shows up, starts asssessing me. "what is your name?"

"alida fernhout, i am in whistler, b.c., the date is thursday, august 23, 2007"

he laughs, "you seem to know what you're doing"

"i'm a neuro-surg nurse. i have no numbness or tingling, strong x4"

"great! i have to fill out a few forms, ask you some dumb questions, bear with me"

nausea again. blood drains. cold. clammy.

"i have to throw up"

"go ahead, don't be shy"

don't be shy, i think. i am about to vomit on the side of a mountain with lots of people watching. don't be shy. i vomit.

"your heart rate is a little slow"

"how's the bike?" I ask.

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE BIKE!!" comes a chorus of voices.

we take off my arm guards and my right glove. my pinky finger is in a strange position. i think it's broken. but i can move my legs so i am happy.

i recover enough to walk off the trail to a waiting quad which takes me to a truck. load the bikes, head to the hospital.

"where do i put my bike?" i ask.

"quit worrying about the bike!" eric says .

it turns out this kind of thing happens often enough that the hospital has its own bike locks.

i am seen by a nurse, then a resident, then an xray tech (nausea again), then a doctor. i need to go to vancouver to see a plastic surgeon. my pinky hand bone broke, punctured the skin, then retreated back to its resting place.

back down the sky-to-sea highway. eric is worried. he thinks he broke me. i tell him not to worry. i am high on my own endorphins.

several hours later i see a resident. i ask him what year he is. i don't want a first year resident touching my hand. i am moving to africa in 10 days. he is second year. okay, you can assess my hand. finally a 4th year resident comes in.

"you will probably need surgery, but we will try to reduce it and see what happens"

see what happens. did i mention that i am moving off the continent in 10 days?

right before he reduces it, i find out the second year resident is actually an ears, throat, nose specialist. well, he has to learn somehow.

he reduces it. i didn't know my fingers were allowed to be moved like that . i kick my feet and take deep breaths even though my hand is frozen.

they splint it and send me for an xray. it is set perfectly.

"can't get better than that!" proudly announces the resident.

'great! can i go now?"

"good luck in kenya!"

my bones are still perfectly set, i can walk and i know who i am, and i am still headed to kenya... tomorrow.

and thus was my fall from grace.

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