As you may know, depending on who you are, I broke my wrist on March 30, 2013. I did this while skiing at Cranmore mountain in North Conway, NH with my very new boyfriend Collin and his friend Brent. It was a gorgeous early spring day in NH and I was just up visiting for the week because I hadn’t moved up here quite yet. We had free lift tickets that Collin had somehow scored and were feeling pretty invincible overall. Naturally, what happened next was a direct result of that giddy feeling. I stopped paying attention, went over a headwall, and yardsaled right under the main chairlift.
After getting patched up at the hospital – a mostly hilarious experience due to our ski-bumminess and the morphine they gave me- we headed off to Easter dinner at Collin’s parent’s house. Of note, this was my first time meeting them as his girlfriend. We had a lovely meal altogether after getting over the shock and awe of what I’d managed to do to myself that day. I won’t say that the morphine didn’t play a big role in my extremely good mood.
When we got back to Collin’s college apartment, the morphine was wearing off and I was starting to feel a little cranky and defiantly independent. Collin came into the bathroom to find me balancing my freshly broken arm on my flamingo-ed leg while trying to turn on the lights. I quote, “Are you f*cking kidding me, Katherine?” The following picture he took just moments after this interaction and I think he would say that, to date, it is still his favorite picture of me. Every time he sees it he chuckles a little and says “you punk.”
2 casts, 1 move, and a college graduation later I was cast-less and living in NH with Collin. We both agree that it was pretty damn lucky, that Week of the Splint, that we had already been friends for years before dating. There were a lot of barriers that we’d already broken down and a lot that we were comfortable with saying to each other. Like when I told me I was an idiot for trying to turn the lights on by myself. Or when I needed help doing my hair in the morning because I only had one hand. I’m not sure many 2 week old relationships could have handled such a traumatic event as well as we were able to.
Last week, Labor Day, Collin and our two friends did the Presidential traverse (10 peaks, 9,000′ elevation gain, 12 hours). I went along for support, although I admit, it was semi-grudgingly. I didn’t join them for the traverse and, instead, spent the day in N. Conway, NH. I won’t say it was the most exciting day because it wasn’t. But it did give me the opportunity to get the below picture which felt pretty great.
That is my manicured hand flipping off a blurry Cranmore in the distance (in case that wasn’t obvious). The point of this post is mostly the humor of it because flipping things off is funny and that whole day, 3/30/13, as terrible as it was, was also pretty funny. The point of this post is also to acknowledge that shit things sometimes happen but they show you a) your own strength, endurance, perseverance, and what you can and absolutely cannot do one handed b) that your friends and family are there for you no matter what stupid thing you did (Thanks Mom, Dad, and Church Street!) c) and that you really should try to be more careful next time because you’re not invincible, you idiot.
THEN: Collin was my best friend and great under pressure.
NOW: Ditto and so much more.
THEN: I was 100% fearless on a mountain
NOW: I got back up to 85% fearless by the end of the season but really, nothing is worth breaking a bone again and I have kind of a pathological fear of falling down.
THEN: I flipped the bird really well.
This has been a weird and fun blog post! Sorry for all the cursing, Mom.