On Thin Ice

I am typing this post with my one good hand, and my one severely bruised, aching hand. Folks, I fell on the ice. And the hardest part? It was self-inflicted. I put myself if the position to fall, hard, on a big ol' slab of ice.

My friend texted me yesterday morning as I was taking my girl to school, asking if we would like to go ice skating with her and her two sweet, adorable kiddos. Of course I said yes. This open skate thing is a smokin' deal, as in FREE. Free skate rental, free ice time. I was reasonably excited, tempered only by the fact that I have not put my feet in skates for 20 years.

When I was a girl, I couldn't wait for winter. We had a small pond near our house, and as soon as my parents decided it was frozen enough, I strapped on my skates and glided across the ice for hours at a time. Winter Olympics were my favorite thing in the world, namely the figure skating. I begged my mother for the same colored skates the women wore, convinced that if I had those, I could become the next Nancy Kerrigan. But apparently, they were not available in Small Town USA, and since this was before the dawn of the internet, I had to kiss my dreams of Olympic Gold goodbye.

Fast-forward 20 years. I put on my size 9 skates, walked ever-so-gracefully out to the rink, then baby-step skated around the perimeter of the rink for the first half hour, keeping a death grip on the wall the entire time. When I felt reasonably comfortable leaving the wall, I ventured toward the middle of the ice. Four year old kids were flying by me. I was wobbling and flailing my arms, do my level best to stay upright. After a good 15 minutes, I started feeling confident and increased my speed to snail. I was cruising along, talking to my friend, when all of a sudden things went south, in a hurry. Namely me. One moment I was upright, then next I was not. On the way down I thought, "Ohnothisisgonna..." THUD! "OHGOODLORDITHURTS!!! I KNEW IT WOULD, AND IT DOES!!!! IS THERE A CHIROPRACTOR IN THE HOUSE?! I'M PRETTY SURE I JUST FRACTURED MY COCCYX! AN INTERNIST, PERHAPS?! YEAH, I'M CERTAIN I'VE RUPTURED MY SPLEEN!!"

When I was young and flying across the ice, I was fearless. Sure I fell, a lot. But I got right back up, never thinking twice about the bumps and bruises. Now I'm afraid to fall. Mostly because I know it's gonna hurt, and it's gonna hurt for a long time. No jumping right back up for me these days...

But, I got back up, with the help of my friend, and got right back on that ice horse, taking dozens more laps around the rink before calling it a night. When we got home, I examined my extensive injuries. Well okay, injury. When I fell, I landed on the flat of my hand, sending my wrist bones up into my shoulder. I hit so hard, my knit gloves left a pattern of tiny blood blisters where the threads were jammed into the heel of my hand. I had a purple bruise the size of a quarter in the middle of my wrist. It was throbbing. Still, I felt like a bit of a baby.

When my husband came home, I showed him my battle scars, and his face went dead serious. Folks, my husband was a Navy Corpsman, translation medic. He was Doc. Doc's training was fairly extensive, but clearly did not include Sensitivity to BooBoos. If you have an infected toenail you want removed, Doc's your man. Heck, he'll take all ten if you ask. But a wicked paper cut? You're on your own. So when Doc's face turned serious, and he started studying my wrist intently, I knew this was no ordinary owie. He had me moving my hand, turning my arm, wiggling my fingers, and his concern seemed to be growing. Finally satisfied I would make it through the night, he said, "Well, I guess we'll know in the morning." Well, it's morning, and we know. It hurts. My range of motion is about one quarter of normal. But I have mustered, and vowed to push through the pain.

And this morning, The Girl asked when we could go skating again. My self-preservation instinct kicked in and I replied, "Oh, we'll see, maybe in a month, when Mommy's recovered..." We'll be back on the ice in a week, I'm afraid.