Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Second Honeymoon


Spouse is in surgery right now and I'm a nervous wreck! HOWEVER, I'm a nervous wreck with internet access.

As I sit in lobby of strangers brought together by broken bones (we're at an orthopedic specialty hospital), I'm filled with the desire to document our second honeymoon. Which coincidentally began with an accident (and is missing a few crucial elements of a honeymoon - if you know what I mean).

March 26, 2008 - it was day like any other day. Except Spouse had taken the day off to ski (boss of spouse was schmoozing other software engineers in India). Spouse had arranged to take some friends skiing. They have a Yahoo the same age as our oldest Yahoo and it was going to be a "fun, easy day with the kids."

The trouble is our Yahoo likes the terrain park. And when Spouse sees the terrain park, he must take kickers and get what the kids these day refer to as "air". He's done it a 100 times this year (not exact but you get the picture). And I've seen him get "air" on this particular kicker probably 50 of those hundred times.

On what was to be the last run of the day (accident or not), Spouse stopped at the top of the terrain park located on a run called "Jonsey's". There were three relatively small jumps all in a row. He was going to hit all three (like he had done a few times that day). The Yahoo and I are at the top watching.

Spouse takes first jump. No problem. He takes the kicker to the second jump and gets some GIANT air. So giant that he overshot the landing by about 3 feet and landed on the flat. See the way these daredevils take the jumps, you're supposed to land going DOWN, so that the whole inertia gravity thing (or whatever) is going with you instead of against you (if it's flat).

Spouse disappears. I hear SLAP. And not just any slap. A slap worthy of putting twelve wife beaters away for life. Seriously that loud. So I get this strange stomach ache and say to Yahoo "we better check on Dad." We head down, Yahoo skis on past him (laying on his hands and knees) and I stop.

My original assessment (as a software chap) was he's okay. He is laughing - but the giggles are interjected between complaints of some "numb heels." After a few minutes I convince him to get a ride down so as not to ruin anything further.

Spouse takes a ride in a toboggan. Yahoo and I meet him down at the U of U medical tent where we quickly discuss insurance logistics with the nurse (before figuring out if he's okay and it's not really a tent). The nurse says we don't take your insurance and Spouse say fine we'll pay cash (ouch!)

Being as Yahoo will most likely drive us nuts chasing the avalanche rescue dog, we send him home with the friends (bless their hearts). Spouse is wheeled off to x-ray and I wait. My spot for waiting happened to be within ear shot of where the x-rays are read.

The mood in the place was light. Everyone was making fun of my 43 year-old Spouse in the terrain park. I hear the flapping of x-ray plastic and then "Oh Crap" and then "That Sucks" and then "Go x-ray his back". It's important to note that no time elapsed between the rattling of plastic and the "Oh Craps" and the "That Sucks". There was no discussion. There was no pencil following the lines of bones, shadows, etc.

Then I cried. It wasn't one of those dainty tear down the cheek cries. It was a bunch of those prune face, wrinkled nose, hyena-gasping-for-air cries. I was in a room full of nurses, doctors, ski patrollers, patients (who came in on back boards but walked out) and dogs!

Now the skinny little nurse with gray spiked hair gives me a hug and tells me I need to be in there with him when they unload the news. Yeah right. Send the losin' it wife in there to comfort him. I had visions of her shaking me like a coconut and screaming that I need to get it together. She didn't. She looked at me above her shallow reading glasses and said "he's being very brave."

Two crushed heels no tears? Undeniably brave.

For one long dreary day, we had doubts about him walking again (thanks to the orthopedic surgeon on call at the hospital). After that day, our night in shining armor, Dr. Drew Van Boerum walked in and told us he could fix his feet. He's had more challenging cases and he's fixed over 150 calcaneus fractures. Spouse will need several weeks in a wheel chair, but he'll walk and ski and play just like before.

We returned home to loads of people with concern. They brought meals, they took Yahoos so that we could adjust to the situation. They built us a ramp in the garage. They brought treats, flowers, balloons and called with words of encouragement. We are so loved

And speaking of love. This whole mess has made me fall in love with Spouse all over again. He is my everything. My heart skips a beat now each time he adoringly speaks or looks at me and his touch is electric.

A second honeymoon indeed. Except now I get to push him around more.


Winder said...

Love the blog. I just hope that I don't have a "Second Honeymoon" like yours with my dear hubby.

Becca said...

You tell a bad story so well. Also, I think this honeymoon might just be more memorable than the first. I am glad that things are going to be OK-let me know if you need anything!

The McMillans said...

We love your family. We know, that you all will be closer as a family after this. You are right, "honeymoons" are really about intimacy...I guess this experience describes a different kind.