This is a story with many layers. I submit it as a tribute to our knitblog and medical communities. Much of this was dictated by Mr. Etherknitter, who rejected the idea of co-blogging. I think he is shy.
We love to ski. It is exhilarating. By definition, it takes place in mountains. It turns the cold, dreary drudgery of winter into a pure, bright joy. Just read my previous post. (Foreboding music queues.)
On a beautiful, groomed slope at Deer Valley, Mr. Etherknitter and I were making simple, happy turns. It was stockinette stitch, if you will.
He hears a loud scritch in the snow, a yell. Impact. He is thrown forward 30 feet. Glasses and goggles flying, he spins to a stop. I had stopped to rest, and saw a chilling sight up the slope. A pile of skis and poles, in one spot, and a skier lying on the ground, black jacket, and tell-tale red boots.
Slowly, he moves, calls me on the cell.
"Are you okay?" "I don't know. Something is wrong with my knee. No. Not my knee. My leg is broken." "i'm coming up." The cell phone goes back in the fanny pack.
I'm screaming at him from downslope. "OPEN OR CLOSED?" "OPEN OR CLOSED?" Closed means the bone hasn't cut through the skin, and we can get it fixed in Boston. Open means the bone is through the skin. The clock starts ticking at the moment of injury, and it MUST be fixed within six hours to reduce the risk of infection.
"Open!" he yells down.
"FUCKFUCKFUCK" I scream. I see heads turn. They aren't the ones whose life has been irrevocably altered.
I climb up to him, uphill. I now completely understand oxygen debt. At first I hiked in skis, then I stopped, took them off, dug the toes of my boots into the steep slope, and stopped every three steps to try and breath. It took an eternity of ten minutes to reach him.
Ski patrol got there first. I can see as I climb that he is sitting up. That means his neck is okay. His head is probably okay.
With far more composure than I ever thought possible, I sat in the snow next to the assailant. A young man, sixteen years old, lying winded a few feet away. I don't yell. I don't berate. I just tell him:
"Now listen. You need to learn from this accident. You have to understand that you have altered my husband's life and my life for the foreseeable future, and you have made it into a nightmare. I want you to understand what you have done and use it to learn. I hope you heal well."
I really didn't, but I also didn't want ski patrol to shoo me away before I had a chance to make my point.
They splint Mr. Etherknitter's leg, bring him down to a waiting snowmobile. They take us to the ambulance at the base. I ride in front, he is in the back having an IV started. The ambulance crew puts in the backboard that was forgotten by ski patrol. I call back, "How is his oxygen saturation? Is he okay? Does he have neck pain? How are you, dear?" He is stable.
I feel so helpless. I have to find a surgeon who won't screw up his leg, and an anesthesiologist who won't kill him. I don't know anyone in the medical community here. I make a cellphone call to the chief of my department. His secretary says he is in a meeting and unavailable. "Missy, this is an emergency. I have to speak with him NOW."
He calls the chief of the anesthesia department at the University of Utah. I start hearing the same surgeon's name from multiple lips. I throw the dice, commit myself to the bet.
This is the part not for the squeamish. Really. It will take me a very long time to learn how to live with what I saw next. The staff takes the gauze off his sock. They cut the sock. His tibia has exploded through the front of his leg, created a six inch by three inch gash, with bone sticking out. He can't see yet what I see, and agrees to let them take off the ski boot. I tell him NO. I ask the nurse to give him morphine first. Several attempts at pulling the boot yields a dose of 20mg that finally has some effect. The boot is pulled off by SIX people. They are very good at what they do, but he almost passes out. As they take the boot off, and tip it to free his heel, blood pours out onto the stretcher from the boot. My sweet man. I can't let myself cry yet.
The chief of anesthesia comes down to the ER. He arranges for a wonderful clinician to take care of Mr. Etherknitter. He rearranges an extremely busy OR schedule and makes it possible for the operation to start before the timer runs out. I meet the surgeon. Young. Brash. From New York, and quoting data, studies, experience. Exuding confidence. I like him. GO.
It was the longest, loneliest, bleakest three hours of my life in the postsurgical waiting room. I couldn't call anyone because I couldn't cope with MY response OR theirs. Complete strangers saw the look on my face and reached out. When they found out I was alone, they hugged me. I was an unusual sight in the waiting room: ski jacket, ski pants and ski boots.
The surgeon and the chief of anesthesia rematerialize together. "Boy that was a pain in the ass to fix."
"What do you mean, 'a pain in the ass'?"
"It was a PAIN in the ass. He has really good muscle tissue and strong bone. I had to open another incision proximally (higher up) and reach in and yank it into place."
He described what he did. A large metal rod spans the whole tibia. Lots of screws. Complexities involving location of fracture relative to tendons, and what the limitations were. And are. Now, I can only cross my fingers, and trust in the Higher Ether. It's going to take months to heal, and to find out what we need to deal with next. He answers every single question, and I am satisfied.
So far, a bad story. A long, cautionary tale. But it's not the real story here.
Deep breath.
Mr. Etherknitter is trying to take it in stride. (His pun.) He dislikes being helpless and dependent. And there's a possibiity that future surgery may be necessary.
I start to understand PTSD. It will take some careful thought and an effort of will to go back to the slopes.
What I've really come to appreciate is our community. It was powerful in fun times (Rhinebeck, SPA, local get-togethers), but incredible in a crisis. You can't feel anything close to worthy. The condo didn't have internet access, so I went to the local internet cafe, and sent off three emails. A tidal wave of support and love swept over me, enfolded me, helped me.
Cassie made me take care of myself, talked me down, set me straight. Juno helped me feel normal. Claudia stepped in with sympathy and professional opinion. Marcia lent me her Park City son to help me move from the condo to the hospital room, a drive of about 20 miles. Margene opened her heart and herself to whatever I might need. The email support has been stunning in sympathy and generosity. Mr. Etherknitter was moved to help write this story.
Tom, son of Marcia, chauffeur extraordinaire, below. He actually managed to stuff a week's worth of ski luggage into a Mazda RX-7. Amazing.
Once you look up from your feet, you see the sun. I can't begin to list my saviours. Our knitbloggers. The hospital staff. Our neighbors. Even the ski resort.
So today, it all seems feasible. I plan to sit with the DH while he snoozes, and I knit. He likes that.
I am crying. Not simply from the story of your husband's (and your) ordeal, but from the story of support from your knitblogging family - not only those in Utah, but those much farther afield.
Winging my thoughts to you and Mr. Etherknitter, along with *hugs*.
Posted by: Chris | Saturday, March 18, 2006 at 11:58 PM
ohmyGod Laurie...sending healing thoughts your husband's way...
Posted by: JessaLu | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:13 AM
*hugs* I hope Mr Etherknitter's leg heals well and quickly!
Posted by: Andrea | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:23 AM
Goodness gracious!!! I'm sending you and your husband all the best wishes, and a speedy recovery! I see stretchers on the slopes all the time... sometimes even blood on the snow.. and I never want to know what happened for a reason! That story scared me shitless! I can only imagine what you're going through!
Posted by: grumperina | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:24 AM
You need the knit-signal - you check my site and upload it ;)
I see now that in your picture you have a helmet on...
Hugs to you. XOXOXO.... I'm sending good healing thoughts your way.
Posted by: Bookish Wendy | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:53 AM
Best wishes for a fast and full recovery for the Mr! It's comforting to know this knitting community extends far beyond our own imaginations and help is always there when needed the most.
Posted by: maggie | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 01:31 AM
Man. It sucks to have little or no control in an arena where you are so used to having it. I'll be thinking of you often, hoping you are both recuping as well as you can be. Hugs!
Posted by: Teresa C | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 01:45 AM
This is the most incredible story! Best wishes and healing thoughts, vibes, prayers to your man, and to you.
Posted by: Bethany | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 02:03 AM
The internet community has much more good about it than bad. I hope your husband heals quickly and that you both are o.k.
Posted by: Helen | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 06:23 AM
Chilling story! I'm sending good thoughts and best wishes for a speedy (and total) recovery. My best to both of you.
Posted by: Annie | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 06:33 AM
All I can say is "wow." I am glad that you were able to get recommendations for your surgeon. My prayers are with you and your dear hubby.
Posted by: Maryann | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 07:49 AM
Oh, shit! For the nasty broken leg. For the good stuff, I'm both grateful for you and Mr. Etherknitter and not surprised. For all the bad that the jerks among us throw into life, there is much quiet good going on. I'm sending lots of hugs your way and if you need some more yarn or fiber, just holler and send an address.
Posted by: Chris | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 08:02 AM
Oh Laurie! I had talked with Margene on Friday and I've been thinking of you all weekend. Thank god for the knitblogging community and that you're NOT ALONE out there. Huge healing vibes going out to Mr. Etherknitter! And HUGE HUGS TO YOU!
Posted by: Cara | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 08:22 AM
Oh Laurie! Poor Mr. Ether! How hard it must have been for you to watch from the wrong side of the fence on this one. I'm only a med student, but I already want to micromanage my parents' medical lives! I'm seding healing thoughts to your guy, and healing, speedy knitting thoughts to you!
Posted by: mia | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 08:48 AM
I knew most of the story and yet my heart was in my throat. The first part of the road will be rough but each day will be better. I feel lucky to be able to give you a real hug today.
Posted by: margene | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 08:53 AM
What a nightmare. I am glad Mr. E. got good care, and that you had the support you needed. It is no fun to wade through these things alone, in a strange environment. Best wishes to you both.
Posted by: Pumpkinmama | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 09:17 AM
What a terrible ordeal to have to sit and watch and wait; knowing all the risks and possibilities only makes it harder. Thank goodness for the support of friends. Thank goodness that all worked out so well. Although I only know you as a voice in the ether I am sending virtual hugs.
Posted by: Mardel | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 09:21 AM
Sometimes I think it's far worse to be a patient when you understand more about what exactly that means and what can happen.
All good thoughts going to you and Mr. E. Hang in there.
Posted by: Theresa | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 09:38 AM
sending good healing thoughts your way!
Posted by: ann | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 09:51 AM
I often feel I haven't accomplished much in my life, but I am crying at this very moment, for you and your dear husband, and at the knowledge that I produced Tom and two other sons pretty much like him. I only wish I had been there to help myself. Love to you both!
Posted by: Marcia | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 10:14 AM
Oh Laurie, your story is so unreal! I was in tears for both of you. We'll all be here supporting you and Mr. E for the healing process! Take Care!
Posted by: kate | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 10:18 AM
I'm sorry to read this - I hope all will go better from now on. Thank heavens for the blogging community with helping hands.
Posted by: Cathy | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 10:40 AM
Oh, Laurie! Nothing is worse than the helpless feeling of hurting loved ones! I am hugging. I know you can feel it!
Please, as you come back this way, let me know if I can help in any way. I'm good at lots of things. Especially sitting holding hands. Silent but there!
xoxoxo
Posted by: sandy | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 10:42 AM
Laurie, my friend, I'm in shock, in tears, etc...and hoping that Mr. Etherknitter heals fast and well. I wish I were closer. You've been there so much for me, and you know I'm here for you, though all I can do is be here from far away. All the love in the world to both of you!
Posted by: Lee Ann | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 11:15 AM
I've been holding my breath, and have only now let out a little bit. You showed remarkable restraint with the young man...which is of course the way you should have handled it, but so hard to do under the circumstances. You can imagine what I might have done/said!
Think of my tight hug around you if you can. If anyone can get better and overcome this, you and Mr. E. can, but I know it's going to be a long, hard road.
Posted by: Norma | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 11:34 AM
Three cheers for the ski patrol and Marcia's Tom! Glad you were able to get such a good surgeon -- the passionate ones really do work miracles.
Do you have Traumeel cream for the bruising, Aubrey's E-tomic balm for sore muscles (did his back get wrenched a bit in the fall?), and vitamin E for later when his incisions need TLC?
Did you ask for wallet-sized prints of the x-rays showing where his newly installed metal parts are so he can get through a metal detector?
And as you've discovered, there aren't strangers, just new friends. Old adage, but ever true.
Oh, and let the peonies remind you and perhaps wait until next year for the story.
Dpns waving toward the Wasatch front.
Posted by: Sylvia | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 11:35 AM
Dude, you took a PICTURE?! Damn....said in the most admiring of tones.
Posted by: claudia | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 11:50 AM
How awful! I'm thinking of both of you and sending warm hugs.
Posted by: Carole | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:05 PM
Warm hugs and healing thoughts. Let me know if Mr. Etherknitter would appreciate a Florida sunshine care package.
Posted by: SpindleRose | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:31 PM
My Dad was just as moved as I was by the story of the hell you went through and the support you received. Big, Big hugs for you and healing thoughts for the Mr. I wish I were close enough to do more. I have more respect that I can say for the way you spoke to that thoughtless kid on the slope. I doubt I could have done the same.
Posted by: Rachel H | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:35 PM
Laurie, I knew part of this story, but the whole story made me cry. You just have to know that we're all here for you, if not in body, then in spirit. If anybody needs Wendy's knit-signal, you do!
And "fractured fairy tale"? I'm thinking that your sense of humor will get you through this one!
Posted by: Lorette | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:38 PM
OMG. I'm thinking good thoughts for you and the husband.
Posted by: colleen | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 12:47 PM
oh my. Oh dear. Aw fuck.
What an adventure. I am thankful that you both had the best possible care, and grateful that his (and your) sense of humor is in tact.
I can't explain how (selfishly) I feel insignificant - I want to reach out across the country and be there. Help. Sit with you and knit. Bring a homecooked meal and bottle of good wine. And chocolate. The lessons I've learned from this post will be with me for a long, long time.
I'm sending good vibes and healthy thoughts and hope that your trip back East is uneventful. Take care Mr and Mrs Ether(knitter), take care.
Posted by: Kristen | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 01:23 PM
Oh, Laurie!!! Sending best wishes for a swift, uncomplicated recovery to Mr. E. Thank heaven you were able to get such wonderful care ... both from the medical staff and the blogging community.
Posted by: Ruth | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 01:23 PM
OH MY GOD, Laurie. A big, huge hug to you and to Mr. E. PLEASE let me know when you are back -- I will bring more hugs and food. Thank goodness that he's OK and that you make such good decisions under pressure. Hugs.
Posted by: Kathy | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 03:37 PM
Holy cow, what a scary story. Let me know if you need any help getting to the airport.
Posted by: susan | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 04:21 PM
I am so sorry this had to happen! I hope his leg heals quickly and well, I know how bad this kind of break can be. I'm sending virtual HUGS your way! Will you be able to go home soon?
Posted by: ivete | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 04:36 PM
Fuck !
Heal fast and well Mr.Etherknitter. Take of yourselves.
All the best. xxx
Posted by: Emma. | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 04:58 PM
Oh Laurie, I am so sorry that happened. Cried when I read how much pain he was in. Used to ski myself - never managed to get back on the slopes after an accident that was a skinned knee compared to that of Mr. Etherknitter. Wish I was a couple hours closer and the snow wasn't so bad here, I would drive in and knit with you. Take care of yourself and your man. My thougts and well-wishes are with you both.
Posted by: bev | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 07:20 PM
oh my... i am so so so sorry. i hope that recovery goes quickly and he is back in business soon. how scary!
Posted by: cori w | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 07:36 PM
Cheers for you for remaining strong through all of that ordeal. It's so difficult to see someone you care about in extreme pain and work through things rationally and patiently.
I hope your husband has the best possible recovery. I'm sure the two of you will be stronger together for the experience.
Posted by: Theresa | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 09:13 PM
Oh Laurie, holy moly. I'm so sorry this happened, that it was so traumatic, and...everything. He's very lucky to have you there advocating for him, and thank goodness for your demand of morphine with the boot. Shudder. Holy crap.
I'm glad you're both home safe and sound. I'm sending many hugs and healing vibes.
Perhaps we need to get Mr. Etherknitter an electric spinner for his convalescence? May it be quick.
Posted by: mamacate | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 09:21 PM
Laurie, I am so sorry to hear this!! A close friend of a close friend was paralyzed in a skiing accident a year or so ago, and I am so glad that--awful as this was--it wasn't worse. I can't imagine how horrible it was for you to just sit there for those hours while he was in surgery. I applaud your handling of the careless 16-year old. I am so VERY glad to hear that you've been getting the help and support you need and deserve. I can't do anything practical for you, but I am sending prayers and get well wishes. Don't forget to take care of yourself! Hang in there . . .
Posted by: --Deb | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 09:58 PM
holy SHIT, honey! wow! i'm a squeamish person, but somehow i felt i needed to read the whole thing, and support you in the only way i can, which is to comment here, and let you know that, as unusual as it is for me to pray, that i am praying for you & mr etherknitter. both of you. i & my loved ones suffered ptsd, and it's not pretty. get some help, once the physical is managed (i won't say over, it may be a long time before it's over). and then, when it's feasible, GET BACK ON THAT MOUNTAIN. you and he can conquer it. you may not ski it, but get there. my thoughts are with you dear, and you keep knitting. that, too, will help. i know.
Posted by: minnie | Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 10:20 PM
I'm crying into my coffee here. I can feel the combination of OMG this can't be happening, the helplessness and the need to hold it all together simply because you have to. Give him my best wishes from a total stranger. Take care of yourself too, not so easy when your focus is on someone else.
Posted by: Caroline M | Monday, March 20, 2006 at 04:29 AM
OMG, what an agonizing ordeal for the two of you. I'm here for the first time via Cassie. Wishing you both well.
Posted by: Alda | Monday, March 20, 2006 at 04:51 AM
I was clasping my legs by the time I got to the visual description. What a nightmare and here's me wishing for a decent dump of snow! Wishing him a speedy recovery.
Posted by: Tracy | Monday, March 20, 2006 at 06:14 AM
Sending healing and comforting thoughts and prayers your way. (hugs)
Posted by: DebbieB | Monday, March 20, 2006 at 06:35 AM
More healing thoughts headed in your direction. OMG, what a story. (I initially read the first sentence "this is a story with many lawyers" which would have been bad enough.) I've had that waiting-room wait myself. Hang in there.
Posted by: Lucia | Monday, March 20, 2006 at 06:47 AM
My God, Laurie! I am SO sorry to hear of your ordeals! (Mr. Etherknitter's and yours by extension) I had no idea what was happening, or I'd gladly have extended whatever help I was capable of offering from so far away.
Many, many healing energies and loving thoughts flying to you.
Posted by: Liz Cadorette | Monday, March 20, 2006 at 07:08 AM