In my “After the Storm” post, I made this statement: “One little incident can make a person ice-aphobic for life.”
Then, as I was wading through photos stored on our computer for the “Sisters” post (obviously, I didn’t find one that would be acceptable to all parties), I came across another photo from my past. This picture explains everything.
Now here’s the freaky part…
I found this picture on the 11th anniversary of the “incident”.
President’s Day.
Ice skating was involved.
19 weeks of recovery was involved.
How could it not make an impression?
This picture explains why I become a little old lady the moment I encounter an icy patch.
It explains why total strangers cringed when they looked at me.
It also explains why the boys in Anna’s second grade class were so intrigued with me. (I think little boys live for gore.)
We were living 3,000 miles from family.
No one knew the full extent of the injury until they saw this picture.
They saw this picture approximately 1 week after “it” came off.
This picture just about killed my mother, because if she had known, she would have been touching down in Oregon before I was even wheeled into surgery.
WARNING: If you are of faint heart or have a weak stomach…bail NOW!
At least my nails looked nice.
(Although, it totally freaked out the manicurist.)
2 comments:
I am jealous when I broke my wrist, I only got a stupid cast... and no sympathy and not a bit intriguing..
I've always said they totally botched up your wrist. If I had been there I certainly would have given you sympathy, dear mother-in-law!
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