A few days ago I was reading about Kevin Pearce on the internet. As you may know he’s a pro snowboarder who had a terrible accident exactly a year ago when I’m writing this. His story could very well have ended here, but he somehow pulled trough and has made a miraculous recovery. However, this is all over the internet for everyone to read so let’s get down to the point: I found his story truly inspiring as I am recovering from a slightly less serious sports-injury… a ruptured ACL… like I said: a slightly less serious injury :P As the winter is passing slowly and painfully snowboarding free this tiny injury is nagging at my usually endless patience. The decision between surgery and just training is still pending, six months after my accident.
With that said we can finally get down to the actual point, which is helmets. Pearce’s injury was caused by a hard hit to his head that supposedly would have been positively fatal had he not been wearing a helmet at the time. From what I’m hearing he’s been promoting helmets since. This got me thinking about how I came to get my helmet. I got it for my 20th birthday. I only get to ride Olympic halfpipes in my mind and see them on TV, but even I wasn’t safe from life and it’s lessons which it is always happy to force on you.
The story about my helmet and how we came to be inseparable starts almost two weeks before I turned 20, on January 16, 2009. In small-town-Norway, standing out is apparently a very scary thing to do. So when I arrived on my local ski resort that evening, I was not bringing a helmet, like any other person over the age of 10 that was not racing down the hill on slalom-skis. Belonging to the mentioned age-group one should also stay clear of any bright colors and stick mostly to black and blue. One might wonder how people who are free to wear anything come to be so boring. Anyway, back at the ski resort I was now on the top lift (the type that is clearly made for skiers!). It caused me quite a few bruises when I was a kid, due to it’s habit of giving you a flying start, and also traumatized my mum enough for her to give up skiing in her teenage years. But I have long since conquered this dinosaur, so I was busy checking out the view. This was around 7 pm, which means it would have been pitch black, but of course the resort was lit. At this time of year the sun is too low in the sky to overcome the mountains that this part of Norway is famous for, but even if it did, we get so many cloudy days that we probably wouldn’t notice the difference. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve known nothing but flat light for as long as I have been snowboarding, or skiing for that matter… which is always. The light this evening meant it was actually possible to tell where you were going. Aside from that, the slopes were covered by a thin layer of fresh powder. And while I was travelling sideways up the hill, it was quite except the sound of the lift and my board. Without a sound, the scarcely clouded sky started a light sprinkling of white. Sailing down in slow motion, it settled gently on my face. And then there was the icy bump that made me lose my balance. I bet you didn’t see it coming either! At this point it seems like nothing but a very embarrassing blooper. However, as the back of my head hit ice, it became clear that whoever is pulling the strings of life had decided it was time for me to learn a lesson (or is simply sadistic and bored). But I didn’t really reflect on this at the time, as I was too busy holding on to my head as tight as if it was about to come right off. Luckily for me, my brother wasn’t too far behind me on the lift. As he is very supportive and understanding, he did what any good brother would have done: he laughed at me and claimed he didn’t know me. Having quickly estimated and compared the bruise in the back of my head to the one my ego would take if I stayed on the ground for another second, I got up and rode back down to the beginning of the lift. You know what they say about getting back on the horse. This time I paid some attention to where I was going and made it to the top.
On my way down I could tell my head wasn’t quite right and already at this point I knew it had been a bad idea not to just call it a day. But I was still standing and there is nothing like some fresh powder to cloud your mind and make responsible decision making oh so difficult to focus on. Also, a hard hit to the head doesn’t help with the focusing. I was just cruising down the hill when I spotted a black dot further down the hill. Actually, almost directly below me, right where I was headed. I’m a little bit of a speed freak and my brother always says I’m going too fast. I turned my board all the way over on my heel-edge and for once I had to admit he was right, because there was no way in hell I was going to lose speed quick enough. At this moment I freaked out. I’m usually quite good at keeping my cool. In fact, so much so that after every dangerous situation that I’ve been in I remember everything clear enough that I can pretty much replay it frame by frame in my head and make out every detail of the situation and my actions. For example I remember coolly considering my options while my car was sliding downhill towards the car ahead of me, knowing my breaks wouldn’t grip in time if it didn’t speed up. Fear wasn’t an option because there was no room for it. I had no problem concluding that I had to steer the car off the road if the situation didn’t resolve itself quickly. But it was only later that I learned to perfect this while driving. My recollection of what happened next is a blur. At this point it was clear that I had to make a turn. The person was a little bit to my right, so the best option was to go left one would assume. However, I ride goofy (right leg first) and I’m not inclined to go fakie (“backwards”) in any sort of situation if it can be avoided. In a high speed situation in which I don’t feel on top of things, I’m just not going to go for it even if it can’t be avoided. The slope was steep and even though I might still have had 15-20 meters to make a turn to go about 1,5 meters to the right, I could tell right away it was hopeless. Just before I hit him there was about 30 cm left to go to clear him. Enough of the tail of my board to hurt like hell. So I remember making a split second decision to throw myself around to save the poor guys ankle. I don’t really remember how it went. I remember starting on the maneuver. But there is a black hole in between there and the unforgettable feeling of sliding downhill, head first, on my back. After slamming my board into the ground a few times I managed to stop. I turned around and caught sight of the guy further up the hill. He was sitting up, watching me, but laid down when I turned around. I called out twice, asking if he was all right. I had no idea how hard I might have hit him, so when he didn’t answered, I might have panicked just a little bit: “Oh my God! I’ve killed him!”. This was pretty much the worst moment of my life! It still hurts just to think about it, like my brain is digging away at it and working very hard to transform it into something that will suit my ego better. It is the only time I’ve considered never snowboarding again. I immediately started unstrapping my board to go check if he was still alive. By the time I had managed to get one foot loose, I looked up again and the ski patrol was already with him. To my relief, he was now sitting up and one of the ski patrol people was heading my way. She said he was all right, and then started lecturing me about how we shouldn’t be riding so close together. I immediately broke her off. My brain had detected something else it repels like a foreign object: things that are not true, espessially if the misunderstanding benefits me. This is not very smart and helpful so I don’t know where I get this from, but I can’t help it. I might be painfully shy, but I wasn’t about to let the poor guy share the blame. I was very keen to let them know this was all my fault. Not that it really mattered what she thought, but this is a personality trait that is set in stone and that I wouldn’t be able to turn away from even if I wanted to. Had I just let it slide I would have hated myself for it. She looked at me funny, undoubtedly because she had expected my objection to be of a different nature, but then quickly changed the topic to “snowboarders” and “too high speed”. As I was feeling like an idiot, I was all for her lecturing me. But still it sometimes bothers me that I let her blame it on snowboarding. But this wasn’t a misunderstanding; this is a long lived myth that just won’t seem to die no matter how many times I almost get run down by idiots on slalom skis. Assholes come in all shapes and forms, and certainly with all kinds of footwear. Back on point, the guy finally got back on his feet, and I figured it was time to split so he wouldn’t have to worry about me hitting him again. I was still feeling so bad about it that I couldn’t really focus, which leads me to strike tree of this lovely evening. I was making my way down the hill. Heel-edge, toe-edge, heel-edge and so. Usually I would be completely entranced by this. I was keeping my speed down and had turned my board sideways, balancing on my heels, but still had considerable speed. I was letting up a little bit, pushing my left foot forward so it was ahead of my right foot. I was almost riding fakie but still heavily on my heel-edge, when my toe-edge touched down. Just slightly, on a different day I might have been able to save it. If you don’t snowboard I’m just going to tell you this is bad. My initial thought was “It’s karma!”. I went straight on my face, hard enough that I saw a flash of light and was pretty sure I was dead. And this isn’t even an exaggeration. I actually literally thought I had just died. It might seem like a funny thing to think, but at that point in time the thought came quite naturally. I had no feeling in the lower part of my face for an hour after that, as a compensation of sorts I had acquired a bunch of decorative red dots where the sensation was missing. I actually tried to drive home, but I almost went off the road before I had gotten on it (again, no exaggeration), so I had the sense to park the car again as quick as possible.
Two months of nothingness followed. I couldn’t watch TV, use my computer, drive. I was exhausted just from walking to school. My once quick head just didn’t work right. I could hardly focus on anything, not with my mind or eyes. I had mood swings and would get so angry I would actually break stuff and curl up in a ball with every muscle in my body strained like I was trying to break myself into pieces or about to implode. Even at the time I could tell it was completely crazy and uncalled for, but I just wasn’t able to control it. I would also get overly anxious, stressed and very depressed. Everywhere I looked, I saw nothing but risks. Everything was something I could potentially hit my head on, and I could hardly think of anything else. Still to this day, it bothers me to lean the back of my head on anything. It still feels like it might break. I would talk about it endlessly. I could tell people were getting bored with me, but I didn’t have anything else to talk about. For the longest time, my life was nothing but a blur tinted by my concussion.
So, there you see! You don’t have to do crazy shit to get a concussion. A little bad luck and an unprotected head is all it takes.
I was going to post this yesterday, but I had to spend all evening filling out forms, waiting for an ambulance that never showed, going to the doctor and chewing painkillers because I was involved in my first car accident. I had to stop because the the car ahead of me was turning left and had to wait because of oncoming traffic. Then a car hit me from behind because there was something wrong with his breaks. Pretty much every single muscle in my torso hurts, and especially my neck, but I was lucky and will be all right. My car was damaged pretty badly though. The speed limit was 70 km/h so the impact was pretty bad. I’m hoping to get the car back as I am quite fond of my silly little Hyundai Getz. Also, as the car technically belongs to my parents, I will probably find myself carless if the damage is so bad they end up getting it back in money. Oh, well, maybe I can talk them into lending me some money for a cheaper car. After all, they paid for my brother’s car for some abnormal reason. I didn’t think anyone with their head on straight and properly connected to their body would lend that guy money, as he seem to have a particular ability to be throwing them out the window with both hands (I sure hope he doesn’t read this). They have somehow failed to discover that I am a much more credible person (and a year older… and a better driver. Just follow the money! When he gets in an accident, he pays, when I do, I get paid) and have shut down my attempts to get a similar loan. Life is unfair.
I also find myself boardless at the moment because I was on my way to the ski resort when I was hit and my board was in the back. It might still be possible to use, but it’s got two cracks in it. One on each end, about halfway between each binding and the nose/tail. I’m hoping to get that covered too.
Ingen kommentarer:
Legg inn en kommentar