April fool's day was true to it's name this year, in the sense that it made a fool of me. First run through the park, no jump scoping, roll in, flawless backside 450 to head smash. Concussed and blurry eyed i stave off the nausea with a pint. Head back out to try and redeem myself, but the head was a little too hazy to get down.
The day moves on and plans are made to continue into the night celebrating the loss of one of our brothers to the enslavement that is marital commitment. Plans for the bachelor party are unclear, but do include a trip to the only seedy strip joint in town and a dance-off at a local watering hole.
Concussed and under the influence of God's nectar i continue into the night as usual. To make a long story short, and to avoid explaining my failure too clearly, i'll jump straight to the point. I take a serious bail to the face in clear view of the dance circle we have created. I knew it was a bad one so i make my way home. Bleeding nose and a confused vision of reality, i finally make it back to my domicile after painting the interior of a cab with my scarlet life fluid.
I wake up to a savage black eye and some serious swelling. Decide to take the day off and mend my broken ego, after all, we were hosting a house party that night and i needed to be back on my game.
Party is a time, as it always is, and i make it through the night without doing any more damage to my money maker.
Sunday, two days after i was officially April's fool, i head back to the mountain in hopes of convincing myself that my face is fine. Goggles riding an injured face all day proves to be a bad idea, causing my eye to swell over completely. By this time word has spread and the usual middle-aged people in the lodge start pitching me ideas on what they think i did to my face. I entertain their versions by never really verifying the facts in hopes that an air of mystery will cover up my embarrassment.
Monday rolls around and i finally decide to hit the emergency room. Hours pass in the waiting room. Finally. Doctor. X Rays. Broken. Rushed to CT Scan. Triple fracture. Zygomatic arch fractured into eye socket threatening my vision. Surgeon is contacted and emergency surgery is scheduled. Fly home the following day.
Shit. That actually happened. You ruined the end of your season. Fears are realized....
Day of Surgery. Arrive at hospital and put on the backless robe. Wheeled into OR. Veins are hard to get at. IV tap is secured in the bend of my elbow, rather than back of hand. A decision that would prove to be a mistake, seeing as how this IV would be a part of me for the next 20 hours.
Awake from a dream. I was at a friends for dinner. Things were going great and everyone was happy. Then i'm in the recovery room.
I'm moved to my room, which already has three other guests.
I fade in and out as the drugs work their magic.
I request a mirror. My face looks like i was the victim of a mob beating.
Darkness sets in. The man across from me is clearly a drug head. Whispering drug deals over his cell phone as if no one else can hear him. I wonder what he's in for? I feel bad for him, yet i know he's there by his own doing. Then again, so am I. Every time i get my shot he hassles the nurse for a hit.
It's now 4am. I awake to a rustling next to me. A figure slowly glides by the curtain and begins pulling my divider back. I see only his arms, strangled with his own IV tubes.
me: "Is everything alright sir? Would you like me to call the nurse?"
old man: "No everything's not alright. Get up and help me. I have to piss!!"
me: " Sorry sir. I can't get up. The nurse should be here any second"
He's confused. He doesn't know where he is or how long he's been there. I feel much more for him than i do the addict across from me.
The antibiotics in my IV are stinging like crazy. My arm is killing. I can't bend it for fear of bending the needle and causing the IV to slip and drain into my soft tissue. I feel like Jared Leto in Requiem For a Dream. You know, when his arm is fucked from continuing to shoot up in an infected vein and he's freaking. Nothing is wrong of course, i'm just tripping myself out. Deep breaths. Stay calm.
The night progresses slowly. Time is indecipherable. Nurses change shift. The drugs keep flowing.
Morning comes. I haven't eaten anything in 36 hours at this point. The morphine has rotted my gut. Food is not enticing.
A doctor finally comes to check on me. Not the one that did my surgery, but a random one will do i guess. He tells me the surgery was a success but that it took a lot more effort than expected. Three incisions and two titanium plates. Recovery time will be longer and more painful.
I remain under surveillance for another couple of hours. I will only be released if i can keep my food down and manage my pain with these new pills they start giving me. I force down some food and tell them the pain is gone, even though it isn't. I just want out of this hell.
I'm released. I've never felt so weak. Walking takes more effort than it should.
Now i play the waiting game. Pain meds and sleep are my prescription and time is my only route to recovery. I will deal with the first bit of recovery at home, then make the trip back across the island to collect my belongings. Be ready for the pirate themed party with mandatory eye patches. If i'm going to look like a pirate for a while, then so are all you suckas.
Play safe kids. One moment you're on top, the next you might be in a morphine induced fever dream trying to figure out why the old man next to you thinks you're his nurse.
See you next season snowboard.....