On that day

I don't have a great memory, which is why I write things down. 

I wrote about Iceland for an entire month because I wanted to remember every single moment

Before I had a blog, I had journals.

So many of them.

so much teenage angst

I rarely reread them, and honestly, I don't need to. It's less the actual written account and more the act of writing that cements things in my memory.

also, most of them are pretty cringe

I wrote a lot of posts in the aftermath of my broken collarbone, but not many about the day it actually happened.

Despite that, the events leading up to and immediately after my wreck remain crystal clear in my memory.

I was talking about some of this with Karen yesterday, and she said, "You should write that one down." I decided she was right - she's pretty much always is - so here goes.

October 19, 2013 was a Saturday. I showed up at the barn early to ride my lease horse, Rev, before the ring was filled with lesson kids. We were just wrapping up our schooling session when I saw a pair of children heading down the hill. I patted Rev's neck and said, "One more jump!" 

Then everything went to hell.

When he hit the rail, it felt like something out of a cartoon. All forward momentum stopped, and we just hung there in midair. I was forty four years old and ridden most of life. I'd had my share of minor horse-related injuries, but no major wrecks. I knew I was on borrowed time, and as we hung there, the words that came into head were, "It's happening. Here we go."

Of course, once the moment was over, things went really quickly. Rev tried his best to do a rotational fall, but the jump was much too little for him to get around. He landed on his chest, with his forelegs underneath and behind him. I was spiked over his right shoulder. I felt my collarbone explode, and thought, "Okay, collarbone. I can live with that."

Then, I don't know how it happened, but we both ended up side by side, on our backs but pointing in opposite directions. Rev was completely upside down with the pommel of my saddle squarely on top of my left leg. The pain was crushing, much worse than the collarbone had been. I felt my bone holding him up. I felt it bend, but not break.

At the same time, there was the very real chance he was going to roll over me. I tried to push him away from me, but he was on my left, and that arm wasn't working. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably a few seconds, he did, in fact, roll that way on his own. I somehow got to my feet, looked at the horrified lesson kids and said, "I'm okay."

An adult - I don't remember who - said, "No, you're not."

"Oh, I'm going to the ER," I replied. "My collarbone is broken and my leg is not okay, but I am standing up, so yeah, I am okay."

Then I got really involved in co-opting bystanders into catching, untacking and checking over Rev. After probably ten minutes of this, one of the barn moms, who is a nurse, got in my face and said, "You've got a lot of adrenaline going right now, but that's going to wear off, and you are going to want to be in a hospital when that happens."

Several people offered to call an ambulance, or at the very least, give me a ride. For some reason, I turned them all down, saying I'd call my husband. Except, when I did call, James was the one who answered the phone.

I asked him to get Seth, and he said, "Dad's in the shower."

"This is important," I told him. "I fell off Rev, and I need a ride to the hospital."

James put me on hold for a minute or two and came back saying Dad wasn't responding to his knock. I told him to barge in, and James was horrified. 

"I can't do that," he gasped. "He might be naked."

"Okay, fine," I said. "I'll call Carol. Please tell Dad to meet me at Aurora Med."

I called Carol, she came right away and Seth was at the ER when we arrived.

The first thing they asked me at intake was whether or not I'd been wearing a helmet. I had been, not that it mattered since my head was literally the only thing that hadn't smashed into the ground. The next question was, "I know it's unlikely, but do you know happen to how much the horse weighs?" 

As luck would have it, I had wormed him the week before and used a weight tape to determine the dosage. I was kind of ridiculously pleased with myself for knowing that one little fact. Eight hundred and fifty pounds.

Then - because "horse" is a triage word - I was taken straight to the back for x-rays and treatment. I was okay at first, but at some point - just as Kari had predicted - the adrenaline wore off and the pain hit me like a train.

And after that, it was all just pain, pain, pain, pain for a really long time.

Clearly, I don't need help remembering this day - it's been ten years and I still remember it so well! - but I am glad I finally wrote it down. Thanks for the suggestion, Karen, and sorry to everyone who actually made it through to the end. I promise tomorrow's post will be a little more relevant and a lot more timely!