|Beautiful Palouse view during "training"|
It was bad. I fell down onto the step and cried out, as my ankle immediately started to swell. I honestly cannot say that I have ever felt that kind of intense and prolonged physical pain. My body broke out into a clothes-drenching sweat, and my vision went black and blurry. I was nauseous and couldn't seem to put my words into complete sentences. I was helpless and hurt, and people crowded around me. Scott saw that this was no typical "Annie-fell-and-stubbed-her-toe" kind-of injury and ran for help. He and two men from the first aid station picked me up off the stairs and carried me into the lodge's first aid center, which consisted of little more than a vinyl-covered bed. They placed me on the bed, gave me water and a trash can in case of illness, and put a cool cloth on my neck and forehead.
I could barely think; all I wanted in the world was something for the pain. The pain didn't subside like they said it would, and instead of giving me morphine or Vicodin, they asked me questions for their accident forms. Even though they were nice and somewhat helpful, I was annoyed and wanted to get off the mountain and go somewhere - anywhere - that had something to dull the pain. Scott drove me to an immediate care clinic in Sandpoint, where I got x-rays, a half-cast, and (finally) a prescription for some pain meds.
One month and three days later, I am still on crutches and in a boot with a torn deltoid ligament and a fractured fibula. I missed the Transcendence Ultra, which still bums me out, but I'm doing my best to think positively and not feel sorry for myself. (And about 85% of the time, I am successful.)
I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow afternoon, and hopefully he'll give me some good news. I'd love to be walking and driving again soon, even though there are little joys like this that have acted as my silver lining...