If you happen to be the sort of person who checks in on my blog regularly then you’ve probably noticed that it’s been down for a bit. Silly me, thinking that when I said “yes” to automatic renewal on my hosting it meant, well, that it would renew automatically. Anyway, I’ve clearly been taking my sweet time in getting things back up and running, but here we are, and I come bearing a story.

Yesterday, for the first time since moving to Jasper, I made it up for a day of skiing at Marmot Basin*.

Ski chic, clearly.
Ski chic, clearly.

It was exciting to be there; it was my first time skiing in a few years and my first time ever in the Rocky Mountains. The views were amazing, there was fresh powder, and it was a beautifully mild day. I’ve never necessarily been the most skilled skier but I felt like it all was coming back to me pretty quickly.

I can’t believe it took me so long to get up here, I thought to myself as my group snaked our way down a run. I’m going to come back all the time!

And then I fell.

Leave it to me to mess up an otherwise perfect day.
Leave it to me to mess up an otherwise perfect day.

I got cocky, my friends. I got cocky and the mountain put me in my place.

I thought I was more skilled than I was and started picking up way too much speed on the way down a run I had no business being on in the first place. By the time I realized I was in trouble, it was too late; I was past the point of no return and I bailed, landing hard shoulder-first.

According to my companions, it was a pretty spectacular fall.

I will have to take their word for it.

A testament to either my will or my foolishness, this was taken AFTER my epic spillage.
A testament to either my will or my foolishness, this was taken of me AFTER my epic spillage.

I was shaken and thoroughly embarrassed but I felt okay, all things considered. I kept skiing because it was just a tumble. I had learned my lesson the hard way and was more than happy to behave myself for the rest of the day.

But as the day wore on, the pain started to settle in. I was having trouble reaching back to pull the lift bar down and the throb in my shoulder was getting harder and harder to ignore. By the time we got home, it was so incredibly stiff and moving my arm around was virtually out of the question. Off to the ER I went.

A long wait in emerge, a round of x-rays and a painful exam later and the doctor handed down a diagnosis of minor tearing around my rotator cuff. I’d need two weeks in a “shoulder immobilizer” (a fancy way of saying “sling”, in my opinion) followed by physio, but no surgery. Not what I was hoping for but much better than I’d feared. The doc excused himself to write me a note for physio and take one last look at my x-rays.

I was slowly starting to gather myself up when he swept back into my little curtained space.

“Slight change of plans,” he said.

My stomach dropped. And then, as I was a moment away from panicking, this doctor proceeded to throw down one of the best unintentional pun I’ve ever heard:

“I was just looking at you x-rays and I noticed something funny with your humerus.”

Insert a heartbeat of incredulous silence.

“Wait!” he gaped. “That’s not what I meant – this isn’t funny at all!”

But I was already howling with laughter. Accidental or not, a well-timed pun makes everything better in my books.

In the end, it turns out that, along with the muscular tears, I may also have a teeny tiny fracture. It’s so tiny that he wants a specialist to double-check my x-rays just to be sure.

So for now, I wait. I wait and I learn how to navigate life without the use of my dominant arm. Fingers crossed that I don’t have a fracture – I don’t know how I’ll get by with my right arm strapped down for six weeks!

And besides, I was really hoping to make it back to the mountain one more time this season.




*Marmot Basin is a Shareholder of my employer, Tourism Jasper. That said, the views in this post are 100% my own. And, for what it’s worth, this accident was also 100% my fault. Do as I say and not as I do, kids.