This is a long story. I’ve chosen to tell it in three parts, over three days. This is part 1
You probably thought I was away enjoying our motor home in some southern destination. Nope. We did have plans but fate intervened. Our vacation was cancelled. Instead I have been held prisoner, confined to this house. Every day, all day, I sit and look out at the snow. I’m waiting. I’m just putting in the time. I’m hunkered down and counting the hours in a day; days in a week. The magic number will add up to seven weeks of waiting. On Wednesday April 9th, I will hopefully start to get my life back. You see, back on Feb 22nd I had an accident. I broke my leg. My tibia plateau to be exact. My shin bone caved in. Since then I’ve been confined to a wheelchair. Damn inconvenient.
Unlike a vacation you don’t exactly plan to break your leg. It just happens whether you are prepared or not. In my case, it caught me with a basket full of dirty laundry, no food in the frig and dog hairs clumping under the couch. I was staying in the house by myself, looking after our dogs, while Warren was working out of the province for two weeks.
I recall that it was a beautiful evening, still and cold. I was outside with the dogs – last call before bed. There was no wind and the stars were plentiful. Libby the puppy wanted to play. Big Molly, our irish wolfhound was the natural choice to be pestered and bothered. We had walked a long way back on our property. Libby kept jumping up on Molly. Molly was getting annoyed and tried to make a break for it. She started to gallop away with Libby directly on her heels. Molly twisted and deeked attempting to out run the younger dog. She can normally do it in a straight away. Molly has long powerful legs and a lean healthy body. She might weigh 175 pounds but it is all muscle. I recall that both dogs were out of sight but I could hear them in the dark. Suddenly Molly burst out from between two spruce trees. She was right in my face and coming at me like a runaway train. There was no time for me to move. POW! We collided in the dark. I staggered and cried out in pain. Then I went down.
It hurt a lot at first. I lay in the snow and caught my breath. Libby quickly ran over all excited that I was down on her level. The damn dog tugged at the pom-pom on my wool hat.
“Frig’n dog” “Get out of here.”
It would have been funny in any other situation. Then an odd thing happened when I tried to stand. I fell again. My leg wouldn’t hold my weight. WTF?
I was tempted to just lay there on top of the snow and wait it out. It was such a nice night. It didn’t hurt when I lay still. I admired the stars again. What was I to do now? I couldn’t get up. Both my neighbours lived too far away to hear me if I screamed for help. Would I die of hypothermia? I wasn’t sure how serious my situation was but I did think it was not going to get any better. I had to get back to the house but it was 100 feet away. In the end I used my elbows and wormed my way slowly across the snowy yard. I recall worrying that I might be dragging myself through dog poop but what could I do? Libby was thrilled at this new game. She jumped all around me and licked my cheeks. Ice crystals scrapped across my wet legs and bit into the skin of my palms and elbows. This was hard hot work. Inch by inch I pulled myself closer to the house, up onto the patio and across the threshold to the solarium. There I paused and waited for the dogs to get inside before I shut the sliding door. I had made it. My phone was almost within reach.
To Be Continued Tomorrow