Where I come from, there are vast rolling hills and farm fields. In the winter trails of packed snow snake through them creating a patchwork quilt of the earth. Truly a sight to see from the air, I'm sure. Depsite the beautiful picture that has been carved into your head, these lines that lead you across the beautiful scenery of my town and the next can be deceiving. They can lead you down a path of good times and merriment and they can chew you up and spit you out. Both of these scenarios may or may not be influenced by libations one can partake in along the way.
As you may or may not recall, not so far into the past, the Lieutenant received the business end of a Ski-do(zer). While he is more than willing to "get back on the horse" I am filled to the brim with worry and what-if's. Especially when you get handed a not so little reminder of how dangerous it can be.
The snow was fresh and clean and the trails were groomed to perfection. The air was cold enough for the sleds to run smooth and strong but yet not cold enough to opt for staying inside. Just as the Lieutenant and I were settling into the couch for the evening, the pager's beeping booted us out of the warmth into the cold night. After some reflection and strategic planning, the truck was locked in 4-LOW and seatbelts were fastened. The truck bucked and reared as we headed down a trail half as wide as the tire tracks.
As he yelled in pain we packaged and braced and loaded him onto the 6-wheeler. I shivered as I held blankets over him and layered the inside of his bibs with hot packs. At this point, keeping him warm was the name of the game. As we drove he explained what happened. He took a dive off his sled and as he stood to right his machine he was taken out at the legs by a buddy who wasn't doing a very good job of paying attention. I stifled the laugh as he recalled trying to stand up and "feeling something move in his leg." That line seemed so familiar since I had heard it not two years before.
When the trauma sheers came out, the groaning and moaning started anew but this time in mourning for his $250 coat and even more expensive bibs. With a line established we eased the pain with a little morphine only to find it barely touched it. Not that I was surprised. Ones leg really shouldn't be found at such an odd angle, well that is unless God graced him with two ankles and if that was the case, I would think he would have found his place with the traveling circus and not a band of vagabond snowmobilers. We pushed more morphine and laughed as he re-rated his pain at a 7.75 a short fall from the 8 he had reported with the last 2mg.
Thoughout it all, he laughed and winced remaining in good spirits considering. Until he suddenly wondered why his leg was wet. I really didn't have the heart to tell him it was because his bones were taking a little vacation from inside his skin to say hello to the outside world and that the "wetness" was not melting snow, but eas blood that was slowly oozing out of his shattered limb.
I never said anything to the Lieutenant just smiled and shook my head. Now someone tell my why I am sending him up north again? I think I might have actually gone Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs.
Also, while you are here - Check out some new tunes. I may have a new favorite! (Stop laughing, I know I have like a million favorites... that's not the point! Just listen okay?)
All I Want - Staind
And one more thing... I have the final design for my wrist tattoo. Now to find the financing and place to do it. And no, I don't feel like sharing it on the interwebz. I prefer for my tattoos to remain a singular piece of artwork that can only be found on one body and not the masses. But if you must know, it is a whimsical and feminine version of a dragonfly. I love it and can't wait to rock it.
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