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Back in the hospital, a doctor had told me that I would be there for up to weeks, and would probably spend some time in a rehab facility upon discharge too. No one was with me when I spoke to him, but I wish they had been. It was maybe that conversation that drove me the most… I told him, “I’m strong. You just wait and see. I’m going to surprise you.”

Perhaps I surprised nearly everyone by my quick recovery given the extent of my injuries…. everyone except for myself 🙂

On Monday night, I was alone in my room and my spine surgeon came in to visit with me. Some surgeons can be weird, and admittedly, this was one of them. He said that this surgery was going to be painful – more than the last spine surgery, that it might make me worse, and that he would pray for me. I’m sure he was going from and “under-expect but over-perform” standpoint. But, his words didn’t inspire confidence in any way. I would have preferred to hear something like, “You know, there are risks with this surgery, but I have had overwhelming success in similar surgeries” – Or something along those lines. Instead, his words were making me squeamish and more nervous than I already was.

I was thankful when they decided that I would undergo femur surgery that day. From what I understand, the surgery was pretty quick – a couple of hours. And then, I remember them saying to me post-op, “Your leg is now weight-bearing as tolerated.” What? That’s impossible? I’d known over a dozen people to have broken their femurs too, and none of them were allowed to put significant weight on it for 6 weeks. How could this be? But, it was what it was. It didn’t take me long to be determined for the next step…. I wanted to walk again.

On July 6th, Frank and I left Crested Butte in the dark hours of the morning, driving toward Fairplay, with the intention of skiing a peak near that area. We didn’t know that tragedy would strike, so much that we wouldn’t make our way back to Crested Butte for two and a half weeks – and our lives would be forever changed.