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Living Frisbee's Story

In a blog world full of ego's on parade, including mine, its humbling and refreshing to land on writers who, instead of proving why they are cool, share life experience to hopefully help others. Like Living Frisbee.

Here we reprint a portion of his The Day I Lost My Invincibility Post:

Sunday, January 18, 2004
Richmond Park, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Some time between two and and three in the afternoon, I can't clearly recall the time.

Lots of kids on sleds and tubes sliding down the big hill.

Another hill farther up into the trees, populated by kids on snowboards.

A steep hill. An icy hill.
Seemed like a more exciting prospect considering my love of speed when it comes to sledding.
I had a big toboggan style sled that could fit two people sitting, or my entire body lying down.
The snow was especially deep as I trudged along the tree lined hill up toward the top of the hill.
Knee deep and slow.



I was wearing two pairs of pants, three pairs of socks, a couple shirts, an thick heavy coat, knee high Sorel Boots laced up tight, goggles, gloves and a hat like what you see the Russians wearing in spy movies.
Between carrying the sled and the clothing and the general trudging, I was more than a little winded by the time I reached the top of the hill. The kids on snowboards were only traveling half way down the steep incline before loosing their balance and needing to come back up for another run. I casually asked one of them if it was safe to go down. I was half joking, and only 1/10th really concerned. The rest was my general lack of attention to my surroundings as I am usually thinking of something other than where I am physically.
As the hill cleared, I surveyed the positions of the trees and the angle of the slope. It was very icy. The sun shone bright off the surface. Most of the trees were far off to the side and of no concern. Near the bottom of the hill there was one formidable tree that needed to be avoided, but with a true aim I did not see this as much of an issue to worry about.
I sat the sled down and placed my feet at the front where two indentations allowed my heels to be secured. I dug my hands into the hard, icy top layer of the snow, pushed back as far as my arms would reach and pulled hard forward as the sled launched over the edge of the hill. I grabbed the handles at the side of the sled, keeping me head up to insure I had the correct trajectory.

I was good to go.
The sound of plastic screaming over ice filled my ears.
I was moving fast! Very fast! It was a very tall and steep hill.
There was a dip and a bump three quarters of the way down.
There was no way I could have seen this from the top given the sun and the sheer whiteness of the ground.

You know that silent sound that they always use in movies right before two cars crash together? That was the sound as I launched into the air at what I could only judge at exceeding thirty miles per hour. The bump surprised me and had caused my sled to leave my body.

I was a 215 pound bullet!
The sled went off somewhere to the right.
I ejected leftward toward the very tree I had aimed away from.
Still feet first and airborne.
My left leg was the only part of my body that I couldn't pull away in time.
I was directly lined up so when I collided with the wooden giant the entirety of my foot from the toes to the heel collided. As the force of my body came behind my leg I collapsed up against my knee. I pushed off the best I could manage.
I collapsed to the right of the tree as the momentum of my ride ended.

Have you ever jumped from a reasonably high surface and landed feet first?
You know that shaky feeling it gives in your heel and bones?
That's what my leg felt like, right up into my left hip.
It didn't hurt too badly.
I tried to stand up.
No dice.
I fell right over.

I was told later that a cracking sound could be heard throughout the whole area. A park worker was inside a building nearby heard the impact and came out to investigate.

Read the full story and recovery at Living Frisbee. Reprinted by permission from Living Frisbee.

Grace Moves to Kansas Part II

Deep Thoughts on Poison Ivy

 

I can’t sleep tonight. Want to know why? Because I am itching from poison ivy. Oh, you think you know what it looks like, so did I, but let me tell you something, if you are from NJ, you probably can’t tell poison ivy from broccoli.

 

Yes, I remember learning about leaves of three, shiny leaves, sometimes red berries; color can change from green to reddish. I was, after all, a girl scout (well, not really, only made it to Brownies.) But the name sounds overly dramatic. After all ivy sounds pretty and little lambs eat it – kid’ll, too! Perhaps I changed it to “itchy ivy” in my subconscious and didn’t take it seriously enough.

 

The day after Michael and I arrived in KS, we still didn’t have furniture/boxes and I was (I have to laugh when I write this) looking for something to do. My husband had declared the front bushes to be entirely overgrown and “all need to be removed!” Hmmm, I thought to myself, Andrea calls me GraceScissorHands due to my excellent manual hand-clipper skills; perhaps I can clean it up and change my husband’s mind. That was my first clue I was going down a slippery slope, as I have NEVER been able to change my husband’s mind about anything.

 

So, here I am pulling “weeds” out of the 5-feet tall pampas grass that obstruct the front walk. Yes, friends, the poison ivy’s poison spread onto the grass and every time I brushed by it, I was infecting myself. I literally look like I have lashes across the front and back of my legs, arms torso, back(no, I wasn’t wearing super-low-riders or a half-shirt, I left them in Jersey) and FACE. Thank you, God; I didn’t have to use the bathroom! Oh, and to boot, I have chigger bites on my back. Apparently, our yard is infested with them too. Where did I move to, the god$#mn Wild Kingdom? The locals say it is the worst year ever for poison ivy due to global warming – does Al Gore know about this?

 

And because I am somewhat of an extremist, I woke up one morning covered from head to toes in hives. That’s when I went to the urgent care and was put on prednisone and benadryl. So now I am jittery and tired all the time. That, in combination with, an oozing, itching, scabby, purple-in-some-places rash, does not make for a good time. On the bright side, neither Joe nor Michael has been affected. Let’s hear it for good ol’ mom taking one for the team!

 

My brother in law sprayed the evil vine and covered up the areas with pizza boxes to prevent the rain from washing the chemicals away. That was last week. The pizza boxes are still there. We are all terrified to remove them. I was told to buy a $2 rain suit at Walmart, wear gloves, remove the boxes, dispose of boxes, suit and gloves properly taking care not to infect anything else along the way, then jump into a shower and scrub head to toe. Kinda reminds me of asbestos removal (that is another story…) It’s like being on CSI, the way I am thinking of all the possible places I touched that day that need to be decontaminated.

 

It makes meeting the neighbors a little awkward. “Hi, I am Quasimodo, uh, I mean Grace. No, I don’t have herpes, this is poison ivy. Yes, we are aware that pizza boxes are not considered lawn ornaments. By the way, do you have a HazMat suit I can borrow?”

 

That’s all for now.

Grace

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You can read more from Grace, just search "Grace" or "Kansas" in our Lijit box at the top!-- GW Editors