Red In The Water

Broken Knees and Musical Splints

Well, its been four days since I rendered myself immobile by way of my childish love of flying through the air with a kite. One minute I was smashing 30 foot front rolls to toeside, the next I was yelling profanities 30 feet above the water because I knew this landing was going to hurt. And it did hurt. I never should have unhooked. I knew the moment I got my bearing back that my knee took a proper impact. As I struggled to roll over or to even get to the bar to stop the kite from pulling on my fresh injury. Every move was pain.
Relaunching the kite hurt.
Removing the board hurt.
I had to find the extent of my new limits on movement and they were, disappointingly, quite small.

I ended up swimming around like an injured sea lion while getting my kite packed up, because walking, hell even standing, was not an option. I managed to land my kite and pack it by myself. In my condition, no small feat I must say. In that moment, I was very glad to have received and taught years of emergency kite procedures. They all came in handy. As I propped myself up on the boat for a drink of water and to take a good look at my knee, the severity of my injury began to sink in. I can't even lift my leg. Packing my kite into a bag is a painful ordeal. All of the things I can normally do easily, like moving from one end of the boat to the other are a real struggle.

My day is definitely over.

When we got back to the dock I couldn't even get out of the boat by myself. I couldn't even walk up a set of stairs with two handrails. Everything just hurt too much.

Four days on and I can just now hobble around. It's looking like weeks before I can do anything athletic again. On the positive side, I now know exactly what it feels like to have your mobility taken away. I understand how and why my great grandmother needed help to get over something so small as a door jam. I will never take my mobility for granted again.

Assuming that my body actually heals, I'm not sure my mind will ever fully recover.

On a positive note, at least my voice and hands are still intact. For now, let's see if music alone can sustain me.