Trio Trio Trio

Things that come in 3s:

– most shamrocks

– the Holy Trinity

– rings in a circus

– Lord of the Rings books

– Dogs at night

– this guy:

(For those of you who are unfamiliar, that’s the aptly named dugtrio)

And now, we can add to the list: – Family ER visits.

It all started with the realization that a) we really needed a vacation, b) Ken could easily take off work between Christmas and New Years, and c) Groupon has some really good last minute travel deals. We initially envisioned a road trip (“Let’s drive until it’s warm,” I said), but another deal caught my eye.

A hotel in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin with an indoor pool. A free Cranberry Museum in town. But the most attractive part? “5 minutes from skiing!!”

Ken and Daniel had never skied. Ken and Daniel both wanted to learn to ski. And I, against all sanity and reason, wanted to ski again.

Yes, again. I went skiing once before this trip. It was 11 years ago and ended with me in the hospital with a concussion and broken thumb. But other than that, it was fun! I clearly remember enjoying skiing! Yes, I clearly remember hitting a tree with my head, but it would be different this time!

And so we packed up, bought outdoor gear, and headed to middle of nowhere Wisconsin for 4 days of relaxing: skiing and swimming and lounging in the hot tub.

We were prepared.

We all started off with a ski lesson. Daniel and Ken both did great for their first time. The instructor was impressed. And it all came back to me! And I was doing awesome! Before sending us off on our own, the instructor had Ken and Dan go up to the first pole of the ski lift and ski down. They aced it. Misunderstanding the instruction, I went to the second pole of the ski lift and skied down. Aced it.

Quick trivia question: what did Luke Skywalker say was The Emperor’s weakness in Return of the Jedi? Answer: His over confidence.

*fist bumps Palpatine*

I went to the ski lift and fell 3 times trying to get up the hill. I eventually decided to abandon my ski poles as someone promised to bring them up after me. (I think they’re still on the hill somewhere as I never saw them again). I wiped out getting off the ski lift. And yet, there I stood, surveying the view.

The view! I can do this!!

Overconfident selfie!

I can skiiiiiiaaaaiiiieeeee…..!

Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.

That’s not the sad trombone. That’s the sound of me flipping over three times, left ski flying off (to find my poles?), and finally cracking my head on the snow at the nape of my neck. There I sat, about 1/5th down the hill, only one ski on, debating if I could slide on my butt the rest of the way down. Luckily the nice man with the snowmobile and stretcher came and took me to first aid.

It was pretty obvious I had a concussion. Having several before, I’m quite familiar with the symptoms now. I was nauseated, seeing double, and couldn’t remember my husbands name. So this is the next picture I have:

That would be me laughing at something the paramedics said. And that made ER visit #1. The rest of the vacation was me in the hotel room. By Friday, I was feeling better, enough to make a side trip to visit friends in Milwaukee.

Worth it.

By Sunday night, I was pretty well healed. I was even going to try to go to work the next day. In anticipation, I tried to go to bed early, around 10 pm. I was immediately awoken by loud yells and crashes in the kitchen. Running downstairs in my pjs, I stopped short, surveying the apparent crime scene in my kitchen. My husband was standing at the faucet, deathly pale and whimpering, and there was blood everywhere.

Apparently, the pillar candle needed trimming. Apparently, the best tool for this job was our son’s Boy Scout pocketknife. Apparently, he didn’t listen to the safety lecture he just gave the Scouts.

Aunt came to stay with Dan, I pulled boots on over my pjs, and took husband to ER #2.

He was really happy about it.

Several hours and 14 stitches later, we were finally home. It was now 4 am on Monday. My head was starting to hurt. It hurt even more when I got up 3 hours later to take the boy to school. And the next morning, Tuesday, it really hurt as I shoveled our driveway.

We managed to get the boy to school. I managed to make it all the way back to our kitchen before fainting. Ken managed to get me awake and into the car for ER #3.

Turns out, if you overdo it, and do too much too soon, and lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk (you know, like snow), you can have something called a “post concussive episode” which is medical-ese for ow ow OWWWW.

So here’s the final numbers:

1: neck x-Ray

2: head CTs

3: ER visits

14: stitches in Ken’s hand

24: hours I was hooked to a heart monitor. (I named it George).

ZERO : THE NUMBER OF SKI RUNS I ENJOYED ON MY SKI VACATION.

God only knows what would have happened if we’d just taken a road trip.