On my first ski trip to France I had no idea what to expect with conditions. As an amputee, I decided it would be best to leave the top of my prosthetic leg on and remove my leg at the knee, I would be able to re-attach it when needing to walk. My husband, John, wore a backpack and placed the bottom of my leg inside, leaving the foot dangling from the top. It did look a bit odd, but he didn’t seem to mind.
When we left the hotel to get onto the snow, I was excited. In the front was a small hill which allowed me the opportunity to adjust my equipment, and everything seemed fine. We were to ski down to get onto the ski lift that was headed to the top of the mountain.
As I skied downhill my stump hit the snow with a sudden impact, jerking me to the ground. The top of the prosthesis had caused my leg to break inside, where I felt it burn. Certain that is what had happened, I imagined a compound fracture with the bone protruding through the skin.
I laid down onto the snow taking off my snowsuit…no time for pride. Scared to death, I removed my prosthesis and found there was no protruding bone; my imagination had again got the better of me. I packed snow around my leg, wrapped my snowsuit back around and pulled up my pant leg. I took the bandana that I used to secure my pant leg, tied my stump to my right leg and got up to further my journey downhill for medical help.
I arrived in town at the medical station, John had followed behind. He still had the bottom half of my leg in the backpack. As he walked into the station he said, “This place is really dangerous!” and pointed to my missing leg. When I got inside the staff all panicked and immediately x-rayed, poked and prodded. They put me into a blowup, “sack” preventing my entire body from any type of movement. I felt like the “MIchelin Man.” I was not sure why they were concerned since I had just skied the slope and walked down the street for many blocks. My broken leg was not necessarily weight bearing so I wasn’t concerned. They called the “Pompier,” firetruck ambulance, which took me to the hospital. While there was no rush no one seemed to have told the driver as he flew down the mountain. They had somehow hung me from the inside roof of the ambulance in this bubble so I was swinging like mad from side to side. John was in the front with the driver, holding on for all his life. He said they almost careened off the side of the mountain with every turn.
When we arrived at the hospital, there was only one doctor to see everyone, he was very busy. They repeated the x-rays again, poked and prodded some more while I waited; all this for a simple broken bone. I thought that I would be in and out in a short while. The doctor who spoke to John pretended not to speak English. A French friend with us translated. According to them the doctor was very rude. When he came in to see me, he spoke English and was very polite! He put a cast on my leg and told me I would have to stay the night.
I asked the nurse if I could go to the bathroom she said, “No, you have a broken leg.” I said, “But I am not going to walk on it and besides I do this every night…walk on crutches.” The nurse did not want to understand. After she left the room I got up and when I did, the cast fell onto the floor with a dead “plop.” The swelling had gone and without a foot to stop it, the cast fell onto the floor.
The next morning, the doctor came in, saw the cast lying at the foot of the bed and asked what had happened. I said that the cast would do no good, it would just fall off. I told him that it would, however, make a nice flowerpot. He took it away and, I thought I was ready to go. The cast arrived back with many strings hanging from it and he told me to tie it from my neck. I said, “Flowerpot,” telling the doctor that I would take my prosthesis apart, use it as a cast and I would be fine. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Arriving back at the hotel, I called my orthopedist in Indiana. He was working in the hospital ER and was paged for me. I told him that I was in France and I had broken my stump. His response, “It will grow back!” At that point I knew I would be fine.