“Remoted” – Workday 151 / Day 220 (Thursday)

Mine was not an athletic family. We didn’t play team sports, and with the exception of Mummu, we didn’t even watch sports. My sister and I danced ballet, and my much cooler sister also served as the family athlete as a cheerleader for church league basketball and high school varsity football.  

I tried out for cheering in high school a couple times but never made the squad. For tryouts in freshman year, we wore socks on the gym floor. During the cartwheel into splits at the end of the cheer, my socks slid on the floor, the splits happened too fast, and my left hamstring tore. This was during a preview for the judges, so I didn’t even get to try out. I sat on the bleachers rubbing my injured leg while everyone else tried out for the squad. It was days (weeks?) of aspirin and very painful walking. After the ordeal, my left leg was much more flexible in dance class, so there was a tiny benefit.

Zombies and Commandos.

Decades later, as an adult living in Tennessee, I helped organize a roller derby team and learned to roller skate. I loved the workouts and my teammates. After months of training, recruiting, fundraising, and skills tests, we launched our first season with big crowds at the rink and several wins against other teams. Our home bouts usually had a theme and the teams and spectators could dress for the theme, which included “Hillbilly Hoe Down” and “Glam Slam Metal Jam.”  On October 22, 2011, for our final event of the first season, our full team split and played as two teams – Zombies vs Commandos. I was on team Commandos.

Under the training protocol during the regular season, the 10 to 12 skaters on the roster for an upcoming bout worked on advanced moves, strategy, and specific bout drills. The rest of the team worked with the “Fresh Meat” newer team members on basics for the skills test including crossovers, knee taps, the safe ways to fall, the various stops, and the three seconds to get up and resume active skating from a fall.

In that final bout, another Commando tried to launch me in a cannonball move into a Zombie skater to knock her out of bounds. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been rostered for the most recent previous bouts and hadn’t practiced that particular maneuver.

Going Commando!

During the attempted cannonball move, skates were entangled and I hit the floor. The protocol for an injured skater is to tap the helmet, the action is stopped, and skaters take a knee. When I fell, I felt the snap of my shin, said “oh fu#%,” slammed the floor with my hand, and finally remembered to tap my helmet. Skaters took a knee, the refs and our EMTs came to my aid, and a teammate got my skates off my feet before I was carried off the track to a bench. My unplanned blood donation was mopped up from the floor. While waiting for the ambulance, there were no tears and people later said I was badass. I rolled out of Magic Wheels on a gurney, into the ambulance, and to the hospital, dressed in patterned tights, camo patterned booty shorts, a tee shirt stenciled with Commandos on the front and shades deville - 813 on the back, and camo face paint. 

This was my trifecta – first broken bone, first surgery, first hospital stay. The x-rays revealed a tibia-fibula spiral fracture. There was no pain, likely due to the nerve damage and numbness which lasted for years and still lingers. The treatment options were nine months in a cast or the insertion of a rod in my shin and a walking boot. The rod option was chosen and surgery took place overnight.

Oh, snap!

The hospital was exhausting. There was a constant stream of nurse visits and the taking of vitals. There was a stream of visitors. There was physical therapy. There was a woman in the next bed who constantly moaned in pain and didn’t know how to press the button for the nurse station. There was a beautifully printed menu for each meal and a kitchen staff that seemed surprised by my order. Each time they asked, “Is that all you want? That’s it?” They must get some big eaters there. 

On Tuesday, or maybe it was Wednesday, it was time to leave the hospital, and my teammate and derby wife Devlin D Flesh took me to her house. Moose was already there creating havoc, having been collected from my house Saturday night while I was at the hospital. At Wifey’s house there was great food, many laughs, visits from our teammates, a visiting nurse, and physical therapist. It was probably the longest week of her year. For me, it was a catalyst for big life changes that included the eventual sale of my home in Tennessee, leaving a great job, and moving back to Massachusetts to be near family.