Sidetracked Charley

I have a very high pain threshold. That was a good thing in my childhood when I was having "Say Uncle" fights with my sadistic brother. And in my very athletic youth it probably saved me from an addiction to pain meds. Following my ski accident it saved me from melting my liver or ruining my kidneys with NCIDs. But I had a kidney stone for a year and a half and never convinced anyone I was in pain until I passed out at the civic light opera performance. My nurse sister, who also has a high pain threshold, tells me I should learn to yell and scream and roll on the floor more. But I just refuse to act like a whiny girl. Cowgirls don't cry. You get up, dust yourself off, and get back on the horse. Recovery from my various injuries incurred as a victim of a hit and run on the ski slope (actually he didn't run but it sounds so dramatic) I became very acquainted with pain scale charts. Though I had a very hard time identifying with the numbers. The smiley faces help...

On Christmas Eve 2001 I was teaching an upper level semi-private ski lesson at Angel Fire Resort. Three and a half hours later I re-engaged in the world to find myself being driven down the mountain to the front emergency department. I was sitting up without neck support in the back of a Subaru on a bumpy road. I walked into the ski patrol office where I had to pee in a cup and complete an accident report. A report I got entirely wrong because it ended 20 minutes before the accident. We had to come back to the name and address part. I got the name off my name tag. They released me to drive home. To make a long story short I was hit at high speed by a Oklahoma resident who had drunk lunch, tossed into the air, and landed on my head. I suffered a CBT, three compressed disks in my neck, and a complex injury of the rotator cuff on my left shoulder. Guess what got the most attention once everyone decided I was not going to just die or go away? Even I paid the most attention to my ...