Sixty to Less Than Zero

June 13, 2009 at 9:02 pm (Skydiving)

Im sitting on my bed which happens to be in my living room. The doors are open. It’s June 13th and the birds are chirping outside. A full pot of coffee is awaiting me, across the room, on the island in the kitchen. The thought of getting up to get a cup used to be appealing, now frankly, it’s just a risk.

I broke my ankles 3 weeks ago, in a skydiving accident near New Paltz, NY. Im in a wheelchair and will not be walking for a while. It was my fourth jump (my first Instructor Assisted Free Fall) where they let go of you after you deploy your canopy. I had a thrilling, controlled free fall, a stunning canopy ride down. Im still not sure what happened, except that when I found my area of the dropzone to land, I hit the ground at full speed. I never flared to slow down.

The first thing i heard on my radio: “Raise your hand if you’re OK!!” I looked down at my feet. The left one looked ok, the right one… not-so-much. I raised my right hand and tried to stand, repeating, “YOU’RE OK, YOU’RE OK, walk off the field Aimee, JUST GET UP.” That’s when I collapsed.

Someone was trying to pry the toggles out of my hands so the canopy wouldn’t pull me further into the dropzone. I didn’t want to let go.

My next thought was, “OK, so you broke your legs, at least you didn’t injure your back. At least you can still hug your girls.”

The rest consists of multiple ambulance rides and hospital stays before landing in the Hospital for Special Surgery in Manhattan, eight days later on May 30th.

Both legs needed operations… the left was fractured and the right, completely shattered. June sixth was the first 7 hour surgery and i woke up from anesthesia with more pain than I had ever experienced in my life. With the exception of the nurse, I was alone in the recovery room. My friends and mom live in CT and my sister in Salt Lake. I was overwhelmed with fear and loneliness. The nurse was very compassionate and held my hand for an hour while I just cried. 

A couple hours later I called my sister in Utah. Until this point in time, we’ve had a strained relationship. We were extremely close for most of our lives and then a few years ago, we grew apart. It might have been spurred on by the death of our dad, I don’t know. The point is, she was the only one I wanted to talk to in my most painful, vulnerable, fearful moments. She heard my voice and texted me later that she would be in Manhattan in less than 24 hours. 

When she arrived the next day, she started crying when she saw me on the bed. I was on blood transfusion two or three, i don’t remember. I looked like hell. She sat by me late into the night and came back early each morning. We share the same sense of humor. She would add things to my get well cards like: “Dear Aimee, the same thing happened to my cousin. He broke his legs, then he died.” Kind of like an Evil Jack Handy. It reduces us to tears.

Something happened during her visit. Something healed between us. It chokes me up to think about what i’ve been missing in my friendship with her after all this time. She is my closest friend and we get each other. She just moved to Salt Lake, but i feel like we’re closer now than when she lived in Boston, just a few months ago. 

Its now 22 days after the accident. I have so much gratitude in my life. I’ll walk again. I’ll run again (despite what doctors tell me), I’ll snowboard again… I’m done skydiving though. What I am most grateful for however is to have her back. It was worth jumping out of a plane, breaking my ankles and the anticipated recovery time to have her in my life in this renewed capacity.

As for the coffee, its too much of a risk to transfer into my wheelchair and get it right now. But my sister… she’s just a text away.