Caution - "Ausländer" on the Slope
How my ski accident taught me how to overcome - skiing and integrating.
Photo Karen Landolt
I just arrived home from a terrific ski week in Laax. And guess what. I came home without a cast, crutches, a bump or a bruise. I didn’t even fall. Now that’s a miracle. Four years ago it was a different story – with questionable consequences.
That Sunday morning was a gray, overcast day. Mother Nature had been stingy all winter with her snow so, we the people, created some of our own. That translates into a hard run with grassy spots in between. Reluctantly I hopped on the old chair lift with my daughter and huffed, “I don’t want to go skiing today.” Why didn’t I listen to my wise inner voice?
Ten minutes later we descended the slope in our usual formation - me trailing. Eventually, I lost sight of everybody and decided to take a short cut to avoid the steepest part of the slope. My biggest nemesis. Nemesis number two waited around the corner- the “laufen lassen” (let it go) end to the downhill. It is necessary to shrink into the “hockie” and downhill my way to the next lift to keep from having to walk.
The shortcut is a small path through the woods, a few hundred feet below the slope. Normally a breath of fresh pine and a retreat from the rowdy piste. Not today. As I entered, I was skiing on an ice rink covered in pinecones - EVERYWHERE. I thought uh oh, how can I ski over all of those. Well, I did, and it did NOT work out well. The pine cones went under the tips of my skis, which threw me chin first. My ski poles were still attached to my wrists when I hit the ice. They bent forward, under my arms as I landed with all of my weight on them. My helmet detached from the force and landed a foot away. As I tried to take my arms out from underneath me, neither would move. I knew then I broke something, I heard it.
Ok, let us quickly review my predicament. I couldn’t move. I was lying on a bed of ice. I was alone, and for at least 15 minutes not one person skied the shortcut. I screamed until a snowboard teacher heard me from above and came to my rescue. It took several people to get me into a standing position. No, not because of my weight but because they were trying not to move my arms. I asked the helpers to call my family and tell them where I was.
Do you know what my husband said? “ Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Is shock contagious?
The diagnosis; the left arm was a simple fracture; the right was a nightmare. I tore the tendons; the split the ligaments in half, I separated two bones 3mm apart, and fractured another. Hey, when I do something, I give it my all.
Surgery, the first of three, was scheduled for the next morning. That was just the beginning. I arrived back to the apartment, casts on both hands from the tips of my fingers to my elbows. I realized I had my contacts in my eyes. I could bend my arms, but the radius on those casts “overreached” my eyes into the air next to my head. That was an aha moment for sure. And the beginning of eight weeks of not being able to do anything for me. Plus, it was the moment my then 14-year-old daughter had to jump in and do some things we both never thought she would.
That Question
I know what you’re thinking. How? Every person I came into contact said, “How awful, do you have to have help going to the bathroom?” Let me just say this; emergencies lend themselves to developing crisis plans, strategic thinking and problem-solving. I did all three and won my independence.
We attended a “red carpet event” in our local village. Please do not confuse this with a Hollywood event. But we dressed up, enjoyed a 4-course meal and an evening of entertainment. I sat as elegantly as possible, both casts propped on candlelit tables dressed in white, while my husband cut my food and fed me.
An acquaintance stopped by, looked at me with a laugh in his eyes and snickered, “Weren’t you the one that went jogging and got hit by a golf ball?”.
My story in a nutshell. I am a magnet for weird. But it makes a hell of a story.
Overcoming my Accident
I had both hands in casts for eight weeks. My right hand was operated on three times and was in a cast for almost a year. I couldn’t shake anyone’s hand for nearly two years. Writing, the love of my life, was impossible. It took patience and hard work that I never thought I had to recover. When the therapy wasn’t working, I kept saying so and refused to accept that it would always be that way. We searched for another option and yet another until we were successful.
I faced my fears and got back on skis. Today, I love to ski. Ok, only on sunny days, with powder snow, on slopes as wide as the Mississippi. I knew and learned to respect my boundaries.
What I learned from my accident can be applied to integration
How many times have I felt that same way, integrating? At times I felt like a salmon swimming upstream, even unaccepted. I felt what I was able to do in the US would never be available to me here, because of the language or the mentality. But here I am. Despite being terrible in German, I write in it. I found a way. I found someone to correct me so you can understand me.
But that’s my point. For those of you out there who feel that life here is too hard, is not working. Be patient. Keep searching for new options. It won’t just happen. You have to make an effort. What small step could you take to get you closer to the life you want here? And the next step. Brainstorm and write them down. Are you experiencing all that Switzerland has to offer? Nature? The culture? Sports? Are you a people person? Could you join a sports club or a “treff” (meeting) from Mintegra/Integrations Office or an international club? What will it take for you to reach the mountain peak where you can see all of the magnificent opportunities at your feet?
I would love to help you. And of course, if you’re looking for a professional consultation, www.mintegra.ch is there for you.
Vicki
©Copyright Vicki Gabathuler 2017