Last week for the beginning of the February school vacation, J’s parents took us to Val Thorens in the 3 Vallées, in the Alps. I’d only skied a few times when I was little, and so signed up for a two-hour lesson. We arrived Saturday, and I took my lesson Sunday. J and his family came to meet me afterward and we went up to do my first teacher-less slope. About a quarter of the way down, I fell, skis splayed in opposite directions. Somehow I skied down the rest of the slope saving me yet more accident paperwork for a rescue.
Monday we (J had sprained his ankle) went to the medical center at the ski station where I started learning all sorts of new French words.
In French, I broke my ligament croisé antérieur and my ligament collatéral médial. I spent the week going to the physical therapist twice a day, where the string of people with knee ligament injuries could make you think this happens to everyone. But the 3 Vallées is a gigantic ski resort with nearly 28,000 people every week during the high season, so really the dozen of us with knee injuries last week were negligible. But it did help to make some friends.
When we got home yesterday I finally looked up the ligaments croisés in English and it clicked—I’ve torn my ACL as well as the inside ligament on my knee. The ER doctor told me I can’t drive for four weeks, and I’ll see the surgeon here the day we go back to school, in the hopes that he’ll tell me I can drive! Otherwise, carpooling will be pretty complicated. I’ll probably have to have surgery before the end of the school year and won’t be rock-climbing any time too soon. I am nevertheless still going to Spain tomorrow to see family and hobble around Madrid.