Colorado,Krits,Keturah,and kinda hurtin’…

Greetings from Powell.  The past nine days have been bittersweet.  REALLY bittersweet.  

The Scott Family Reunion brought together our team of sixteen in Deer Valley, Colorado this past week.  My team arrived a little early to enjoy Breckenridge prior to playing cowgirls and cowboys.  A week ago saturday, my son Jordan and I rode up one of the ski slopes to just beneath the snow we had traversed the day before.  We took a break and then began our descent.  Jordan told me to go first.

He’ll never tell me that again.

I rode down the mountain feeling great about the time we had just spent together.  I thought about my son. His new bride, Keturah.  How well he had done climbing on his mountain bike.  How well he would climb with me next summer in France.  I also began to think about Krits and her rapidly approaching departure to KU.   My heart was FULL.  I was loving the morning sun beating down on my face and the sweat beading and rolling down my arms.  I rounded the last switchback and headed for the barn.  Down below, I noticed a rider coming my way and wobbling just a bit.  

The climb had been very steep at the start.  She was struggling to hold her line.  I tapped the brakes to further reassess.  I was going fast.  

I love speed.

A couple seconds passed.  I refocused on the trail.  As soon as my eyes met the trail they screamed!  

TROUBLE.

There was a major dip in the trail and I had a second to react.  I chose not to brake out of fear that I would launch myself off the front once I hit the dip in half a second.  I tried to ride it out.  I went airborne.  My feet were not clipped in.  I felt them lift from the pedals and that’s my last memory of my only flying experience.  

When I regained consciousness, I had no idea what had happened, where I was, what day it was, but I did know who I was.  I knew my name.  Thank God for that.  

By the time Jordan arrived I was trying to get back on my bike.  He told me to sit down.  I sat there for what seemed like an entire day.  I heard the sirens and wondered why they kept getting louder.  The next moment the paramedic was strapping my head to a board and my back pain reached my conscious state. For the first time, I felt a second of terror as I wondered if I was really hurt.  I tried to pinch my fingers as hard as I could.  They hurt like HELL.  I was never so happy.  Next,  I tried to move my toes…they moved.  I was happier.

Once inside the ambulance, my brain began to race.  I knew the questions they were asking.  I’ve asked the same questions to countless clients.  Do you know who you are?  Do you know what time it is?  Do you know where you are?  Do you know what just happened?  

I didn’t know.  I did know my name.

On the ride to Frisco, I observed my brain coming back into focus.  I screamed for Jordan first.  It was SOOOO sweet to hear his voice from the front seat.  Next, I began working on Terry, my paramedic, to convince him I was better than A and O times 1.  That means, alert and oriented one out of the four criteria.

I knew who I was.

Before we arrived at the hospital I was A and O times four.  My brain was coming back and I could feel it. What a strange experience July 26th would be…

The tests all went well.  My brain suffered NO damage…just a concussion.  My face was a mess and my back was kinda hurtin’.  My family arrived shortly after we did.  I was doing fine until Taylor’s eyes met mine.  He was scared.  His best Eugeneee was not looking so good.  His eyes were moist.  In a flash, so were mine.  I couldn’t stop them.  I looked at him and thanked God for somehow letting me land on my head….just right. I realized how lucky I was.

I could have been really hurt.  I was NOT. My right AC joint was seperated.  I would need a sling.  By mid-afternoon I was released from Frisco and heading to vacation.  I’ll be wearing this for awhile and then back to Eric for more rehab.  I’ll be slowing down for awhile.  

On July 26th I had an unscheduled dismount from my mountain bike.  On July 26th, I watched my son get the bug.  On the 27th, I sang songs with my Mom.  On the 28th, I hiked with my sister and brother in law. On the 30th I watched Jordan, Andrew, and their cousin climb the ridge on their mountain bikes…we hiked. On the 31st, I watched Jordan climb like a bunny while Keturah, Miss, Tay, Mary, Collin, and Evan rode by the Arkansas River.  On the 31st my Mom and I hung out.  We drove up the mountains, hiked a little, enjoyed some coffee and some meals.  She took care of me.  She adjusted my sling.  She made me more comfortable.  Thanks Mom.

On August 1st Andrew and I along with a guide and two guests, reached the summit of Birthday Peak.  

12,800 feet.

We climbed together.  He helped me make it to the top.  I made it with three limbs working and one motionless in a sling.  The guide had planned on leaving me on the trail once they had to “bushwack” their way to the peak.  He thought he would leave me there and pick me up on the way down.  

He thought wrong.

I was with my son, Andrew.  I was making a memory and was determined to lay down with Annie on the top.  We did.

It was COLD.

It was very cool.  I got to be with Andrew alone.  We stood on top the mountain and saw nobody for over 100 miles.  We gulped in the beauty as we gasped for air.  My back screamed a little louder.  I could hardly hear.  We made a memory.

This trip we made a lot of memories…

This trip, I slowed down.  I hung out more often with my Mom.  This trip reminded me what a gift our memory is.  

Slow down.  Reflect.

Make more memories worth remembering.  

Remember to take the bitter with the sweet.  Somehow life dishes both in seemingly distinct and very differing portions.  Take them.  Turn them.  Turn them into something grateful.  Very cool.

Thank God for the memory that you have…