Pain and History

In 2007 I broke both femurs skiing and learned a HUGE lesson – never take ANYTHING for granted.

I was 22, playing college soccer and pretty much winning in every sense. I was on the student senate, had a cute girlfriend and could stroll into the dean’s office without an appointment.

A STUD, one might say…

But little did I know I was about to encounter a world of pain and hardship I had no idea existed.

While skiing during Christmas break I overshot a jump I had been scared of all weekend but decided to go after like a big boy. I ended up twisting my legs like corkscrews, chipping a vertebra, nicking my spinal cord and knocking myself out upon landing.

So I spent some time in a touch-and-go surgery and then ICU for a spell. But I came to. Not. A. Happy. Camper.

That’s a photo of the leg they pieced together from the shards of bone we called my left femur. When I came out of my painkiller-induced stupor my then-girlfriend broke up with me – over the phone.

I went from big man on campus to the guy who needed his mother to help him bathe.

I had to take nearly a year off from college. I developed a fairly-serious morphine dependency and those people I called “best friends” had moved on without me.

But almost dying, losing my friends and reputation irrevocably changed my perspective on life. PLUS being on crutches for nearly a year and limping for six months after that taught me a valuable, if not kitsch, lesson – life’s a gift, baby.

So just being able (a.k.a. HAVING the ability) to participate in a project like The Knife is an experience I relish like a fine wine or a good cigar (which I DO relish, frequently…).

So I hope you like reading it as much as I like writing it.

Because I like it.

A lot.


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