Don’t Touch Those Cords

It was the Ides of March 1998, at Utah’s Snowbird Ski Resort. Tim and I had driven up the canyon with the convertible top down and our skis extending out from the backseat. After one run down the ski slope, I realized the spring conditions were hard packed from thawing the day before and freezing overnight. I decided to sit in the warm sunshine on the plaza until the snow softened.

A little later, I ventured over to the Peruvian chairlift and was surprised to see Tim skiing down the mountain. He said, “I let my friends go on. I’m going to ski with you for a while.” On the way up the chairlift, Tim turned his head to look at me and I saw tears in his eyes. I asked what happened and he said that he had fallen hard and that his right arm didn’t work very well. He tried to touch his nose, but his hand wouldn’t respond. I said we should ski down the mountain to the car.

When we got to the parking lot, a friend who is a nurse said that it sounded like a pinched nerve. She recommended going to the health clinic at the mountain. I knew Tim must be in pain because he agreed to go.

The doctor’s x-ray determined that he had broken his neck and he needed to go to the hospital. The problem was that the only road down the Little Cottonwood Canyon had been closed for avalanche control. They tried to arrange a helicopter, but to his disappointment, that wasn’t feasible. Instead, the road patrol opened the canyon for the ambulance to take Tim and me to follow in the convertible - with the top up for all that was worth.

On the way down I watched little snowballs roll off the mountain and hit the road. I knew there wouldn’t be much protection if an avalanche broke loose. Even worse, Tim was strapped to a backboard inside the ambulance. We made it to the hospital and twelve hours after his fall, he had surgery. Fortunately he fully recovered.

Today, I learned that a friend, Bruce, is scheduled for neck surgery. Twenty years ago, the two of us became friends when we were both presidents of our local chapter of the National Speaker’s Association. The doctor will make the incision in the front of his neck. There is a concern that damage to his vocal cords may occur during the surgery. This would alter his life tremendously since he is a professional speaker.

Today’s gift was to send Bruce a get-well card with wishes for a speedy recovery. I told him about Tim’s surgery and his successful recovery. Even though I haven’t spoken to Bruce for several years, I look forward to him being able to speak with me after the doctors repair his neck and keep this professional speaker’s vocal chords in business.

In Giving,

Robin