December's Winter Wonder Land

December. Most of everyone is preparing for the festivities of the holidays. I think of them, too, but December reminds me of the time years ago when I tore two ligaments in my right knee.

My family and I reside in eastern Pennsylvania and this particular December we received enough snow to go sledding. Behind our house is a rather steep hill with enough slope to have an excellent sled ride. Unfortunately, I am the party-pooper of the family who does not enjoy winter sports, except if they are on TV.

I watched the family sled down the hill and decided this year I would participate. I dressed in my sledding outfit and walked to the hill through the woods. I heard my son Darrell say, “Yay, mommy is going to join us.” He was ten at the time.

I walked up the hill, dragging my sled behind me. The only thought going through my mind, “Are you sure you want to do this”. I decided my first trip would be a half-hill run. I went down the hill, no problems. I felt fantastic, and the ‘I can do anything attitude took over.' This time, I walked up to the top of the hill. When I started the first quarter of this hill, I was smiling, having a good-old time. Then I hit the halfway mark, and the sled had me at an uncomfortable speed heading towards a bunch of sticker bushes. Let me remind you, in winter the sticker bushes do not lose their sharp points.

I stuck my legs out both sides of the sled, and it stopped. However, my body was still in motion, and I did a forward flip into a snow bank. The next thing I remember—four faces with red cheeks looking down at me. I sat up, clutched my right leg, and cried “Oh, my God my leg, my leg.” I then noticed the kneecap was out of joint. I pushed it back into place feeling an on-rush of new pain.

My husband helped me back to the house where we proceeded to go to the emergency room. I was beginning a journey of starting with an operation to put my joints together, one week of rest, and then six weeks of physical therapy.

The next year, my family was outside sledding down the dreadful hill where I hurt myself. I watched everyone outside having fun in the snow. I knew the time had come and that I had to go down the hill one last time, preferably without hurting myself. No longer would I look at the hill thinking of my accident. I was going to reap the glory of no longer looking at our sledding area in dred.

I went outside, borrowed a sled, and walked halfway up the hill. This time, I only slid four feet down the hill. I stood up with tears rolling down my cheeks. “I did it.” I no longer was afraid of the hill. Then I heard a voice behind me, “Dad, did she hurt herself again.”