Postcards from Hell
This was my first opportunity to make use of my photoblog for it's intended purpose, and I eagerly anticipated a massive first post from my Thanksgiving weekend jaunt to the Southern New Mexico ski slopes. We left early Friday morning, westbound on a deserted I-10, achieving an average speed of 90 mph for first four hours of an 8.5 hour trip with nary a state trooper in sight. The "I just want to get there" mentality sidelined any effort to take some photos, but we noted their location for the return trip home. Surely, they could wait.
Thus began two days of snow boarding and wind burn. I, relearning the ropes, and Dennis starting out from scratch. By the end of our second day I was nearly back to form and Dennis had come around to actually enjoying the trips down the slopes upright rather then just eating snow the entire time down. Then I lost him on our last run down the mountain.
A small message on a chalk board asked me to see the First Aid Station.
It was literally all down hill from there. Dennis had either separated his shoulder or broken something in that general area. That's all they could ascertain from their meager post. I was going to have to drive him to the Emergency Room in town, some twelve miles down the mountain.
After a few excruciating hours of waiting we were told all we would need to know for the next few days. He had shattered his upper arm near the socket and would need to see an orthopedic surgeon, in San Antonio. They could do nothing for him there in town and could only offer some pain medication for the long trip home. (It's little relief for so nasty a break, I know, I've been there.) After some debate with a drugged up Dennis and a few others back home, we decided to head back to San Antonio the next morning rather then immediately departing to make the late night run through deer in the headlight country. I dropped D off at the hotel, made him as comfortable as possible and went to get dinner at the nearby McDonald's.
Mmmm...McFood Poisoning.
I promptly proceeded to get violently ill, the likes of which I have never had the misfortune of experiencing previously. I think I did manage to get in a little nap on the bathroom tile floor between stints reenacting the role of Linda Blair from The Exorcist. Though I can't recall if my head actually spun around, I'm pretty sore in my neck, so it's quiet possible.
Unable to sleep, eat or drink I couldn't get Dennis home and we spent another grueling day and night stuck in the hotel, with only six television channels. The horrors! On the third day of D's needing to get to the ER I managed to get us back to San Antonio in what was the most miserable ride that either of us had ever taken. It was a very long 750 miles and absolutely no will to stop to take pictures was left in my body.
It's now been four days since everything went down. I've managed to actually eat something in non-cracker form for the first time tonight and Dennis has had his CT scan and should find out what will be done tomorrow. But, I find myself longing to return to the area in the next few months to complete what I initially set out to do. The area was ripe with interesting images, from the desolate beauty of West Texas, the fascinating wind farms along I-10, the incredible kookiness of Roswell New Mexico, and all the miles in between.
Thus began two days of snow boarding and wind burn. I, relearning the ropes, and Dennis starting out from scratch. By the end of our second day I was nearly back to form and Dennis had come around to actually enjoying the trips down the slopes upright rather then just eating snow the entire time down. Then I lost him on our last run down the mountain.
A small message on a chalk board asked me to see the First Aid Station.
It was literally all down hill from there. Dennis had either separated his shoulder or broken something in that general area. That's all they could ascertain from their meager post. I was going to have to drive him to the Emergency Room in town, some twelve miles down the mountain.
After a few excruciating hours of waiting we were told all we would need to know for the next few days. He had shattered his upper arm near the socket and would need to see an orthopedic surgeon, in San Antonio. They could do nothing for him there in town and could only offer some pain medication for the long trip home. (It's little relief for so nasty a break, I know, I've been there.) After some debate with a drugged up Dennis and a few others back home, we decided to head back to San Antonio the next morning rather then immediately departing to make the late night run through deer in the headlight country. I dropped D off at the hotel, made him as comfortable as possible and went to get dinner at the nearby McDonald's.
Mmmm...McFood Poisoning.
I promptly proceeded to get violently ill, the likes of which I have never had the misfortune of experiencing previously. I think I did manage to get in a little nap on the bathroom tile floor between stints reenacting the role of Linda Blair from The Exorcist. Though I can't recall if my head actually spun around, I'm pretty sore in my neck, so it's quiet possible.
Unable to sleep, eat or drink I couldn't get Dennis home and we spent another grueling day and night stuck in the hotel, with only six television channels. The horrors! On the third day of D's needing to get to the ER I managed to get us back to San Antonio in what was the most miserable ride that either of us had ever taken. It was a very long 750 miles and absolutely no will to stop to take pictures was left in my body.
It's now been four days since everything went down. I've managed to actually eat something in non-cracker form for the first time tonight and Dennis has had his CT scan and should find out what will be done tomorrow. But, I find myself longing to return to the area in the next few months to complete what I initially set out to do. The area was ripe with interesting images, from the desolate beauty of West Texas, the fascinating wind farms along I-10, the incredible kookiness of Roswell New Mexico, and all the miles in between.
posted by Paul Bubel at 12:22 PM
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