The year when I was 12 was challenging in many ways. I've already described my head sawing accident, but that wasn't the only one. The scars from that one are almost invisible now, but with this next incident, I ended up with some lifelong issues and an amazing gift.
We were living in Huntington, West Virgina. Our next door neighbors were the Kings. Yes, they really were. I know it's crazy, but we were the Queens, they were the Kings, and the Princes lived across the street. The mailman used to say that they should have named our street Royality Row instead of Waverly Road.
The Kings had two kids...Rick and Paula. Paula was about the same age as Ingrid, and Rick exactly the same age as my middle brother Ed. Rick, Ed and me used to play together endlessly during the summer. One of our favorite games had no specific name I can recall but was pretty simple. One person was "it" and had a ball. The object of the game was to be the only survivor, and the way you survived was to hit other people with the ball. That was pretty straighforward except for one additional rule. If someone threw the ball at you and you caught it, the thrower was out, and you became "it". So you had to weigh your odds of catching the ball, or running and ducking to get away. There were no limits on where you could run or hide, and that made it interesting.
In the Kings backyard, they had a very tall, broad maple tree. Rick's dad was in the military and so was gone alot. Mrs. King was busy in the house a lot and we hardly ever saw her. So Rick got away with a lot of things we wouldn't dare to try...but we'd do them at his house because we never got into any trouble there.
One day we decided to build a tree house. Lot's of boys and girls do this in their childhood, and we were no exception. We did do something a bit unusual though. Rick had a nice crosscut saw, and we climbed up near the top of the big tree - maybe 25 feet up. We cut the entire top of the tree off, and it came down with a crash. The trunk left behind was still at least 18 inches across, and flat now. We took a half sheet of plywood left over from when we had built "The Building" in our back yard, and we cut a two foot diameter hole off center. We hauled to plywood up to the top, and maneuvered it on top of the flat trunk. I stood on a limb and moved up through the hole, and was able to nail the plywood horizontally onto the top of the tree.
We could climb the tree, get through the hole, and then stand on the platform on the very top of the tree. We had an amazing view from up there, and it was taller than Rick's house which was a one story home. We could play all kinds of pretend games there, and my favorite was to be in the crows nest of a big sailing ship looking for pirates, whales, and island paradises.
So...back to the ball game. I decided to hide on the top of the platform, when Rick was it. He had a good arm and was using a football that day for ammo. He could throw plenty hard enough to make it hurt, and that's what his real goal was. He had a bit of a mean streak and liked to hurt other people when he got a chance. I was laying low up there, but somehow he figured out I was there and yelled at me to stop being a chicken and come down.
Now I knew he couldn't hit me up there from the ground, even though there were a couple of angles where he could get a pretty clear shot. I also knew that if I came down through the hole and started climbing down that he would be able to nail me good...maybe even knocking me out of the tree. I for sure didn't want that because at the base of the tree was a big pile of broken bricks and broken window glass. They had been remodeling their house, and piled up all the broken stuff there for some reason. Falling on that pile would have meant serious injury and cuts.
So, I just yelled back that if only he could throw better than a sissy he wouln't need me to come down to hit me. Rick hated it when I called him a sissy, and invariably would do something dumb, or mean. I was taking my chances this time, but thought it might be worth it. He did just what I hoped he would do. His face got all red, and his eyes all squinty. He yelled something unintelligible and threw the ball hard up at me.
I jumped to my feet and moved quickly to make a perfect catch of the ball. I crowed with triumph that he was out...which didn't happen very often. My delight didn't last long as I quickly realized that all was not well. In order to catch the ball, I'd moved to my right and back. I now found myself standing with the football tucked in with my right hand, my left toes on the back edge of the board, and my right foot coming down behind me on nothing...nothing but air anyway. There was no way to stay on the board, and I started to fall backwards, still holding the football, and wondering how I could be so stupid.
Everything went into super slow motion. By now I was horizontal, and my body was rotating so I would be falling head first down to the ground 25 feet away. The first of the limbs and leaves brushed the back of my head and now my feet were directly above me as I picked up speed. I remembered the pile of broken bricks and glass, and knew I was going to do a head plant right into that pile.
Years later I read about how your brain operates under stress. There are three levels of operation: normal, alpha state, and beta state. We're all in the normal state right now (most likely). When something serious happens where your life may be in danger, your brain goes into alpha state. The world slows down as your brain speeds up. You can think much faster and something figure out things that will save you. Many people have this experience during auto accidents. However, if things get extremely serious, your brain can go into beta state. This state is reserved for only the most life threatening events. When this happens you lose all connection to the outside world. Your concious mind is cut off from everything. Your brain does this because it knows your best chance is pure instinct at this point, and that if your concious mind is engaged it might not do the right thing to optimize your chances for survival. For example, you might not run through a fire to get out because your concious mind would stop you from getting burned. But if that's the only way to save yourself, then you would die. Kind of makes sense.
So...my brain went from normal (at least as normal as my brain every gets), to alpha state, to beta state. I can remember when it all went black....I was now falling head first and branches were slapping me hard on the head and shoulders as I fell towards certain death. My sight closed like a tunnel and the last things I saw were my own sneakers against the sky and branches above.
The next thing I knew I was hanging from the last branch above the broken pile with my right arm, and had the football tucked into my left arm and side. I was bouncing up and down wildly as the branch absorbed my considerable kinetic engergy. I looked to the side that there stood Rick and my brother Ed. I don't think I've ever seen anyone more astonished than the two of them. Eyes wide, mouths hanging open, and both let out a huge gasp of air. They'd had been holding their breaths as I fell, and it was clear that whatever I'd done to save myself was remarkable.
Well, it wasn't that remarkable I guess. I'd just gone into a tuck, transfered the ball to my other hand, and then shot my right hand out at just the right time and place to snag that last branch. Maybe it was a miracle, but I'm pretty sure most monkeys would have yawned and been underwhelmed.
For about 5 seconds, I got a huge smile on my face as I realized two things. First, I was still alive, and second, and almost as important, Rick was out. I swung side to side so that I could drop and miss the pile, and that was when the pain hit me. My right shoulder suddenly felt like someone had shoved a hot poker into my armpit and out the top of my shoulder. I couldn't stop sudden tears, and gasps of pain as I hit the ground. Now I did drop the ball, and grabbed my shoulder. It didn't help and I doubled over with the pain, and thought I was going to pass out for a bit.
Of course, I'd dislocated my shoulder by grabbing that branch. It was a good trade compared to smashing my head on bricks and glass, but probably one I wouldn't have made if my mind had stayed in alpha state. Now though I had a serious problem, and so started to run for home. I gave up on that idea quickly though, as the running jarred my shoulder and sent even more pain shooting everywhere. So, I walked very carefully, but quickly towards the house bent over in pain and holding my right arm against my chest.
When I got inside, I found my mom. She asked me what was wrong, and I gasped that I'd hurt my shoulder. I didn't tell her the whole story because I knew that would lead to more trouble. She put her hand on my shoulder and I cringed in pain and pulled away. Mom said "So, it hurts to touch it?". I nodded and stepped further away, afraid that she would want confirm her statement by touching me again. But she didn't move, and just said "Well, then don't touch it.". I said "Ok"...and the diagnosis and treatment were over.
Even though I couldn't use my arm all week, couldn't sleep with the pain, mom stuck to her usual routine of avoiding doctors, and never asked me about it again. I didn't know anything about shoulders or dislocating them back then, but at least it had popped back in when I let go of that branch. I wasn't so lucky later that year with another dislocation, but of another joint (perhaps I'll tell that some othe time). As the days went by, my shoulder gradually stopped throbbing and hurting so much. I eventually could raise my arm over my head again, but never could throw a ball very good again after that.
After many years, I popped that shoulder out of joint a second time, and it hurt just as bad all over again. That time I did see a doctor, and then finally a wonderful massage therapist, Sara, who fixed it without surgery. She was so good at her work and loved helping people so much, that I became a massage therapist too. Who would have thought that a tag ball game combined with my monkey brain would result in me becoming a massage therapist one day?
Lessons learned: Gravity works, and I'm glad my brain is smarter than I am.
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