The next morning I woke up late and the darkness outside was unsettling at best. It took some effort for me to get from the bed to the window and when I pulled back the curtain I was surprised to see snow almost up to the top of the window. I called for Mike and there was no answer. Hobbling out to the kitchen I found a note from him;
"Lori, the snow knocked out the electricity at the mine and I have to go fix it so the mine doesn't flood. I may not be back until late so don't worry. Plenty of food in the fridge. - Mike"
Well, I was hungry so I went to the fridge and found a sandwich waiting for me and I decided to grab a beer, too. Yeah, I know, underage drinking and all, but I was planning on doing this at college anyhow so I helped myself. I watched a couple movies and then flicked on the Weather Channel and found that the storm outside was going to be a doozy. They were predicting as much as ten feet of snow over the Sierra in the next day or so and warned people about being out. I was instantly worried about Mike but not so worried that I didn't get a second beer.
The spring snow storm was a blizzard by the afternoon and four beers had me feeling pretty good and not caring so much. Until I heard the roof creaking. I realized that Mike had always been around to get the snow off the roof and now here he was gone and the snow still needed to be removed. Seriously, I was afraid of both being trapped inside the house and I was afraid of the house collapsing on me. Something had to be done.
I fumbled around and got on some of Mike's winter clothes and his boots and I imagined I looked like a little kid playing dress-up as I hobbled out to do battle with the elements of nature. Just getting out the door was a problem. The light powder would've normally made me thrill at the thought of snowboarding it but when it spilled into the mud room it worried me. It took me a good half hour just to clear my way out to the porch and then I had a better view of the roof.
It was probably a good three feet of snow built up on the metal roof and the ice along the edge of the roof seemed to have made a dam to hold it in place. In probably the stupidest move of my life (after wrecking my car) I hit the edge of the roof with the snow shovel and then watched as tons of snow seemed to take on a life of its own and slide down the roof.
Right at me.
I stood no chance of getting out of the way but I tried anyway. I turned in a pirouette making to get out of the way and I heard the distinct CRACK! of my left ankle giving way again. I vaguely remember hearing the right ankle give way right as the snow hit me and blew me right off the porch and everything turned black.
When I came to my senses I had no idea of how much time had passed. I was fortunate enough to find my head poking out of the snow and I breathed a sigh of relief knowing my foolishness had almost killed me. I started to pull myself out of the snow and screamed as the pain from my tortured ankles ripped through me to remind me that my foolishness had not been unnoticed by the Fates. The pain was unbelievable as I dragged myself through the deep powder to the safety and all-important warmth of the house. I could feel the cold sapping my strength and I knew I didn't have long to make it inside.
With a motion that can best be compared to a swimmer's butterfly stroke I made my way to the door. Every stroke brought nauseating waves of pain from my protesting ankles. Several times I had to stop to get my breath and to let the cold snow soothe the pain away. I guess it was easily an hour before I was safely inside the house again.
I needed the warmth of the house but the warmth also allowed my ankles to swell in new ways and the pain became unbearable. I knew Mike had a medicine cabinet in the kitchen and I toughed my way through the pain to get up to grab some pill bottles before I fell to the floor again. After a good five minutes of screaming with pain after the fall I found what I was hoping for. Mike had a prescription for Vicodin. I pulled open the bottle and took two of the pills straight off and just chewed them and swallowed. Without thinking I took four more the same way. I put the lid back on the bottle and dragged myself back to bed.
Getting back in the bed was a chore in the extreme. I struggled to escape the boots and even though they were too big for me it hurt to get my feet out of them. Then came the wet clothes and that was also no fun. It hurt too damned much to try to get the socks off so I left them on and pulled myself into the bed before the blissful embrace of the narcotic took me into unconsciousness.
I awoke to Mike looking down at me and stroking my face.
"Hi." I croaked. My throat was terribly dry.
"Here." He pulled me up and propped a pillow under my head and then gave me a sip of water.
"So, Lori, care to tell me what happened?"
I explained the events that had led to this moment and then Mike shook his head in disapproval as I told him of taking the six Vicodin.
"You just seem to want to kill yourself, don't you? You took six Vicodin after having four beers, you dumb shit, you've been out for two days and you'll be lucky if you can ever walk again. Your ankles are all blown to shit and I think the left one is completely shattered and I think you tore some ligaments, too. There's drifts over twenty feet blocking the road and there's no way you're going to get to a hospital in time to fix the damage. I set the breaks as best I can and we'll hope for the best while you heal. Don't you EVER pull a stunt like that again, you hear me?"
I nodded and felt like a little kid being chastised by her daddy.
"Christ," he went on, "I saw what you did and it was totally stupid and pointless. I had heat tape on the gutters and the snow would've slid off the roof without you being out there. Did you seriously think I'd leave you here with a blizzard coming and not think of the roof?"
I started to cry.
"Fer' fuck's sake, don't cry on me! I just don't want to see you hurt is all! Shit."
With that he left the room and let me finish crying. It felt good in its own way.
Mike came back maybe a half hour later with some breakfast. The eggs and the meat were delicious and the orange was wonderful, too. Right after I finished the meal he gave me two more Vicodin and then I was back into slumber land again.
For a good three weeks he waited on me hand and foot as my ankles healed up again. He did his best with what passed for physical therapy but couldn't get my poor abused ankles to resume their normal look. Both of my feet were now in very unnatural positions unless Mike was working with them and by mid April it was clear that nothing short of surgery was going to fix me up again.
Speaking of mid April, the snows were finally melting and the periodic rain was helping to free up patches of soil where little flowers were blooming. I figured it wouldn't be long before I'd be home and my feet would get fixed and I'd be back to normal. I spoke to Mike about the road clearing and he'd nod and change the subject to ask me how I was feeling. Because of all of my pain he'd left me alone and slept in his recliner but then one day I was able to get my right foot into a position good enough to hold me up and using a cane Mike had made for me I walked out to the living room and announced that I was able to walk again even though it was painful.
"Sweetie, that's wonderful news!" Mike got up out of his chair and sat me down in it. "We need to celebrate!"
He went out to the kitchen and I heard a champagne bottle pop. I giggled when he came back out with two beer mugs filled with champagne and he handed me one.
"Here's to my best girl and here's to your pretty legs!"
We clinked our mugs and I smiled as we drank. We chatted a bit and talked about the summer to come and talking about the future got me thinking.
