In the annals of my life the years 1997,2008 and 2019 mark the moments in history when parts of my skeletal structure hasnât managed to deal with certain extreme pressures. In plain English its when I have broken bones.
1997 I broke the ball joint on my humors bone at the top of Mont Vallon.
In 2008 while competing in a dual slalom at the Stade in Meribel I fell, got stuck in some netting, and broke my fibular.
As we both went into shock I was transported back into resort where the following day, which unfortunately was April 1st and added a new twist to whether I was faking it, I was diagnosed with a broken medial malleolus which is a bone a) I had never heard of before and b) more importantly at the base of the tibia. Unfortunately it was displaced enough to require surgery.
So the following day I visited the nice people at Albertville hospital where a Dr Charles, the surgeon took 20 minutes inserting a screw into my ankle. I would like to point out that the entire surgical team were awesome and I never felt like I wasnât in capable and friendly hands.
I also had the pleasure of experiencing French hospital food, big secret its just as bad as English hospital food, which was enough of an incentive to leave the following day.
As of writing this just over 1 month later Iâm hopping around in a protective boot and counting the days before I can put full pressure on it and go about my normal life.
