Over the course of my adult life, I’ve had numerous accidents, bike accidents, car wrecks, and falls. Usually there was a lot of blood but only two that resulted in major broken bones. I did break a big toe on a canoe trip and flip over my bike handle bars, landing on my head and compressing a vertebra or two but nothing like the two roof falls. Both occurred since I’ve been well past the age when the doctors tell you to never, never climb a ladder more than you can safely fall from. Basically, a rung or two. So, what is one to do when it’s miles to the nearest high school kid and out of phone service range anyway?
My first fall occurred roughly fifteen years ago when I fell off our front roof while sawing a large limb from our locust tree. I was successful but, wisely using the branch which I was cutting as my third contact point. Thusly, since I was leaning out over the roof, as the limb broke off very unexpectedly (?), I found myself hanging momentarily in mid-air, before plummeting to the ground 12 ft. below.
Shortly thereafter, we cut the entire tree down. It had been early, and I was still half asleep. The next thing I know I was splayed out on the hard-packed earth, staring at an ankle that did not look right. It was not in line with the leg.
The ankle repair involved two operations, each laying me up in bed for several months. The surgeon told my wife that it was like putting a light bulb back together again: 27 fragments.
The second roof fall was very deviously masterminded by my wife. It didn’t kill me as planned but I did break 11 ribs. This fall was from our cabin roof while she was holding the ladder. She said that I silently pitched over backward, landing flat on my back. At the ER, I told the consulting physician that it felt like I’d broken a rib. After x-rays, he confirmed I had indeed broken a rib and ten more.
While in bed recovering from those two falls, to stave off boredom, I resorted to doing crude cartoons of spud potato characters, which I’d been drawing for years for our annual Christmas letter. I decided to do a series on Idaho Spud careers, a few based on my fall. What follows are 8 careers that resulted from those efforts.
Dear Spud, Very funny and indicative that you are a total klutz, suited only for wrestlin’ which was the only sport you could have safely participated in because it was done at floor level. Luckily you could just barely clear the ground by about 3 inches, not high enough to stub a toe. TC