As I stepped out of the door of the plane at 10500 feet, I felt that sickening suck-pop in my left shoulder. It had been four years since the last dislocation, but I knew instantly my shoulder was out of the socket. Not a second into freefall from the Cesna 206 I recoiled my arms from Henry and Chris and tried to assess the situation. I knew it was bad, but I wasn't sure how bad.
The group that had I left disheveled and confused maneuvered towards me as we plummeted towards earth. I locked eyes with Paul and waved him away from me while feverishly motioning to my limp left arm; at this point, regrouping would cause me more pain. Somehow my message made it through the howling wind and chaos of the skydive, and Paul retreated back into the group.
I turned and tracked away from the group to deal with my problem. I knew how to get my shoulder back into the socket while on the ground. It was simple, I just had to raise my arm high above my head and allow gravity to pop-suck the joint back into place. Three times I raised my arm up, three times I tumbled like a rag doll through the sky, three times I failed. I checked my altimeter...6000 feet. I winced at the thought of how my shoulder would feel when my parachute opened. I grimaced at the thought of the alternative to not opening my chute. 5000 feet. I drew in a deep breath and reached for my pilot chute.
My arm slammed down and folded towards my waist as my parachute opened and sat me upright in my harness. The muscles and tendons in my left shoulder stretched as the joint moved in ways not designed by God. I screamed out every ounce of my deep breath as I let everyone on the ground a mile below me know how bad it hurt. I drew in a deep breath and regained my composure. I was alive, I had a good parachute above my head, and I was close enough to the dropzone to make it to the landing area. On the other hand, I had one arm to pilot and land a parachute made for two arms. I approached the landing area circling the only way I could, with right hand turns. At 1000 feet I breathed deeply and calmed myself. I knew the worst was over; I had two things awaiting me on the ground--a group of good friends and a rough landing. I made the final right turn towards the landing area. 100 feet. I reached across my head and grasped both brakes in my right hand in preparation for landing. I bent my knees and brought my legs together, ready to dissipate the energy of the immanent hard landing by rolling. 10 feet. I pulled the brakes down with every bit of strength I had.
I felt the soft grass on my feet followed by the mushy earth beneath it. I had made much softer landings on my feet, but none had ever felt so nice. I immediately doubled over and held my shoulder. "What can we do?" Chris, Henry, and Paul all chimed in. "I need a packing weight. I need to get this back in the socket before all of the muscles freeze up." I grasped the 15 pound weight and let my arm hang limp above my head as I remained bent over. I drew in one more deep breath and relaxed each muscle in my shoulder one by one. Pop-suck "It's in."
No comments:
Post a Comment