Just one more time I thought, I have done this a million times. That thought will stick with me for the rest of my life. Sitting atop the highest ramp at the Gig Harbor skate park I gentility placed the tale of my board to the coping of the quarter pipe. I’ll just drop in, Ollie over the top of the pyramid and then ride to the edge of the park. The speed gained from the 12 foot ramp makes it easy to glide over the top of the pyramid. It’s a 4 foot launch that connects to a flat top that’s roughly 5 feet long into a landing ramp. 6 feet in length with a slight decline. So here it goes, just one more run. I would have never thought that I’d be in intensive surgery an hour later. Someone once told me that in traumatic experiences the brain chooses to erase memories or never store them in the first place. My experience felt like a dream, I was 13 years old and my dad had dropped me off at the skate park with only 20 dollars, and his phone number written down on a note in my pocket. The last thing I remember was quickly approaching the ramp with a crisp fall morning breeze in my face, then it goes black. When I came too, I felt like I was still moving, but not on my feet, almost like I was on a luge, for a split second it was even peaceful. I later found out that it was my body sliding across the cement after I had brutally shattered my elbow. Directly above that I snapped my arm with the bone sticking out of my skin. I don’t remember the initial fall at all, which is amazing because I never had a concussion, I didn’t hit my head. Nobody ever explains what all your other senses are doing when you go into shock. People get so wrapped up in talking about the pain, that they forget to tell you how distorted everything becomes, that is what caught me off guard. When I opened my eyes I was laying on the cement with my board lying next to me. I slowly picked myself off the ground, my knees felt very week, almost wobbly. I looked around and saw everyone staring at me. I then found myself completely out of breath, and the harder I tried to breathe, the harder it became, like I was suffocating. My hearing was almost completely gone, all I could hear was this crackling sound coming from my arm, it sounded like I was constantly breaking dried spaghetti. And that’s when I realized this is serious, I looked down at my arm and saw blood soaking through my long sleeve shirt. I couldn’t pick my shoulder up and I had very little movement in my fingers. I stumbled toward the stairs to get out of the park, progressively starting to yell profanity as I came closer to the exit. The shock was really starting to set in and I was beginning to panic. I didn’t know what to do. Some parents that were there helped me to a bench next to the exit. They grabbed me water and asked me if there was someone they could call. I finally got the words out “check my pocket” where she grabbed my dad’s number. At this point I felt like I was going to faint. The pain was getting worse and worse from my mangled arm and I was very dizzy from the loss of blood. Luckily someone called 911 pretty quickly because the ambulance got there in no time. I’ll never forget when the paramedic had me bend my arm up in a 90-degree angle, he had to do it to fit it in a blow up contraption that prevents further damage, the pain was excruciating. After a couple minutes in the ambulance, I was begging the paramedic for something to deal with the pain, because by that time, it had become unbearable. My whole body was aching, and my arm felt like it was on fire. Once the Paramedic concluded that I didn’t have any head injuries, he dosed me with morphine and the pain was finally over. 3 hours, 2 plates, 2 large pins, and 8 screws later my arm was in on its way to recovery. The doctor said that I might not ever be able to fully straighten it again. I just used that as motivation. I pushed myself every day in physical therapy until I could get full function in it again. To this day my right arm looks a little different and I have scar that runs down the side of it. It makes for a good bear fight in the woods story when I feel like bull shitting someone. When I got the plates, pins and screws removed I hung them on my wall as a reminder, that just one more time, one more moment, everything can change. That last hoorah completely changed my life. The decision to do it one more time before lunch changed me. I will never forget that thought I had right before I dropped in, “one more time, I have done this a million times.”