Ow II, Return of the Booboo

You'll have to excuse my lack of postings over the past 2 weeks. As you can imagine, I've been extremely busy at the Games. I'll try do a few posts to cover events leading up to the present.

I'll pick up where I left off, training in Altenberg. My secret weapon worked out quite well. The track was super fast, exactly as I had planned, and sharpened me up nicely. By the time I got to the Torino track it wasn't very intimidating at all. In fact by the end of official training I was starting to really enjoy the track. It became more of a challenge than an ordeal. But I'm getting ahead of myself, so much to tell.

After training in Altenberg, Chris and I drove down to St Moritz for some last training runs. On the way we stopped off in Munich to change our car for a big BMW X5 jeep. Clifton had some concerns about us having enough space for all our sleds and not being able to get to the competition venue in the event of heavy snow so X5 is was. Very big and comfy with a big engine to match. It also looks pretty flash, so we didn't feel like scruffy scumbags driving around St Moritz. Ironically it doesn't have much boot space but it was so comfy we weren't gonna complain.

Training was going pretty well in St Moritz just when fate decided to step in. On the last training run of the last day of training disaster struck. The skies clouded over, animals fled the area, quakes rumbled the land, statues wept blood and I stepped in too close to my sled whilst loading onto it. I hit the small metal bumper on the rear of my sled and split my heel wide open through the back of my shoe.
Twenty minutes later I was in Klinik Gut being examined by some very clean and efficient looking swiss doctors. I was extremely fortunate not to have hit the achilles tendon, that would have put me out of any sport for the next 18 months. As it was I got 4 stitches in the heel. It was stiff and sore but I had to hope that it would heal somewhat in time for my Olympic competition ten days away.

I think we all knew it was going to get worse before it got better. Upon arrival in the athlete's village in Torino I went straight to the Poly-clinic to get it checked. All seemed ok, I'd burst one of the stitches but nothing too serious. I knew there was some serious swelling on the way so I asked for some anti-inflammatories and was given panadol. Um, thanks, panadol. World reknowned for it's healing properties...of headaches. My italian was good enough to say ciao bella and his english was good enough to ask me for an Ireland pin so that's as far as that treatment went. We did the Welcoming Ceremony (more on ceremonies later) and headed up to the athlete's village in Sestriere, my home to be for the next couple of weeks.

Those who watched the opening ceremony may have seen me walking like a normal Olympic athlete but I can assure you I was strapped up and running on pain-killers and national pride. The following morning I couldn't even see where my ankle was amidst all the swelling and walking was impossible. Fortunately for my Olympic endeavour we had been assigned assistants, one of whom took me back to the poly-clinic in Sestriere. A combination of her translating skills and extreme boredom on the part of the staff there got me a completely different reaction to the one down in Torino. I spent three hours in the clinic being treated by no less than 14 doctors, got an MRI scan, all manner of electro-magnetic physio treatment, a prescription for antibiotics and some serious anti-inflammatories. That picture above is part of the scan on my foot. The light area to the right is the fluid and swelling on the inside of my right ankle. Not pleasant at all.

Over the next week or so I basically spent all my time between my room, the dining hall, the skeleton track and the poly-clinic. It is a credit to the body's power of healing and the good work of the physiotherapists that my ankle began to heal rapidly. It wouldn't be 100% in time but it would be workable.