Every year at this time, the emergency rooms fill with men who thought they could still climb roofs. I was one of them.
It was a cold morning in 1990, the shingles slick with fog and dew. I was up there hanging Christmas lights, trying to get them just right before the weekend rain. One foot slipped, I grabbed for the eaves and missed. I hit the driveway, feet first.
Concrete doesn’t give.
The emergency room doctor said, “We see this every year. Some never walk again.” Seven hours of reconstructive surgery later, I had cadaver bone grafts and enough metal in my heels and ankles to pick up a radio signal. A week in the hospital. Three months in a wheelchair. Then thirty years of chronic pain that never left. It just became my life.
There’s a quiet kind of fatigue that comes from hurting every day. You don’t complain, you learn to live with it. In my case, I was never able to run or even walk quickly again. My ankles are somewhat fused. I will always limp. I’ve learned to budget my energy. A trip to the store, a walk around the block—everything has a cost. You start to forget what normal ever felt like. My surgeon told me I was lucky to walk, but I would never be the same.
CarolAnn and I met on a country-swing dance team. We never danced together again after my roof-skiing adventure. Long walks together became memories. I gained a ton of weight. The way my injury altered my wife’s life has always been my quiet regret.
Then, after thirty years, science caught up. Finally, I tried a regenerative therapy that used my own blood and bone-marrow cells to jump-start healing. For reasons that can’t (or won’t) be fully explained, it worked. I walk now without pain. Call it medicine, or maybe just grace. I call it a miracle.
Every year at this time, when the neighborhood lights start to go up, I think about that morning long ago—how a few wet shingles changed everything, and how lucky I am to be standing here watching but grimacing as someone else climbs the ladder.
So if you’re tempted to get on the roof this holiday season, take it from a guy who’s tested gravity firsthand: some miracles are best admired from the ground.
Be a real man. Hire a professional.
I remember when this happened to you and it comes to me every time I think about climbing on my roof. I’m glad you were able to find something to help you gain back what you lost. That’s awesome!
Me, I stay off roofs at all costs. The heights are enough. Maybe your experience and talking about it may keep someone else from doing it.
I guess if there is a bright side, you could have fell head first. Then who knows the outcome. A painful experience no doubt and a vital lesson learned. But…you’re still here talking about it. I think we’re all grateful for that.