St. George

So we started our trip to my parents house on the wrong foot... or should I say leg??

David took the girls on a bike ride and Emma got scared going down a hill (pictured below) and stopped. David, being a newbie to clips stopped in time, but couldn't get his foot out of the clips and this is the result. He broke the top of his fibula and 2 places in his ankle. He had surgery (2 pins and a anchor to hold his tendons together) and is on the road to recovery!! :)

This is the spot I picked him up. This is the dirt he fell into right off the path they were riding.

This is the hill that Emma was afraid of :)

Madison at Grandma and Grandpas house

Emma loves the baby!

James and Sam playing with legos and Dasha

Grandma gave Sam some red licorice and he LOVED it!!

Emma jumping off the diving board onto that lounger thing.

Sam loved chewing on the sea creatures!

Madison riding grandpas dolphin

My cute James "wimming" - he is a fish - I swear it! He loves swimming so much he flooded my bathtub so he could go swimming again! AHHH!!

Emma just chillin'

We had a lot of fun in Saint George, but were sad David got hurt. Here is his account of what happened. He sent this in a letter he sent to his brother about it:

It was a beautiful summer evening. The day had been blistering hot with a temperature well over 100 degrees. But now as the sun hangs low in the western sky, the air around us begins to cool. I decide that with the remaining daylight, Madison, Emma and I will go for a quick bike ride. After a few minutes fighting to free out bicycles from the garage, and some time putting on helmets and CamelBaks, we head out down the road. Since we're in a back corner of a quiet neighborhood in St. George there are no cars on the road so I tell the girls that they can ride in the road as long as they listen to what I say exactly. We continue around the corner riding at a slow enjoyable pace. I shout small orders to Madison and Emma:

"Only ride on this side of the road!"

"Stay closer to the sidewalk!"

After only a moment we reach the path that we had planned on riding. The path starts out with a relatively seep decline followed by an even steeper incline. It's a beautiful reddish colored concrete path about four feet wide with a center dividing line. The path is slightly elevated about 3 or 4 inches above the ground around it. The ground
around the path, like much of the dirt in southern Utah, is a dark reddish-brown dirt. The high heat and dry wind keep the top layer of dirt loose with a consistency like that of a very fine sand. And everywhere desert flora--cacti, prickly bushes, etc -- abound.

In the past, I would ride as quickly as possible down this path so the trip would require less effort. Even with a good start, I knew I would be completely out of breath by the time we reached the top of the other side. Today, Emma starts down the path first. I follow close behind, directing her to stay to the right in case we have to pass someone. Our initial speed is acceptable, but it is easy to see that we will be walking up the other side of this deep valley. Seconds after starting down the path, I hear Emma's voice over the wind. From what I can make out she is afraid of how steep the path is and she's going to use her brakes to slow down. I think to myself, "ok, I guess we'll be walking the full length of the opposite side." All of a sudden Emma is no longer just slowing, she comes to a complete stop. I hit my brakes hard. My bike screeches to a stop, my front tire scraping past her back tire on the right side. How many times have I told Emma not to stop abruptly when someone is right behind her? And on a hill, just slow down don't ever stop! I open my mouth and start in for what seems like the thousandth time, "Emma, what...." my mouth shuts. I can't get my feet out of the clips.

My bike is ever so slowly tipping to the right. I am close enough to the edge of the trail that I know I will end up in the dirt, I can see exactly where I'm going to land: right in the middle of a particularly prickly looking desert bush. My heart is racing, time seems to slow. I continue to struggle with the bicycle clips as panic rages inside of me. At last, I free my right foot. No time to think, I need to act. With a brief feeling of relief, I extend my right leg down to stop my impending crash. The feeling of relief quickly turns to horror as I watch my ankle crumble under my weight and hear three gut wrenching cracks. And, for all my effort I still fall right in the middle of that particularly prickly looking desert bush.

The pain in my leg is excruciating. I writhe in the dirt, several choice obscenities escaping my lips. Not knowing what I did, and not being able to examine myself because of the pain, my mind races. I want to believe that I've just sprained my ankle like I've done so many times before. That in a few minutes the pain will subside and I can try to stand. How can that be? It hurts so much. I can't move it, I can't even bring myself to look at it. Tears enter my eyes and I cry out--I cry out of pain, but a greater portion of the tears are from the mental anguish. This was supposed to be my summer, the summer of Dave. I specifically didn't sign up for any college classes because I needed a break. I wanted to spend time relaxing in healthy ways, like riding my bike with my family, but everything I try to do backfires on me. The last bike ride I took I ended up crashing and destroying my front tire. Today, if I've broken my leg then the summer of Dave officially comes to an end. There will be no more bike riding, there will be nothing but misery. Why? What have I done to deserve this? Oh the pain...

"Daddy, did you bring your cell phone?"

The calm words of my beautiful daughter Madison help to bring me out of my mental hell. Not enough that I can actually respond to her, but enough that I can start thinking rationally again. Madison and I had gone on a bike ride together a couple weeks earlier. Before the ride I placed my cell phone in my CamelBak and told her where it was. I told her that if I keeled over that she should get it out and dial Mom. I guess she hadn't forgotten that advice since she had the presence of mind to ask me if I had it. I reached in my pocket and pulled it out. I dialed Lacey. When she picked up I said, I need you to come and get us. She could tell I was crying, and to my surprise she didn't ask why or what happened, she just said ok, with high level of urgency, and hung up.

I continue to cry, writhing in pain in the dirt.

Madison and Emma came up to me and asked if there was anything they could do. I couldn't respond; all I could do was cry. Then, out of nowhere, Madison says, "I know what we can do! We can say a prayer!" And with that she and Emma went down the path a few feet and kneeled. I wish I could tell you what sweet words were spoken, but I was not in a state to hear or remember what was said. All I wanted was for the pain to stop. I can say that I've never felt so proud or so unworthy of my children as I did in that moment. I wish I could take the credit for Madison thinking of prayer, but my house is not a house of prayer for I have not made it so. I know the inspiration didn't come from anything I had done or taught. My girls are wonderful and I am so proud of them both.

Well, that's the best part of the story. The rest is just emergency room and healing stuff, nothing too exciting. :)

I know this is months late and so many people know the story and helped and supported David and me. Thank you all so much! We both really appreciated your
love, understanding and time. He is healing quickly and will have the pins removed in October. YAHOOO!!