Haven't seen Part I? It's here...
They pinned my arm bone together, threaded a rod down my leg, let me wake up, and wheeled me to my hospital room.
"Now you've been and gone and done it!" I thought, "Broke your arm and your leg? On opposite sides? Whatcha gonna do now?"
My inner critic took over:
Still, it would be weeks and weeks before the bones healed, and months before I could skydive again.
No skydiving for months?
I'd been skydiving for barely a year and was just reaching the "good for a beginner" stage.
It had been an uphill climb. With obstacles:
...but it could have been worse. Other jumpers had sustained way more serious injuries. Some had been killed. Heck, if I'd landed in a worse spot, I might have been killed too. Maybe a broken arm or leg wasn't such a big deal.
Even artists had been hurt way worse than me, I remembered.
Al Capp and Frida Kahlo had both been mutilated by trolley accidents, for example. I wasn't doing bad for a "fall out of the plane" accident. Frida had broken her right leg in eighteen pieces (And her pelvis, foot, spine, etc.) Had I complained about my injuries to her, she'd be unimpressed.
...I knew I was a lucky duck.