JANUARY 7, 2023 – Followers of this blog know that in the course of my stem cell transplant procedure back in late August, Drs. Killjoy (both of them) told me, “No more downhill skiing for you. Cross-country, fine; downhill, no.” Their perfectly sound reasoning was that the multiple myeloma had turned my skeleton into “Swiss cheese,” and a bad fall could do bad damage. (Bone integrity can be restored, but it will take a year or two.)
Today I cheated. I skied downhill—kinda, sorta—on “skinny skis.” Just as the most dangerous part of air travel is ground transit to and from the airport, so is my hike to “Little Switzerland” the most perilous part of my daily skiing. This afternoon I strode along a sidewalk, skis and poles in hand, I hit a patch of ice and began to fall backward. In that instant, however, my internal gyroscope compensated automatically, and I recovered without a visible hint of imminent catastrophe. My other brush with danger occurred a block later as I entered a crosswalk—after judging that the driver of a postal van signaling a turn in my direction would yield to me. Instead, he accelerated straight at me. Fortunately, in anticipation of that very possibility, I’d had a bead on the vehicle and sprang forward to avoid contact.
When I entered “Little Switzerland,” covered by two feet of fresh snow under a cloudless sky, I could easily imagine it as an Alpine region above the timberline. During the rest of the year it’s a hilly golf course, with trees confined to lower slopes and fairways. My entry point (“Little Austria”) on the northwest side affords a striking vista to the south over a thick glade of flocked evergreens. Today the sun cast its bright winter rays across the wide open scene. A nearby loop of the freshly groomed x-c course looked like a ribbon of candy to the eager skier. Off in the distance, on the backside of “St. Moritz” was the perfectly groomed, untracked downhill slope. It had my name written all over it.
I quickly transitioned from running shoes to x-c boots and tossed my shoes and backpack next to the same lone Austrian (appropriately) pine that’s served as a landmark for that purpose over the past 28 years. I then strapped on my poles and rode the powder down to the track. Surprisingly, I had the trail to myself except for a casual classic skier 100 meters ahead. I skated past him, then down the first hill, up the next to the “Aletsch Glacier” and made an exit at the summit of “St. Moritz.”
Plenty of downhill skiers and boarders were on the front side, but the rope tow serving the run named “Too Good Turns” on the northwest side (the side visible from “Little Austria”) wasn’t in operation. I could ski it with reckless abandon. I put Drs. Killjoy out of my mind, skated two or three strides off the top and assumed parallel form the rest of the descent, carving 10 smooth S-turns on the way. I was in heaven—without reckless abandon.
At the base I skated a big semi-circle and continued skating back up the hill. I repeated the cycle four times. Each round took me higher into heaven. Exactly a year ago yesterday is when I underwent a bone marrow biopsy confirming that multiple myeloma cells had commandeered my blood. Having crawled through the valley of ill-health, the view today from the mountaintop of treatment and recovery has never been better.
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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
