The next morning, Logel decided to run down, sans gear, to the car and the Ranger Station with two goals in mind: 1) get some books for me to read while they tried to summit the Grand and 2) inform the Jenny Lake Rangers what happened and change our camping permit. Mike and I waited for a few hours at our campsite in the Meadows while he did that. Mike, somewhat distraught by what had happened to me, spent about three hours practicing with his ice axe on a snow slope that flattened out long before hitting rocks. He took falls in every direction and used his ice axe to slow down and stop himself, the way I should have had I not wasted so much time panicking. He then came and undressed my bandages, checking my left arm in particular. It was still in a lot of pain and bloody, but I refused to let him clean it. It was also swollen in a few distinct spots and my shoulder had really started to hurt. I noticed a notch at the end of my collarbone that hadn't been there before and Mike was concerned that I might have broken a bone or two.
Instead of going back immediately, however, I wanted to let them summit. I felt really guilty about having fallen before we even hit base camp and I didn't want to ruin the entire trip. Our first day was wasted with naps and relaxing while we waited for Logel to return. The guys woke up bright and early (around 3 AM I believe) to start their summit the next morning. I had gotten up and barely made it halfway through my first book before they were back, around noon. The weather had been awful and they had to turn back by the Lower Saddle, where they ran into Ranger Jack. Additionally, Mike made my day so much better when I mentioned that I had lost my chap stick and he reached into his pocket and exclaimed "you mean this chap stick?" the same way he had done with my lens cap post-fall. We spent the day in the tent as it started raining and the winds picked up. The next day, they tried again only to turn back for weather again. In the mean time, I'd been having trouble sleeping and I had been unintentionally cradling my left arm, which Mike noticed. It concerned him and he told me that I should probably get down to the car and go to the emergency room. I was obstinate, again not wanting to ruin the trip for everyone. However, he told me that I had been mumbling in Greek in my sleep, usually a sign of stress for me, and that convinced me.
When they returned after the second summit attempt, they informed me that they had left their pro at the Lower Saddle in a bear box and that we were headed down. I tried carrying my pack on one shoulder but it was horribly uncomfortable and scary as we crossed snow and boulders that we had to scramble over. Logel took my pack and Mike took me, helping with all of the scrambling and letting me lean on him as we crossed any snow. I was terrified of it, especially the last stretch of snow we had to cross. At that point, Mike and Logel had switched responsibilities and Logel was trying to coax me across only 20 or so feet of snow. I was sobbing again, terrifying a group of small children that were on the other side and about to cross that snow with their dad. I had a minor breakdown but once I got to the other side and calmed down, I was ok. Mike decided to sprint ahead, since he was hiking faster than both of us and could drop his pack at the car and return for mine. He took off while Logel and I trailed behind. Logel's knee was starting to give him issues and the strap on his pack had broken, so I took my pack and threw it over my right shoulder, tightening the waist belt as much as possible. Mike had made me a makeshift sling out of my down jacket, which was hot but helpful. I hiked down as quickly as possible, constantly hoping I would run into Mike sooner than later. Logel was about 30 minutes behind me, struggling with his broken pack. I ran into a guy with crutches and spoke to him briefly about our respective injuries. Soon after that, I spotted Mike and a wave of relief washed over me. I gave him my pack and he gave me the car keys. He headed up to find Logel and I tore off for the car.
As soon as we all made it back, we went to the emergency room in Jackson Hole. I had just consumed a 32 ounce bottle of Gatorade but I was still dehydrated and weak. They saw me almost immediately and put me in my own room. I was given warm blankets and more Gatorade. I was so dehydrated that they considered giving me an IV. Instead, they wheeled me to the x-ray machines and snapped several shots of my shoulder; nothing was broken but they recommended for me to see an orthopedist as soon as possible, preferably within the next few days. They also coated my left arm in lidocaine and gave me some vicodin, scrubbing my arm clean and bandaging it with a sleeve typically used for burn victims. I was loopy shortly thereafter (my typical reaction to vicodin) and vaguely remember talking to my mom and picking up a business card for the local orthopedic practice. We then headed to a campground for the night and I passed out in the backseat.
Events occurred: June 24-26, 2013
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