Pole dancer? Doubtful

Let me just say right now that I think adventure is fun. While I can't stomach (literally) carnival rides and roller coasters anymore, I encourage Alison to test whatever waters come her way. Well, within reason. I wouldn't let her go to a shooting range, but if she wants to climb a tree and brave the tallest 'coaster she's tall enough to qualify for, I say have at it. As long as Jeff rides with her.

So when she and the Ogdens were with me for a little while this week at work, it seemed only natural to ask if they wanted to go down the fire pole. One of our buildings is a former firehouse, and it came complete with old hoses and the pole. It's a rite of passage for most of our staff and some of our visitors.

Ali's first trip down went fine. A bit of a hard landing, but we heard the: "I'm alright!" and her steps pounding back up the steps. Trip two would have made the guys on Rescue Me proud. Trip three: not so much.

She bumped her chin, which made her let go of the pole about 1/3 of the way down. When she grabbed back on, she slammed against it and landed hard, more on one foot than the other, and a bit crookedly.

She'd bitten her lip, had a mouth full of blood and was sure she'd broken her leg. I helped her up and she laid herself flat out on the floor and just howled.

"I think I broke my leg!" she said.

I had a moment of panic, but I had the Ogdens looking at me, wide-eyed, for guidance, and a building full of coworkers to deal with. I comforted her as best I could and asked our in-house trainer to come take a look at her leg. After what seemed like hours, Ali was quieted, mostly, and Kelsey declared her break-free, but in need of ice from her knee to her foot. Fifteen-minute intervals, at least two rotations.

Kelsey was great with her, and she's soon to receive Alison's graphic thank you, which you can see here.

Alison's pediatrician said he didn't think he needed to see her unless she couldn't put weight on her leg. After three popsicles and a movie at Karin's, Alison's lip was fine; she was hopping around just fine on the leg and even attempted a handstand.

I'd apologized to my coworkers for the noise and gotten a whole bunch of really nice comments (everyone, God bless 'em, was far more concerned about her than about her tears affecting their sales calls.)

So I get home, get her settled in and we spend most of the evening just collecting ourselves. It wasn't until we were getting her ready for bed that I discovered another injury. I won't go into detail because it's of a most personal nature. I think everyone has slammed down on their bike at least once in their life -- male and female. Let's just say she took that to a new level.

But all is well now, after two in-person doctor exams and one phone consultation with a specialist. She's limited from strenuous activity for a week and that means no swimming or biking, too.

She was really bummed about it until we went shopping today. I'm looking for new basement/family room furniture, but somehow we came home with the bunk bed she's been pining for. It's no Holiday World (the weekend we'd planned) but even with the medical bills, it's probably been cheaper -- and more tangible.

Holiday World will be there next summer. She's having lunch with me again tomorrow, but she has little interest in wandering the campus other than to find Kelsey to deliver her note.

Thursday, she'd declared: "I never want to see that fire pole again in my life." Tonight at dinner, she said she might be ready to try it again in a month or two.

Frankly, it'll be over my dead body that she goes down the pole again. My friend Andrew, who is the unofficial sentry of the pole, said Ali had made history by being one of the few who've ever been hurt on the journey. That's a good enough adventure in my book.