Breaking the Ice: Skating Dreams and Shattered Elbows

In the Summer of 2023, I fell into a Booktok hole and read Icebreaker by Hannah Grace. I also binge-watched the show Spinning Out and nostalgically rewatched Ice Princess, starring Michelle Trachtenberg. I was exposed to media, where the theme was ice skating. Naturally, being me, I cannot be normal about anything and passively enjoy this theme. No, I had to live it.

I wanted to start a new hobby, and I was certain, that Ice skating would be it. My new University offered ice skating classes in the winter, which I took as a cosmic sign. I envisioned myself gliding effortlessly across the ice, twirling and jumping. Okay, maybe not jumping, but at least one little spin. Bonus points if I stumble into an ice hockey romance. Even though I know nothing about ice hockey, a girl can dream, right?

So, fast-forward to my first class in January 2024. I went there without knowing anyone, plus I haven’t stood on the ice in over a decade. What could go wrong, right? RIGHT? Some might call it optimistic, others delusional. The first two sessions happened. Yeah, nothing else, they just happened. I did not fall, but I really didn’t move much either. I undoubtedly was the worst in the class, but never mind it is a matter of time and practice, I told myself. I even ordered some cute legwarmers and headbands to fully play the of the ice-skating princess. I was committed.

I made an ice-skating friend, and we decided to go to the rink to practice on a Sunday evening. Not the best day in winter, let me tell you that. Half an hour into our session, I fell. Falling isn’t bad, but how and on what you fall is the crucial thing. My theory is that a lot of ice hockey players were carving holes into the rink with their aggressive hockey stops, and I, the incredibly clumsy but soon-to-be professional ice-skating prodigy, got stuck. I fell elbow-first, I think. Can’t remember to be honest. So much for the ice hockey romance I’d been daydreaming about because Icebreaker ruined my perspective on things. Now, I only had icy disdain for those hockey players.

Everything went black for a second as my circulation was saying goodbye. Stubborn as I am, I think it’s not bad. I manage to get off the ice, but I cannot rotate my arm. Even after waiting a while, I still cannot properly move my arm. My ice-skating friend – a med student – tells me I should get it checked out. A suggestion that didn’t receive a positive response. I have imposter syndrome. What if I waltzed into the ER only to be told I had a mere bruise?

No way will I spend my SUNDAY evening at the ER for a little bruise and taking up their space and resources. I am nothing but a people pleaser and I won’t become an inconvenience for anyone, even if my arm might be broken and it is their job. But the first aid at the rink confirmed the advice of getting it checked out. They make me a silly little make-shift splint, which makes it impossible to get your sweater and jacket on in winter.

We took the bus to the ER. If I wasn’t humbled by life already, this experience would do the job. Major props to this girl who accompanied me. I told her to go home because, in no way, shape, or form, I’ll make someone stay with me on a Sunday at the ER.

If you know anything about Hamburg at night, you know it isn’t a nice place. Especially the ER close to the central station isn’t. I was sitting there in the ER with my cute little skating outfit among a lot of drunk people snoring and getting sober. While waiting for my X-ray I made some close friends stories because I don’t suffer in silence: if I am going down everyone will know about it and I will make it everyone else’s problem. There was a man with an IV in his arm wandering around, asking everyone, even the ones almost unconscious, if they had a cigarette. I remember that, after a while, his arm was in a cast but hey, he knows where his priorities are. Another man was incredibly drunk asleep on the chair next to me falling over towards me, which was also a very comfortable experience to be in. Great place to be at night!

Hours later, I finally got the X-ray done and now I waited again for the results. An eternity later, McSteamy 2.0 appeared, and while I was entertaining my Grey’s Anatomy delusion, the handsome doctor told me that I had a “radial head fracture” and that I needed a cast for about six weeks. None of these words were in my vocabulary besides "cast" and "six weeks". The cast I was getting wasn’t your usual cast at the wrist. No, I was getting a full-arm-to-shoulder 90-degree cast because to heal the elbow, you are required to get the probably most embarrassing cast of all time.

Honestly, the ER probably witnessed some of my lowest moments. I called my parents to tell them I was in the hospital and cried on the phone to them on speaker, which isn’t one of my proudest moments as a 24-year-old. The good thing is, most of the people there were drunk and probably had their own shame to deal with. Leaving the hospital at 11 p.m., after spending 3 hours in the ER on a Sunday evening, broken (literally) and humbled for eternity I walked out of that hospital with my full-arm in plaster. Personally, I think I’ve gone through enough by now, but things could get worse: I had to run to catch the last bus home. If you know anything about me, I rarely run for the bus and surely am not pleased about doing it with one arm immobilised.

Oh, the final indignity? Two days before my accident, I ordered a pair of skates for my birthday. I never got to use them that season. I also had to pay for the full class despite not being able to skate.

Moral of the story? My old roommate always said, “Don’t let your dreams be dreams”. However, this might not apply to everything. Be careful. This couldn’t be me though. 11 Months later, I am back on the ice with my skates I've never gotten to use (they’re great). I am stubborn and want to make the Ice Princess vision come true. We will see what happens. I haven’t broken anything again. Yet. But, hey, at least I have a great story, some might say an icebreaker.