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It was early March, nearing the end of our ski season, when my wife got the call. My oldest daughter was crying and screaming. My son was lying on his back at an awkward angle, unconscious. She thought he was breathing, but couldn’t be sure.
I hung up, called ski patrol and jumped in the car with my father-in-law and wife. We reached the base of the hill in time to see my son strapped motionless to a sled pulled by a snowmobile.
After all was said and done, my son was unconscious for two minutes (or less) and other than a 12-hour gap in his memory, came through the incident unscathed.