u/pumpkincarrots

Currently at a summer internship. I’m going into my senior year of mechanical engineering. I have absolutely nothing to do at my internship. Every task they give me lasts an hour. I ask every day for tasks. I go out and find them myself. Still. The tasks. take. less than. an hour. I have taken. Every single training course the company offers. Every. single one. That’s more than 80 hours worth of training videos. I’ve done all of them. So before anyone is like “oh you gotta use this time effectively” i HAVE i will NOT BE HEARING IT there is NOTHING LEFT TO DO why is engineering SO MUCH DAMN PAPERWORK

So!! little engineering students from lower years. please help and ask questions for me to answer

eta: i am officially out of work. thank you for the distractions fellow engineering students :)

Hello! Anyone have any experience with the Solana hostel in Spain? I’d be going solo and staying in the dorms, but I’m unsure what exactly of my own gear i’d have to bring. Really hoping to not need to lug around 70m rope for 3 weeks by myself. Any info on the prices/what kinda gear they have and ease of finding partners there would also be appreciated

Again MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING for large fall and severe injuries —

Early April I (F21) fell 40 ft in my gym and broke my collarbone and both femurs. Very ouch. Very unhappy about it. Obviously. I was in the hospital for over three weeks. For the mental stuff I’m in therapy, but I don’t feel afraid or scared when I think of heights or climbing in general. Luckily my arms still have some muscle left, but my legs are pretty skinny now and aren’t fully back to full range of motion. I’m in physical therapy and go multiple times a week.

I guess I’m just asking for some stories of people recovering from serious shit like this and climbing again?

I love this sport and it’s how I met almost all of my friends. My doctors seem to think in six months I’ll be back to climbing but it might be up to a year. As soon as my collarbone can bear full weight I’m going back to the normal gym to keep training off the wall. I’ve been working out at home under the weight restrictions on my arms as my legs are fully weight bearing, but I’m really nervous about losing strength in my back muscles. I really don’t want to have to learn how to do pull ups again lmao. Okay so this is partly rant partly asking for reassurance

About a month ago, I was rock climbing and got to the top of the wall and fell 40 feet because my knot came undone. I broke both femurs and my collarbone. I was hospitalized for three weeks and now I’m home living with my parents.

I know it could’ve been so, so much worse. But that doesn’t seem to stop me from thinking about it all the time. I had maybe the best case outcome, and I’m still upset every day over it. I never lost consciousness so I remember every single second. I remember grabbing the rope as it came undone. I remember it slipping out of my hands. I remember seeing my belayer’s (my friend who I’ve had a very complicated relationship with, notwithstanding this incident) face, horrified, as I fell. I remember the pain, and I remember thinking so lucidly the whole time, and I think that’s the worst part. I can remember every single detail of that day and I can’t escape it.

I should’ve double checked the rope. I should’ve checked before I told my belayer I was ready to come down. I should’ve held on to the wall for a few seconds more. I should’ve not gone climbing that day at all and just studied for my exam that was the next day. I should’ve done so many other things, and now I am struggling to walk and move after so many years of being focused on fitness and strength. I have lost weight and muscle and am dangerously thin just from the time in the hospital. I tear up whenever it pops into my mind exactly how I got into this situation, and how long it will take me to get back to my normal. I hate thinking about how I won’t be able to climb for maybe a year because of one stupid mistake. I hate that my friend had to see me fall and I hate that I’ve been avoiding them because I know I’ll break down if I see their face again.

All my friends climb. I won’t be able to climb with them until I’m cleared, which is going to be a long time. I feel weak. I can’t work out, I’m non-weight bearing on my left arm, and my legs still can’t function right.

I guess I’ve buried the lead here a bit. But the main issue, the one I’m avoiding talking about it and thinking about and I guess writing about it, too, is that I don’t understand how I am not dead. I don’t know how this happened in the first place. I don’t know how my knot untied. I could’ve sworn I checked it. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it while I was climbing. I don’t know how I fell so that I only broke three bones. I don’t know how I avoided hitting my head even slightly. I don’t know how I didn’t break my spine, or my pelvis, when I landed on my feet. I don’t even know if I landed on my feet, but that was the doctor’s best guess. I don’t know how long it took the ambulance to arrive, but it felt like an eternity. I don’t know why the fentanyl they administered did nothing to the pain. I don’t know how I was conscious and lucid enough to be the one to tell the EMTs to just cut off the harness and not keep trying to shove it down my broken legs. I don’t know how I knew to check if my hands and feet could move while I laid there waiting for them to arrive. I don’t know how I screamed so loud my throat hurt the next day. because it did, and my ears were hurting from hearing it, and I don’t understand how the incredible never ending pain stopped, even if it didn’t truly stop. It went from me begging the doctors that they needed to just kill me in pre-op to me crying out for them to sedate me so I didn’t have to feel the pain anymore. I don’t know how I remembered how to use my phone to call my mom when I was laying on the ground. I don’t know why I grabbed my friend and wanted him to stay at the same time that I wanted him to be far, far away from me. I don’t know why I flinched when he tried to hold my hand. I don’t know why I still have aches and pains and how I’m supposed to still take my finals in three weeks.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to be myself anymore. I loved heights. They made me feel alive. I loved the adventure and the danger because it felt close enough to flavor it but far enough to not be afraid, and now I’m so aware of the danger that it’s like some fundamental part of me has shifted.

I should’ve known better. I should’ve done better. Now I have scars that I will see every day in the mirror for the rest of my life, reminding me of this failure, reminding me of how much pain it was, how close I was to never seeing my family or friends again, how close I was to dying at 21 because I was a fucking idiot. It feels like there’s no escape. It feels like the day I fell never ended, and I’m still falling, and the ground is rushing towards me and there’s nothing I can do but crash.