day 15—u can’t touch this

Daylene, if you're reading this, I encouraged Trent to let you know, but he insisted he was fine—it only required a Friday night trip to the Draper InstaCare to confirm it.

We’d spent the day basking in the bluebird glow at Alta, capturing footage for a reel I’d been dreaming up for a few days.

Set to the beat of MC Hammer’s U Can’t Touch This, we captured remarkable jumps (all courtesy of Trent), high speeds, and a few dubious dance moves on film (watch reel).

On one of the high-speed runs, Trent closely followed me, capturing footage of my skis from various angles. We selected a fairly simple run for filming purposes, and I had joked beforehand that if anyone were to fall, it would likely be me.

As we reached the bottom, I heard a loud tumble behind me. There he was, his left ski wedged awkwardly under his right knee, groaning in pain—but still laughing through it.

I felt extremely guilty because it was completely avoidable, but I knew he wouldn't blame me.

“Are you okay?” I asked as if it weren’t obvious.

“Yeah, but I think I’m done for the day. Also, I might need a new helmet,” suggesting he had hit his head pretty hard.

I didn’t argue. I had never seen the man fall skiing let alone call it early.

He climbed out of the hole he had made and spent a few minutes orienting himself.

"Let's stick to the green runs," I proposed, hoping to fix things.

We slowly made our way down the mountain. Once we reached the bottom, I noticed Trent searching for something.

“I think I should see the medic; at least have them look at my knee, you know?”

He tried to be nonchalant, but I could sense his worry mixing with mine.

“That’s a great idea. You stay here while I figure out where it is.”

You’d think something as important as medical care would be easy to find, but when has anything healthcare-related in the U.S. been simple?

I succumbed to asking the cashier in the ski shop. He pointed me to the back of the building: the furthest point from the chair lift.

Perfect spot. 

I resisted the temptation to ridicule the lack of foresight and returned to where Trent was seated.

When I shared where we’d need to go, he was also surprised, but maybe not as invested in arguing against the resort’s architectural decisions.

Once more, we progressed more slowly than usual, cautiously selecting our steps as icy patches dominated our path.

Upon arriving at the entrance, stood another challenge: a gentle slope coated with the same slippery snow.

“Just in case you didn’t do enough damage on the mountain when you came here,” I laughed.

We gripped the railings and proceeded carefully. Just past the door, a young woman welcomed us as though we were asking for a dining reservation, rather than seeking medical expertise and a potential diagnosis.

“Hi there! How can I help you?”

Trent’s glance at me indicated his reluctance to share all the details.

"I fell and slightly twisted my knee."

“We have a few people ahead of you, but the doctor should be able to see you soon,” she noted as she looked up from her desk to get Trent’s nod of approval.

“If you have travel insurance or coverage through your primary provider, most policies will reimburse you for treatment. Just make sure you get all the receipts and documentation—we’ll provide that for you,” she explained as she grabbed forms to place on a clipboard.

“If you don’t have insurance, no worries! You can still receive treatment, and we’ll explain the out-of-pocket costs upfront so there are no surprises. Do you have your insurance card with you?”

I knew what was coming next.

“I don’t. I just got new insurance, but I’ll see if I can get a digital copy.”

The receptionist nodded in understanding while Trent and I sat in the corner.

“I’m trying to find the email with my plan information.”

“You haven’t set up your healthcare account yet?” I asked, and then there was that guilty grin and head shake I’ve learned to decipher over the last year. 

The man cannot lie.

With both of us being unemployed, we had turned to the market for health insurance before we set off on our adventure. However, I guess Trent hadn’t been as organized as I had been.

“That’s okay. You should be able to use your basic information to create one and then get your ID card,” I reassured him.

“Yes, if only anything would load.”

We were both already connected to the WiFi but it was true: nothing was loading.

“Actually,” he said as he stood up, “I think I’m okay.”

Okay, maybe he can lie. 

He handed the forms back to the receptionist and she looked at me like this wasn’t the first time.

“Alright. If the pain gets worse, you should see someone down in the valley.”

We found ourselves once more traversing the icy tundra, which doubles as a parking lot, as we returned to the van.

Guess where we found ourselves that evening?