Easter was late in 2011, and Monday, April 25th was the first day of school after spring break. I wasn't there.
On Saturday, I had been in a minor skiing accident. It was nothing, really--I caught an edge on some ice and fell down. Through the wildest quirks of fate, though, the edge of a ski made a 1" slice through my pants, my skin, my muscle, and through 90% of my kneecap tendon.
I left the hospital on the 24th and came home to a very long, tumultuous recovery. I missed the last 7 weeks of school that year, was using a cane to walk when school started in August, and didn't complete physical therapy until December.
I still cannot kneel on that knee, but given that I didn't think I'd ever walk again, I'd say the surgeon did a pretty good job. We he walks next to me, my son tells me he can still hear a difference in my footfalls.
10 years ago this weekend.