Then I fell and hit my head on the bench.

Three floors below Roger Machet was about to open a bottle of wine for one of the tables when Brooke saw him look up towards our room three floors above. He quickly glanced over at Brooke, dropped the bottle and ran out of the dining room and grabbed a pass key from the registration desk and ran up the three flights of stairs. Brooke followed closely behind him.

Roger burst into the room in time to grab my arm, pull me off the bed, turn me over and slapped my back until I began to start choking. By the time Brooke came into the room I was crying and so was Roger. Brooke sat on the bed bewildered and asked what had happened.

Roger explained I had been swallowing my tongue. Even though Roger couldn’t have heard me hit my head, I had a big knot on my the side of my head. Roger was holding me and rocking me to calm me down. I know he called me a name of endearment but when I asked him later what it was, he wouldn’t tell me what it was.

The next morning Roger came up to the room with a bottle of liniment and rubbed my shoulders to try and help get the knots out. I told Brooke later that day I wasn’t going to return to the US but she insisted if I wanted to return that would be one thing, but I had to complete the ski trip.