the other night, while straightening up the garage a little bit to fill the new shelves i built, i came across my crutches. i’ve been off them now nearly as long as i was on them. for kicks, i decided to see how they felt – not like i’ve forgotten the ‘feel’ of having a broken leg or anything like that.
using just the right leg as my good leg, i swung around freely on them. it seemed much easier than it used to. perhaps it’s an indication of just how much concentration was required to negotiate through the menial surroundings. or maybe it’s just that i don’t have to worry anymore if i accidently put weight on my leg. when i switched it around, pretending my right leg was the injured leg, i quickly saw how uncoordinated i became.
instantly, it triggered memories of relative paralysis. the most vivid example i can think of occurred while watching carrie’s triathlon. at the park it was held at, near the beach, there was a little hill coming down off the sidewalk. it was probably four feet high and sloping down at 30 degrees. while i stood there on the crutches, seeing my destination all of ten feet away, i froze. i couldn’t make it down this hill. my foot would give out for sure, or worse yet, my crutches. any fall would result in tremendous pain since at that point, bending my leg was a two-handed process. reluctantly accepting my temporary reality, i crutched the several hundred feet along the sidewalk to a point where i could access the grass safely. later that day, i cried hard from a feeling of being trapped in a body that didn’t work, with a mind that couldn’t wait to get out.
and that brings me to my current dilemma – i still feel trapped. yes, life has resumed to mostly normal activities, in spite of the constant pain i have, but my mind has yet to follow suit. it’s stuck. i have these images plastered to my memory bank, and that seems to be the only thing i can remember from life PA (pre-accident). the imagine most engrained – okay, there are two – is of carrie and me.
image 1: we get done biking near entiat, which is a very desert-like area in central WA. it was a hot day with upper 90s and pure, direct sun. throw in a challenging bike ride, and by the time we’re done, we’re roasting in the afternoon heat. carrie suggests/demands a dip in the columbia river, which at this time of the year is getting assaulted with melting waters from a deep snowpack and glaciers. with water temperatures likely only a few degrees above freezing, we inch our way in. it was piercingly cold and the looks on our faces must have been priceless. the only look i remember is hers, and when i combine that with the excitement associated with the start of the relationship and the dramatic shift in body temperature, it’s hard to beat the moment.
image 2: we just took a walk together after work, along seattle’s waterfront, with pleasant evening temperatures. as we near her office building, a stranger on the street exclaims: “oh, just look at the two of you! you’re all smiles and so happy!” and we were. it was before the relationship got a dose of seriousness associated with the accident and everything that’s come since. it’s easy to see why i can so easily fall back into this image of life PA.
and so now, i find that i come back to those images often. as i’m writing this, i realize that these images, in a weird, twisted way, represent failure, and they are not unlike the images i long used during Bridge and canoe after not placing first in a race or the competition. but this time, it doesn’t feel like i had ‘control’ over the situation, and that’s where the trapped feeling arrives. maybe trapped is just another word for powerless?
as a result, my mind no longer functions the way it was learning to. i made tremendous progress with understanding, accepting, and improving myself during my ten months of counseling. suddenly, it feels like i don’t have access to those areas anymore. the world around me feels flat, not because it is, but because i have this trapped feeling.
the worst part seems that i don’t know what to do since trying to talk about it feels like a self-defeating cycle since i currently no longer have access to that world.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
ha!
funny. i was just browsing through old posts on this blog to try and rekindle some of the energy from earlier in the year. i came across my april 2 entry. towards the end of the post, it reads:
i’m positive my obsession with being in good shape now was highly influenced by my childhood and hanging out and being best friends with the fittest of the fit kids in school. i haven’t fully arrived at the level i consider ‘acceptable’ fitness, but apparently it’s good enough for others to like me as a result. is it good or bad? i don’t know. it doesn’t feel necessarily satisfying, but it is nice to know there are others out there i can hang with now. the real question is what happens when i break my leg, lose all my fitness and motivation, and become a slug? will they still be there?
i’m positive my obsession with being in good shape now was highly influenced by my childhood and hanging out and being best friends with the fittest of the fit kids in school. i haven’t fully arrived at the level i consider ‘acceptable’ fitness, but apparently it’s good enough for others to like me as a result. is it good or bad? i don’t know. it doesn’t feel necessarily satisfying, but it is nice to know there are others out there i can hang with now. the real question is what happens when i break my leg, lose all my fitness and motivation, and become a slug? will they still be there?
unpredictable
one of the most challenging aspects of the recovery process, and there have been many to choose from, is dealing with and accepting the unpredictability of my mood. there appears to be little rhyme or reason and that in itself is quite frustrating.
in the first several weeks following the accident, i knew there’d be emotional ups and downs associated with the pain meds, coming off of them, and my body and life returning to some sort of altered equilibrium. but even as the pain decreased and the progress moved forward, there was little correlation to my attitude.
i think it’s easy for the outsider (i.e. anyone but me) to look at it and think:
wow, look at the progress you’ve made. you must be so happy!
but for me, it appears to be different. for me, it’s not unlike the rest of my life and the way i look at things relative to me: it’s either 100% success or 0%. it’s a win or a loss. no middle. common theme, i know.
this recovery process is virtually a carbon copy with a different name.
okay, so you can bend your leg. great. what’s next?
oh, your x-ray looks good. great. what’s next?
weight bearing feels pretty good. great. what’s next?
and so it goes.
with every “mission accomplished” there is invariably a “next step.” this will not stop until i’m back at what i consider 100%, and that may be a long time; in the meantime, unhappiness and frustration and unpredictability will likely be part of my life, which of course sucks. but, this is how i operate. it’s what gives me drive and willpower and passion to push. it always has and likely always will. my greatest battle in life is always with myself. seldom do i get a win, but hopefully this time i will.
in the first several weeks following the accident, i knew there’d be emotional ups and downs associated with the pain meds, coming off of them, and my body and life returning to some sort of altered equilibrium. but even as the pain decreased and the progress moved forward, there was little correlation to my attitude.
i think it’s easy for the outsider (i.e. anyone but me) to look at it and think:
wow, look at the progress you’ve made. you must be so happy!
but for me, it appears to be different. for me, it’s not unlike the rest of my life and the way i look at things relative to me: it’s either 100% success or 0%. it’s a win or a loss. no middle. common theme, i know.
this recovery process is virtually a carbon copy with a different name.
okay, so you can bend your leg. great. what’s next?
oh, your x-ray looks good. great. what’s next?
weight bearing feels pretty good. great. what’s next?
and so it goes.
with every “mission accomplished” there is invariably a “next step.” this will not stop until i’m back at what i consider 100%, and that may be a long time; in the meantime, unhappiness and frustration and unpredictability will likely be part of my life, which of course sucks. but, this is how i operate. it’s what gives me drive and willpower and passion to push. it always has and likely always will. my greatest battle in life is always with myself. seldom do i get a win, but hopefully this time i will.
Monday, August 31, 2009
undecided
disclaimer: my lawyer suggested i not write much about the accident and the recovery process under the idea that the other lawyer (that’s representing the guy that made an illegal turn and hit me) will read this. true. that’s likely to happen. still, if that lawyer wants to try and twist reality, whatever. if he wants to know how the last nine weeks went, i can assure him they were quite painful. if he wants to know whether i’ll always question the condition of my leg while being active, i will.
during those past weeks of ‘censorship,’ i’ve felt somewhat trapped with my thoughts. writing is my outlet. it is my most effective way of processing things. somehow, things get processed relatively quickly once the proverbial pen hits the paper. it’s a skill that only seems to exist in this medium for it does not seem i possess the trait in realtime conversation or interaction with others. and for some other reason, writing to myself doesn’t seem to cut it either. it’s almost like i need an audience, at least for the sake of targeting what i what to say, to process properly.
…
i wasn’t sure on the title of this one. three thoughts came to mind:
-i’m back: which i am. i started walking two weeks ago. began biking to work again 1.5 weeks ago. did my first hike last weekend.
-all fixed: this would be a loose interpretation of my leg. it’s not quite fixed yet since it takes ~ one year for complete healing. no, the fixed in this headline would be in reference to my ride today. i got my fixie back from the shop last night (they’ve had it since the accident) and just couldn’t resist riding it. the purity of one gear was so blissful.
-a force of pure will: this is plagiarized from an email ben sent me. it’s perhaps the single greatest compliment i’ve received and represents exactly what i innately feel about myself – this deep burning passion to push in whatever it is i’m pursuing.
the journey back to the point i’m at today has been interesting. i’m not really at a point at which i can reflect upon it with the breadth required, but suffice it to say, much will be taken from it. perhaps one of the key things i will take from it is empathy. the story goes like this:
carrie and i were at a zoo tunes concert on wednesday night. it’s a local summertime thing where bands come in and play at the zoo each week. we went to a show about six weeks ago when i was still in the infant stage of crutch use – where going up or down even the smallest incline patch of grass was nerve-racking. that entire concert, i was guarded beyond belief since everyone is sitting on the grass, walking over each other, with kids running all over the place. the slightest moderately quick motion would set my leg off in a parade of pain. i required carrie’s assistance to both sit down and stand up.
this wednesday, things were a bit different. of course, with the resumption of walking, biking, and hiking, things are way, way better emotionally and psychologically. i can stand, sit, roll over, and do all the things one would expect out of a family dog. that image of being able to hold carrie again, under my own power and not my crutches, has become reality again. there is much to be overwhelmingly happy about. sure, there’s still pain and certain limitations, but comparatively, i’m not sure they’re even in the same ballpark.
at the show, i was being used as carrie’s backrest, while she was being used as my upright support. mutually beneficial :) i’m not sure how the conversation led into it, but we started talking about one of her coworkers and a little bit about his past. turns out, he had intestinal cancer and a stroke. treatment was done, but a lot of his memories were lost, though they can be rekindled from time to time. when i heard this news, something came over me. it was unlike anything i’ve experienced before.
it was sadness.
it was as pure as anything i’ve ever felt before. most emotions seem to have some kind of muddling – a mixture of a bunch of different feelings. this one did not seem to have that. it’s odd because, while my life has seen relatively few tragedies, deaths, or victims of illnesses, it has seen some, and to members of my family that are very close to me. yet, somehow, their news did not evoke the same feelings with with same clarity. i’m sure it’s not because of their role in my life (after all, carrie’s co-worker has next to no role in my life). no, i think it’s because i lacked the ability to empathize.
my life was unchallenged before this accident, at least in that type of hardship realm. so as i sat there at the concert, with carrie truly in my arms at last, tears rolled down for a good long while. they must’ve played two or three songs while i was crying… but i couldn’t hear the music at that point anyway. inside of me was a release unlike any other.
it was a release of fear. i didn’t realize this fear existed, but it did.
not walking.
having a permanent limp.
having hip problems.
and so much more.
this night at the concert, i felt i made it. i made it past the big hurdles. i’m almost back. it won’t be 100% for a long time i’m sure, but i’m close enough now that i can trick my mind into believing it is – kind of. the twinge of pain with each step i take serves as a reminder, but if i get enough endorphins rolling, like with hiking, that too dissipates.
here are some trips from the past couple weeks i’ve been slacking on updating in this formerly censored blog:
the flying crutchman
white river canoe
hannegan and granite
crater
during those past weeks of ‘censorship,’ i’ve felt somewhat trapped with my thoughts. writing is my outlet. it is my most effective way of processing things. somehow, things get processed relatively quickly once the proverbial pen hits the paper. it’s a skill that only seems to exist in this medium for it does not seem i possess the trait in realtime conversation or interaction with others. and for some other reason, writing to myself doesn’t seem to cut it either. it’s almost like i need an audience, at least for the sake of targeting what i what to say, to process properly.
…
i wasn’t sure on the title of this one. three thoughts came to mind:
-i’m back: which i am. i started walking two weeks ago. began biking to work again 1.5 weeks ago. did my first hike last weekend.
-all fixed: this would be a loose interpretation of my leg. it’s not quite fixed yet since it takes ~ one year for complete healing. no, the fixed in this headline would be in reference to my ride today. i got my fixie back from the shop last night (they’ve had it since the accident) and just couldn’t resist riding it. the purity of one gear was so blissful.
-a force of pure will: this is plagiarized from an email ben sent me. it’s perhaps the single greatest compliment i’ve received and represents exactly what i innately feel about myself – this deep burning passion to push in whatever it is i’m pursuing.
the journey back to the point i’m at today has been interesting. i’m not really at a point at which i can reflect upon it with the breadth required, but suffice it to say, much will be taken from it. perhaps one of the key things i will take from it is empathy. the story goes like this:
carrie and i were at a zoo tunes concert on wednesday night. it’s a local summertime thing where bands come in and play at the zoo each week. we went to a show about six weeks ago when i was still in the infant stage of crutch use – where going up or down even the smallest incline patch of grass was nerve-racking. that entire concert, i was guarded beyond belief since everyone is sitting on the grass, walking over each other, with kids running all over the place. the slightest moderately quick motion would set my leg off in a parade of pain. i required carrie’s assistance to both sit down and stand up.
 |
| From carrie |
this wednesday, things were a bit different. of course, with the resumption of walking, biking, and hiking, things are way, way better emotionally and psychologically. i can stand, sit, roll over, and do all the things one would expect out of a family dog. that image of being able to hold carrie again, under my own power and not my crutches, has become reality again. there is much to be overwhelmingly happy about. sure, there’s still pain and certain limitations, but comparatively, i’m not sure they’re even in the same ballpark.
at the show, i was being used as carrie’s backrest, while she was being used as my upright support. mutually beneficial :) i’m not sure how the conversation led into it, but we started talking about one of her coworkers and a little bit about his past. turns out, he had intestinal cancer and a stroke. treatment was done, but a lot of his memories were lost, though they can be rekindled from time to time. when i heard this news, something came over me. it was unlike anything i’ve experienced before.
it was sadness.
it was as pure as anything i’ve ever felt before. most emotions seem to have some kind of muddling – a mixture of a bunch of different feelings. this one did not seem to have that. it’s odd because, while my life has seen relatively few tragedies, deaths, or victims of illnesses, it has seen some, and to members of my family that are very close to me. yet, somehow, their news did not evoke the same feelings with with same clarity. i’m sure it’s not because of their role in my life (after all, carrie’s co-worker has next to no role in my life). no, i think it’s because i lacked the ability to empathize.
my life was unchallenged before this accident, at least in that type of hardship realm. so as i sat there at the concert, with carrie truly in my arms at last, tears rolled down for a good long while. they must’ve played two or three songs while i was crying… but i couldn’t hear the music at that point anyway. inside of me was a release unlike any other.
it was a release of fear. i didn’t realize this fear existed, but it did.
not walking.
having a permanent limp.
having hip problems.
and so much more.
this night at the concert, i felt i made it. i made it past the big hurdles. i’m almost back. it won’t be 100% for a long time i’m sure, but i’m close enough now that i can trick my mind into believing it is – kind of. the twinge of pain with each step i take serves as a reminder, but if i get enough endorphins rolling, like with hiking, that too dissipates.
here are some trips from the past couple weeks i’ve been slacking on updating in this formerly censored blog:
the flying crutchman
white river canoe
hannegan and granite
crater
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
a reminder phone call
like often happens, my dad will call me when i’m not by my phone or am sleeping. when i go to check my voicemail, i will sometimes hear a tale about something he and i were doing as we biked across the country together in 2007. a few days ago, he called and reminded me of our visit to minot, nd and the rest day we had there.
today marks two years since we were in new town, nd, and stayed in a hotel for the only time on the trip after some tornado cells brought havoc to the area. looking back from the seat i’m in now…. man does it feel far away.
the 2008 year of mountaineering really helped me find a new passion; it slowly cut into the incredibly strong resonance of the memories from the bike trip. of course, those memories will never fully disappear; they’ll just become intermingled with so many others. i think my dad’s message talking of the bike trip combined with my temporary inability to be in the mountains, or do much of anything, created some weird feelings in me. as of now, i cannot pin them down, but something’s churning.
and speaking of churning emotions, monday was my first physical therapy appointment following the accident. as i was lying on the exam table having my leg slowly taken through a small range of movements, tears overwhelmed me. these tears, interestingly, were triggered by no specific emotion or thought – they just came out.
was it the physical sensation of the range of motion i lost? or perhaps the pain that was triggered when my leg reached it’s new maximum movement position. maybe it was realizing how guarded my entire bodily structure has become to actually letting the muscles go and relax since it now knows of the pain associated with going too far. it was probably all of that mixed in with a little “i can’t believe i’m in this position” thought sprinkled in there.
regaining composure following a hug from carrie, we pressed on. a little while later, i sat down on a stationary bike. using my hands to slowly lift my leg onto the pedal, i positioned myself for some epic biking… err, should i say biking that resembled what i could do at the age of 3?
the instant that pedal began to move, tears really came down. i didn’t know what to fully expect upon returning to the bike, but i had guessed it wouldn’t necessarily be easy.
biking. such a simple motion really. it’s just round and round with the pedals. it’s a motion i’ve done roughly ten million times (literally) since moving to seattle. never before have there been tears like this. i recall crying on the bike trip when my IT band was flaring up and i was 90% sure i had to throw in the towel. this time, much like with lying on the table, the emotions and thoughts were nearly impossible to pinpoint.
it goes without saying that biking is an integral part of my life. taking it away like this is no small thing. nor is taking away all endorphins from my system. undoubtedly, there are many dynamics shifting in my body that i probably will never be able to fully identify, but will certainly know that something’s off – chemically, physically, and emotionally.
right now, it feels a touch overwhelming. all i can think about is counting down the days until i can put weight on this leg again. an image of this moment is seared into my brain; it is my carrot on the stick.
yummy pills
pleasant sight
getting in hollywood’s car
oh yeah, i found it ironic that my PCT guide books finally came in the mail. i got them at work today. seeing them sit beneath my looming crutches seemed only fitting as i’m now pretty sure the PCT is not going to happen in 2010. eh, it was only four years in the dreaming…
today marks two years since we were in new town, nd, and stayed in a hotel for the only time on the trip after some tornado cells brought havoc to the area. looking back from the seat i’m in now…. man does it feel far away.
the 2008 year of mountaineering really helped me find a new passion; it slowly cut into the incredibly strong resonance of the memories from the bike trip. of course, those memories will never fully disappear; they’ll just become intermingled with so many others. i think my dad’s message talking of the bike trip combined with my temporary inability to be in the mountains, or do much of anything, created some weird feelings in me. as of now, i cannot pin them down, but something’s churning.
and speaking of churning emotions, monday was my first physical therapy appointment following the accident. as i was lying on the exam table having my leg slowly taken through a small range of movements, tears overwhelmed me. these tears, interestingly, were triggered by no specific emotion or thought – they just came out.
was it the physical sensation of the range of motion i lost? or perhaps the pain that was triggered when my leg reached it’s new maximum movement position. maybe it was realizing how guarded my entire bodily structure has become to actually letting the muscles go and relax since it now knows of the pain associated with going too far. it was probably all of that mixed in with a little “i can’t believe i’m in this position” thought sprinkled in there.
regaining composure following a hug from carrie, we pressed on. a little while later, i sat down on a stationary bike. using my hands to slowly lift my leg onto the pedal, i positioned myself for some epic biking… err, should i say biking that resembled what i could do at the age of 3?
the instant that pedal began to move, tears really came down. i didn’t know what to fully expect upon returning to the bike, but i had guessed it wouldn’t necessarily be easy.
biking. such a simple motion really. it’s just round and round with the pedals. it’s a motion i’ve done roughly ten million times (literally) since moving to seattle. never before have there been tears like this. i recall crying on the bike trip when my IT band was flaring up and i was 90% sure i had to throw in the towel. this time, much like with lying on the table, the emotions and thoughts were nearly impossible to pinpoint.
it goes without saying that biking is an integral part of my life. taking it away like this is no small thing. nor is taking away all endorphins from my system. undoubtedly, there are many dynamics shifting in my body that i probably will never be able to fully identify, but will certainly know that something’s off – chemically, physically, and emotionally.
right now, it feels a touch overwhelming. all i can think about is counting down the days until i can put weight on this leg again. an image of this moment is seared into my brain; it is my carrot on the stick.
yummy pills
 |
| From accident |
pleasant sight
 |
| From accident |
getting in hollywood’s car
 |
| From accident |
 |
| From accident |
 |
| From accident |
oh yeah, i found it ironic that my PCT guide books finally came in the mail. i got them at work today. seeing them sit beneath my looming crutches seemed only fitting as i’m now pretty sure the PCT is not going to happen in 2010. eh, it was only four years in the dreaming…
 |
| From accident |
Thursday, July 9, 2009
pain
there are many things in life that cause pain, but most of them fall into two simple categories:
- physical
-emotional
and within those two categories, there’s so much cross-linkage between the two types it’s nearly impossible to tell them apart at times. case in point no. 1: my previous dealings with IT band issues. that bastard, which was a physical pain to start, ultimately hurt me so much more deeply emotionally than physically.
now, i sit, 2+ weeks after surgery from a very painful experience. the physical side of the pain was quite high – my personal highest on record, that’s for sure. i guess that’s what’ll happen when you get a ~45 degree shearing fracture through the top of your femur – the strongest bone in the human body – at nearly it’s thickest point.
as the days continue to pass, i continue to feel the loss of it all and this feeling only seems to be getting stronger – at least i think that’s what all this recent crying i’ve been doing is all about.
i love pictures and the experiences they capture. i take multiple thousands of them each year. i always surround myself with these pictures because they help me go back to those truly amazing moments i seem to experience relatively consistently nowadays. but now, post-accident, i find the pictures to be torturous – a reminder of everything i’m missing.
i’ve missed things before as a result of having to ‘shut it down’ for awhile to let my body heal. this, however, is so much different. this time, something was taken from me. it’s a completely different mechanism for the pain to originate and quite frankly, it really sucks.
the thing i find i miss the most at this current junction is the power of a hug. carrie and i still hug. it still resembles a similar motion we shared pre-accident. but now, something’s missing. i think it’s that very basic element of a strong man hugging a woman. that element is next to impossible to achieve now while i’m balancing on one foot or have crutches dangling beneath my armpits. that part has been temporarily removed from me and there’s absolutely nothing i can do to change it. it’s a very helpless feeling and it directly ties back into that of having something taken away from me.
i hate it.
- physical
-emotional
and within those two categories, there’s so much cross-linkage between the two types it’s nearly impossible to tell them apart at times. case in point no. 1: my previous dealings with IT band issues. that bastard, which was a physical pain to start, ultimately hurt me so much more deeply emotionally than physically.
now, i sit, 2+ weeks after surgery from a very painful experience. the physical side of the pain was quite high – my personal highest on record, that’s for sure. i guess that’s what’ll happen when you get a ~45 degree shearing fracture through the top of your femur – the strongest bone in the human body – at nearly it’s thickest point.
as the days continue to pass, i continue to feel the loss of it all and this feeling only seems to be getting stronger – at least i think that’s what all this recent crying i’ve been doing is all about.
i love pictures and the experiences they capture. i take multiple thousands of them each year. i always surround myself with these pictures because they help me go back to those truly amazing moments i seem to experience relatively consistently nowadays. but now, post-accident, i find the pictures to be torturous – a reminder of everything i’m missing.
i’ve missed things before as a result of having to ‘shut it down’ for awhile to let my body heal. this, however, is so much different. this time, something was taken from me. it’s a completely different mechanism for the pain to originate and quite frankly, it really sucks.
the thing i find i miss the most at this current junction is the power of a hug. carrie and i still hug. it still resembles a similar motion we shared pre-accident. but now, something’s missing. i think it’s that very basic element of a strong man hugging a woman. that element is next to impossible to achieve now while i’m balancing on one foot or have crutches dangling beneath my armpits. that part has been temporarily removed from me and there’s absolutely nothing i can do to change it. it’s a very helpless feeling and it directly ties back into that of having something taken away from me.
i hate it.
Friday, July 3, 2009
tears rolled down my face as she left
carrie came over last night. it was the first night we’ve been able to spend together since the accident nine days ago. this morning, she left, backpack loaded, to climb mt. daniel with hollywood, modern, and others from my class. as i sat there on that familiar couch, pill bottles strewn all over the coffee table in front of me, i couldn’t help but feel the pain of missing out on it – missing out on us – missing out on the summer – missing out on the life i’ve come to love.
of course, this was all bound to happen, right? placing all your eggs in one basket doesn’t ever really help smooth out rough times. it doesn’t help when the pain meds you’re taking have numbed your sense of life and all you really have the energy to do is sleep all day. i’m normally good for reading about 2-3 sentences straight, then get woozy, and will have to start again, often rereading the last sentence. progress, in this manner, is hard to come by.
it also doesn’t help when you’re the kind of person whose spirit feels crushed if he’s sitting inside and there are blue skies and bright sun out – like it has been for, oh, many weeks on end, especially the past two.
so, nine days ago…
biking into work, like always, i run into my biking buddy that i’ve long referred to as: balance boy. he was the first person i encountered that did a track stand, though his style was with a geared bike and much tougher than with a fixie. there was a guy on my tail that seemed quite fast, so as we were all sitting there at the red light at the base of the hill, i remember saying to BB how it was going to be a fun little race up the hill – the most challenging hill on the ride. we all took off in a sprint. i eventually gained the lead which i would hold ‘til the top. another quarter mile later we hit an intersection that’s been under construction for a month or so. normally, i’d be in the left lane here, but because of the construction and the timing of the lights and our arrival, it was the right lane this day.
the lights are green and have been for awhile – maybe 10 seconds – but traffic hasn’t moved because the traffic ahead of the intersection was congested. as i’m heading through the intersection, all one-way traffic, out of nowhere (okay, the center lane which was obstructed from my view) a truck is making an illegal turn in front of me (and the other bikers).
shit.
there were about five feet between me and the truck when i first saw him.
shit.
brake. turn. hard.
shit.
bam.
i collided with the side of his work truck near the flatbed portion. i didn’t go down right away. instead, i was kind of trapped on the side of the truck, repeatedly bouncing off its side.
when he finally accelerated a bit, i went down – hard – landing on my left hip.
normally when this happens, you kind of roll around for a bit and see what hurts. the other bikers asked if they should call an ambulance. i told them to wait. most things felt okay, except when i looked at my left foot, it was completely flat and rotated on its side, even though i was sitting upright. i didn’t dare move it either. i felt the pain lurking deep below. okay, let’s get that ambulance.
a few minutes later, sirens blaring, help was there. rolling onto that stretcher board hurt like a mother. my body was tensing up too. i could feel things about to start spasming. where are the pain meds!?!
ten minutes later we were at the ER. the docs there did all their poking and prodding. one guy, apparently not familiar with the concept of shoes, tried taking off my bike shoes simply by pulling them off, as opposed to undoing the straps. duh. the shorts and shirt were easier – snip snip snip. where are the pain meds!?!
this seemed to last forever. i couldn’t imagine what was taking so long. they seemed so concerned over my elbow i think they xrayed it multiple times. wtf! give me the meds!
that’s when the spasms kicked in. wow. talk about pain. every spasm caused me not only to move my entire body, including the broken leg, but also for the muscles surrounding the break to contract hard. i recall thinking how i’d rather be dead than feel this pain.
finally, finally i got the meds. i was still in plenty of pain, but somehow managed to call hollywood to let him know i wouldn’t be making the trip that weekend – crying the whole time. then carrie – still crying. then mike – still crying. it was that moment, the first one with a reduction in the level of pain, that i saw my entire summer evaporate.
eventually, they wheeled me into a room where i’d spend the next six days. before i knew it, visitors were piling in. hollywood and mike let people know about the incident, and the response was quick. while it was great to see everyone, it might have been equally great to sleep :) oh well, i can’t really complain.
the next day was surgery. i was wheeled in to the OR prep area. i really felt like i was going to spasm some more – something i definitely didn’t want to happen. fortunately, the gas mask came on and three hours later i awoke. catheter was in. pain was seemingly under control. ahh…
the third day they removed me from the drip meds. i was not happy about this. the second they did, i could sense i was going to spasm and be in considerable pain, despite of the tablet medication they switched me to. sure enough, there it was. dammit! so much pain for so long – at least an hour. no one seemed to listen to me. all i kept hearing was ‘just breathe slowly.’ yeah, great idea. sounds wonderful, except that i’m already well past that point. after enough cursing and yelling, they finally gave me another shot until the pills were more effective.
i think i also ate my first bite of food this day too. my appetite just evaporated. it didn’t really come back until just yesterday, but even still, it’s minor compared to normal.
day four brought the walker and the removal of the catheter. the removal was certainly a weird feeling – one that i can’t really explain nor wish to experience again. it took a lot of effort to learn how to pee again and was quite strenuous as well. the walker was discouraging because it showed me just how far i would have to recover.
by the fifth day, the hospital was trying to discharge me. umm, no. despite not being able to sleep for more than consecutive minutes at a time, i certainly wasn’t ready to go home and be completely helpless there. plus, i wanted to be sure the pain meds were dialed in so when i got home i wouldn’t spasm there without aid.
day six, hollywood picked me up around noon and we were on the way outta there. i was given the 10 minute lesson on using crutches up and down stairs, so i guess they figured i was capable of being discharged. the whole time i was there, i met maybe two nurses that actually listened to what i said and took legitimate concern. otherwise, the rest of them seemed hellbent on just being right. it was weird. i guess the patient shouldn’t question the profession.
since coming home, i’ve slept much more. i get about 8-10 hours at night and then a midday nap of 1-2 hours. most of the time, i’m just exhausted. i hope that’s my body recovering from lack of sleep in the hospital as well as repairing itself. the days aren’t very productive. i do what i can, but my ability to focus is shot with the meds i’m on. going back to work is out of the question while still on the meds. i see at least another week off. i’ve set things up with a lawyer to handle this case and feel that i will be in good hands. it’s always funny when your soon-to-be lawyer has heard of you before even meeting you from the hiking community…
looking ahead
i have several things to tackle:
- getting things organized for my lawyer
- getting on top of rehab exercises – which are very simple mobility kinds that seem to hurt me a ton
- breaking out of my funk of not wanting to move – i hope this is more a product of the drugs and less of my overall state in life
deja vu
-only a day before the accident, i had this thought pass through my mind: “man, i’m kind of sick of biking to and from work.” it was surely a product of being so tired lately and never feeling recovered. but shortly after that thought passed, i heard a little voice screaming: “careful! you don’t want to be taking this for granted. just think of what it’s like to be in the position where you CAN’T bike, but would give anything in the world to do it again like you’ve said before.”
-when hollywood dropped me off at home, the scene i saw before me was exactly like that of a dream i had years earlier. it was just one of those moments where you know you’ve been there before. crazy powerful mind.
thanks
throughout this whole process, i’ve truly been amazed by the number of people that have wished me well and offered their services for my disposal whenever i need them. a lot of the people are from the hiking community and i’m incredibly greatful for that. and there are also those long-time friends that have stepped up as well. i could make a pretty long list if i wanted to, but i just want to give out special thanks to three people:
hollywood – the guy will drop anything for me and always have such a wonderful attitude about it. he’s always playful, always helpful, and just a great person to have help me through this.
mike – of course mike’s there for me too. he gets the behind-the-scene credits of helping me around the house and doing the little things that i can no longer accomplish, like sweeping the floor of the mess i’ve made through the week, or watering the plants, getting food, etc.
carrie – she gets the most props of all because she has to deal with the crappy emotional side of the story. i mean, sure, she’ll of course do anything for me too, not to mention the PT work that would otherwise be next to impossible to get right now given my immobility. but she has to put up with me in my down mood that i’m currently stuck in. prior to this, everything between us had been wonderful and glorious. and now, some external factor has jumped in and altered it. grrr! the plans we had this summer are now shot as well. simply put, a lot of things have changed really quickly, and she’s been incredible, like always, at adapting to the new conditions in front of her. i cannot thank her enough. and, as a bonus, she continually provides me encouragement to get out and move – even if i whine and resist as much as i possible can :) thank you hotpantz! you’re amazing!
the flip side
i could be dead. if, instead of bouncing off the truck, my wheels went out from underneath me, the truck easily could have run over me. that probably would have been the end of the story there. so, like always, there’s a silver lining if you want to find one. and now, i just need to continue to explore how to make that silver lining a silver lesson in gratitude.
of course, this was all bound to happen, right? placing all your eggs in one basket doesn’t ever really help smooth out rough times. it doesn’t help when the pain meds you’re taking have numbed your sense of life and all you really have the energy to do is sleep all day. i’m normally good for reading about 2-3 sentences straight, then get woozy, and will have to start again, often rereading the last sentence. progress, in this manner, is hard to come by.
it also doesn’t help when you’re the kind of person whose spirit feels crushed if he’s sitting inside and there are blue skies and bright sun out – like it has been for, oh, many weeks on end, especially the past two.
so, nine days ago…
biking into work, like always, i run into my biking buddy that i’ve long referred to as: balance boy. he was the first person i encountered that did a track stand, though his style was with a geared bike and much tougher than with a fixie. there was a guy on my tail that seemed quite fast, so as we were all sitting there at the red light at the base of the hill, i remember saying to BB how it was going to be a fun little race up the hill – the most challenging hill on the ride. we all took off in a sprint. i eventually gained the lead which i would hold ‘til the top. another quarter mile later we hit an intersection that’s been under construction for a month or so. normally, i’d be in the left lane here, but because of the construction and the timing of the lights and our arrival, it was the right lane this day.
the lights are green and have been for awhile – maybe 10 seconds – but traffic hasn’t moved because the traffic ahead of the intersection was congested. as i’m heading through the intersection, all one-way traffic, out of nowhere (okay, the center lane which was obstructed from my view) a truck is making an illegal turn in front of me (and the other bikers).
shit.
there were about five feet between me and the truck when i first saw him.
shit.
brake. turn. hard.
shit.
bam.
i collided with the side of his work truck near the flatbed portion. i didn’t go down right away. instead, i was kind of trapped on the side of the truck, repeatedly bouncing off its side.
when he finally accelerated a bit, i went down – hard – landing on my left hip.
normally when this happens, you kind of roll around for a bit and see what hurts. the other bikers asked if they should call an ambulance. i told them to wait. most things felt okay, except when i looked at my left foot, it was completely flat and rotated on its side, even though i was sitting upright. i didn’t dare move it either. i felt the pain lurking deep below. okay, let’s get that ambulance.
a few minutes later, sirens blaring, help was there. rolling onto that stretcher board hurt like a mother. my body was tensing up too. i could feel things about to start spasming. where are the pain meds!?!
ten minutes later we were at the ER. the docs there did all their poking and prodding. one guy, apparently not familiar with the concept of shoes, tried taking off my bike shoes simply by pulling them off, as opposed to undoing the straps. duh. the shorts and shirt were easier – snip snip snip. where are the pain meds!?!
this seemed to last forever. i couldn’t imagine what was taking so long. they seemed so concerned over my elbow i think they xrayed it multiple times. wtf! give me the meds!
that’s when the spasms kicked in. wow. talk about pain. every spasm caused me not only to move my entire body, including the broken leg, but also for the muscles surrounding the break to contract hard. i recall thinking how i’d rather be dead than feel this pain.
finally, finally i got the meds. i was still in plenty of pain, but somehow managed to call hollywood to let him know i wouldn’t be making the trip that weekend – crying the whole time. then carrie – still crying. then mike – still crying. it was that moment, the first one with a reduction in the level of pain, that i saw my entire summer evaporate.
eventually, they wheeled me into a room where i’d spend the next six days. before i knew it, visitors were piling in. hollywood and mike let people know about the incident, and the response was quick. while it was great to see everyone, it might have been equally great to sleep :) oh well, i can’t really complain.
the next day was surgery. i was wheeled in to the OR prep area. i really felt like i was going to spasm some more – something i definitely didn’t want to happen. fortunately, the gas mask came on and three hours later i awoke. catheter was in. pain was seemingly under control. ahh…
the third day they removed me from the drip meds. i was not happy about this. the second they did, i could sense i was going to spasm and be in considerable pain, despite of the tablet medication they switched me to. sure enough, there it was. dammit! so much pain for so long – at least an hour. no one seemed to listen to me. all i kept hearing was ‘just breathe slowly.’ yeah, great idea. sounds wonderful, except that i’m already well past that point. after enough cursing and yelling, they finally gave me another shot until the pills were more effective.
i think i also ate my first bite of food this day too. my appetite just evaporated. it didn’t really come back until just yesterday, but even still, it’s minor compared to normal.
day four brought the walker and the removal of the catheter. the removal was certainly a weird feeling – one that i can’t really explain nor wish to experience again. it took a lot of effort to learn how to pee again and was quite strenuous as well. the walker was discouraging because it showed me just how far i would have to recover.
by the fifth day, the hospital was trying to discharge me. umm, no. despite not being able to sleep for more than consecutive minutes at a time, i certainly wasn’t ready to go home and be completely helpless there. plus, i wanted to be sure the pain meds were dialed in so when i got home i wouldn’t spasm there without aid.
day six, hollywood picked me up around noon and we were on the way outta there. i was given the 10 minute lesson on using crutches up and down stairs, so i guess they figured i was capable of being discharged. the whole time i was there, i met maybe two nurses that actually listened to what i said and took legitimate concern. otherwise, the rest of them seemed hellbent on just being right. it was weird. i guess the patient shouldn’t question the profession.
since coming home, i’ve slept much more. i get about 8-10 hours at night and then a midday nap of 1-2 hours. most of the time, i’m just exhausted. i hope that’s my body recovering from lack of sleep in the hospital as well as repairing itself. the days aren’t very productive. i do what i can, but my ability to focus is shot with the meds i’m on. going back to work is out of the question while still on the meds. i see at least another week off. i’ve set things up with a lawyer to handle this case and feel that i will be in good hands. it’s always funny when your soon-to-be lawyer has heard of you before even meeting you from the hiking community…
 |
| From misc |
looking ahead
i have several things to tackle:
- getting things organized for my lawyer
- getting on top of rehab exercises – which are very simple mobility kinds that seem to hurt me a ton
- breaking out of my funk of not wanting to move – i hope this is more a product of the drugs and less of my overall state in life
deja vu
-only a day before the accident, i had this thought pass through my mind: “man, i’m kind of sick of biking to and from work.” it was surely a product of being so tired lately and never feeling recovered. but shortly after that thought passed, i heard a little voice screaming: “careful! you don’t want to be taking this for granted. just think of what it’s like to be in the position where you CAN’T bike, but would give anything in the world to do it again like you’ve said before.”
-when hollywood dropped me off at home, the scene i saw before me was exactly like that of a dream i had years earlier. it was just one of those moments where you know you’ve been there before. crazy powerful mind.
thanks
throughout this whole process, i’ve truly been amazed by the number of people that have wished me well and offered their services for my disposal whenever i need them. a lot of the people are from the hiking community and i’m incredibly greatful for that. and there are also those long-time friends that have stepped up as well. i could make a pretty long list if i wanted to, but i just want to give out special thanks to three people:
hollywood – the guy will drop anything for me and always have such a wonderful attitude about it. he’s always playful, always helpful, and just a great person to have help me through this.
mike – of course mike’s there for me too. he gets the behind-the-scene credits of helping me around the house and doing the little things that i can no longer accomplish, like sweeping the floor of the mess i’ve made through the week, or watering the plants, getting food, etc.
carrie – she gets the most props of all because she has to deal with the crappy emotional side of the story. i mean, sure, she’ll of course do anything for me too, not to mention the PT work that would otherwise be next to impossible to get right now given my immobility. but she has to put up with me in my down mood that i’m currently stuck in. prior to this, everything between us had been wonderful and glorious. and now, some external factor has jumped in and altered it. grrr! the plans we had this summer are now shot as well. simply put, a lot of things have changed really quickly, and she’s been incredible, like always, at adapting to the new conditions in front of her. i cannot thank her enough. and, as a bonus, she continually provides me encouragement to get out and move – even if i whine and resist as much as i possible can :) thank you hotpantz! you’re amazing!
 |
| From carrie |
the flip side
i could be dead. if, instead of bouncing off the truck, my wheels went out from underneath me, the truck easily could have run over me. that probably would have been the end of the story there. so, like always, there’s a silver lining if you want to find one. and now, i just need to continue to explore how to make that silver lining a silver lesson in gratitude.
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