Tom

I spent the year and a half after my accident with an accepting view, figuring car accidents are part of life and even more common when riding motorcycles and bicycles as frequently as I do. However as the reality of not being able to walk for six weeks, not being able to drive my manual car, and not being able to ride a bike for three months started to sink in I became a little more resentful. The other driver was trying to shave two minutes from his commute and as a result my life was radically altered.

These thoughts were in my mind as I left the hospital Saturday afternoon and saw a hitchhiker standing on the shoulder. Having hitched plenty myself, I always pick up people if I have room so I pulled over and the man ran up. He hopped in the back seat which I thought was odd, but it soon became apparent he didn’t smell great so I was fine with a few extra feet of separation. He had tanned, worn skin, and the teeth he still possessed were crooked and misshapen. I thought he might be a long time vagabond, the kind that talk nonsense the whole trip and ask for money and want door-to-door rides, and I was a little disappointed I had picked him up.

Within the first few minutes he proved very courteous - shy almost. We went through the initial where are you going/what takes you there questions but he didn’t seem interested in pontificating about his life and usually went back to staring out the window after answering a question. He even declined when I offered him part of the sandwich Steph and Malin had brought me earlier in the day.

After asking a few more questions I found out that he was headed to the VA (Veterans Affairs) hospital in Denver to evaluate his cancer treatment options. He had been diagnosed at the hospital in Grand Junction, which was closer to his home, where they told him that he could fight it and live a painful five years, or ignore it and live a relatively normal three.

I couldn’t imagine being confronted with a set of options like that and suddenly realized my youth, relatively good health, and general luck were invaluable.

He seemed at peace with this choice, in almost a zen-like calm. I asked about family and he said he had a few children, one lived near his house and another lived in Denver whom he was going to stay with while visiting the hospital. He had been with his wife since they were teens – they had been married shortly after meeting while working in his family’s ice cream shop. The more I learned the more I wanted to know but I also tried to be deferential to the thoughts that must have been flying through his head.

I know the isolation that can hit when hitching – wondering who’s going to help with a ride while looking at the weather and setting sun and judgmental glances. I have no idea what it must feel like to face one’s own mortality, and I hope I never know those feelings on top of each other.

Talking with Tom put my problems in perspective. I had just been cared for and visited by awesome friends, I was scheduled to make a full recovery, and no one’s told me I’ll be dead in three years. I still wish people would look a little harder for motorcycles and bicycles, but all things considered I’m doing pretty well.

The saga continues

Without family in the area I was concerned about the logistics of having surgery, but luckily I have some amazing friends that helped me immensely. My friend Chris from Full Cycle now lives in Vail, wooing restaurant patrons with his extensive knowledge of fine wines as the house sommelier. I asked if he knew of any cheap places to stay or off-season deals and instead he offered his couch or airbed. I was stoked, but when I told the doctor’s assistant I was staying on an airbed she literally laughed at me. Chris then offered his room, which was amazingly gracious.

My friend Tara is one of those people who doesn’t seem to be acquainted with the word “no.” She’s always down to go camping, skiing, clubbing, road tripping – if there’s room in the schedule she’ll probably say yes. If I had known how tight her schedule was, or how much help I was going to need, I probably would have asked at least one other person but as it was she flew back from Arkansas Tuesday afternoon and drove to Vail. She took care of me until Friday night, packed Saturday, and flew to Nicaragua early Sunday morning. I didn’t appreciate how worthless I’d be after the surgery and without her I wouldn’t have been able to get into bed, much less out of it. She kept track of my meds, drove me around, and was helpful in every way imaginable.

By Saturday I was starting to feel a bit down. It’s hard to go from being fairly athletic and independent to not being able to walk, and I was getting frustrated. I went in for my last full day of physical therapy and got a call from my friend Steph. She and her crazy Swedish friend Malin were driving to Aspen and wanted to stop by to say hi. They showed up with brownies and breakfast sandwiches, demanding tours of the hospital, stealing my crutches, and generally causing a ruckus. It was awesome – energy and comic relief is just what I needed and they delivered perfectly.

Towards the end of my second PT session of the day Zac stopped by on his way up to the mountains too. He’s a bit of a celebrity around the clinic after having hip and shoulder surgery within a couple months this winter and referring me, so he said hi to people while I iced my hip. It was so awesome to kick it with friends just when I was starting to feel frustrated and they really brightened my day.

  Taking over Chris' room

I've never paid so much to feel so destroyed

A year and a half ago I was driving home from work when a guy decided to make an illegal left turn in an effort to bypass a red light. Unfortunately a red motorcycle, with myself aboard, was cruising towards him - a fact he didn’t realized until he had completely blocked my lane. I tried to get around but we inevitably collided sending me sliding across the pavement and nearly totaling my bike. I was wearing nearly every piece of protective gear available and managed to escape without many superficial damages, but I could tell something was wrong with my left hip. Several medical professionals and over a year later I finally had an MRI where I was diagnosed with a torn labrum. From what I understand that means the cartilage was ripped off my pelvic bone and all my surrounding muscles were compensating, trying to keep my hip stable in every day activities. There is a lucky part of this story – one of the best surgeons in the world to do this surgery practices in Vail. The hallway walking towards his office is lined with professional sports jerseys, as is nearly every available wall space within his clinic. He’s worked on the likes of Tebow and Kobe, and I was lucky enough to have him cut into me. On Tuesday, April 3 I showed up in Vail at 6:00am to have the first surgery of my life. I was pretty nervous - my blood pressure was about 40mmHg higher than usual – and all the rooms were cold. I’d tell you more about the procedure but once the first wave of anesthesia hit I was out. It was only supposed to be local, I didn’t get a countdown or anything, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room. I was told I had an epidural – the painkiller for women giving birth - and though I tried, the most I could move below my hips was the big toe on my right foot. As the nurses tapered the medication I slowly started to move my right leg, then left foot. It was a few hours before I realized the thing moving up and down under the covers was actually my own leg mobilized by a machine. About an hour after I could feel my leg they had me up on a stationary bike, and when I was done with that I ravenously destroyed a tray full of food. Salmon, soup, salad with bread, 2 cookies, sorbet, a PB&J sandwich, and juice started to satisfy my appetite after fasting for about 18 hours. Surgery was the easy part though. All I had to do was show up and get stuck by a couple needles, and pass out. The road to recovery was just beginning.

I was so cold when I woke up that the nurses buried me in warm towels.

Finally waking up, trying to smile.

Back on the bike, with some help.