A SIlent Thunderclap Invaded Me

A silent thunderclap invaded me with the power of a thousand suns. A dull bending of sheet metal followed, and my world upended. Was I hit; did I hit something? Immediately, I was on the ground, resting on knees and elbows, unable to move my forearms, hands and fingers. My legs and toes responded, though, and I could see a tooth through dripping blood on the pavement just below me. My mind was racing, stammering to survive. Shunting aside thoughts of how I might get up and continue cycling, training for the Ironman, my mother’s iron will to live overtook my father’s drive to athletic excellence, and I realized I was in grave peril.

Cursing, unable (unwilling?) to move out of elbows and knees position, I was draining blood out of my mouth. People surrounded me, babbling to help. I was worried they might help too well, and jeopardize my life. I decided I was not going to give up and die, not here, not now, not this way.

But I was in danger from my saviors. They would try to get me on my back, stabilize my neck, and transport me to a hospital. I had to let them know the biggest risk.

I summoned all the energy I had left, and repeated everything I said twice:

“Listen to me; listen to me. I’m a doctor, I’m a doctor. Drowning; blood in mouth. Drowning; blood in mouth. Keep hips up, head down; hips up, head down!!!”

Then memory goes to black..

I resurfaced in a hospital room 24 hours later, surrounded by doctors, nurses and family. I inwardly moaned, and thought, “Well, I guess I really did something to myself.” It was so hard to come to terms with the immense shock I went through.

I had been riding along at the peak of fitness, probably the pinnacle of my athletic development at age 61. In three weeks, I would race on the Big Island of Hawaii at the Ironman World Championship, for the third time. My whole life had been revolving towards the start line there on October 9^th, at 7 AM. But at 9:47 AM, Sept 18^th, I literally drove my training plan into a brick wall, hitting the back end of a pickup up track parked on an otherwise deserted road back in the restricted firing range area of Fort Lewis. I never saw it, and rammed my lower jaw into the tail gate.

The damage to me: broken/sprained neck (cracked spinous processes and stretched ligaments at levels C 4,5, 6). Swelling to the spinal cord at that level, affecting both motor and sensory function of my forearms, hands and fingers. Shredded lower lip, splayed open along its entire length extending into my right cheek. Damage to the mandible and loss of 8 lower front teeth (2 molars left on each side). Ripped and swollen tissues inside my neck – the pharynx, larynx, and surrounding tissues were all affected. Minor broken bone in left wrist. Loss of about 30% of my blood from the lip laceration.

It took me several days and many visits with the doctors to understand this panoply of injuries, and the implications for recovery.

The “good” news, of course, is that nothing about my legs, hips, chest, upper arms, head, or internal organs was damaged. My superbly trained heart, liver, kidneys, gut, and other parts were all intact and running smoothly. My over active brain was not rattled or affected in any way.  I was not paralyzed. I had a lot going for me, both internally, and in the world outside. My family stayed by my side for days, and reached out to friends, neighbors and unseen acquaintances, and I heard from 100s of people world-wide, who gave freely of their love and prayers. With all that power, I dared not give up; I resolved to move forward, as far as I could go.