12-3-07: From one second to the next...

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Technology enables us to determine, monitor and maintain our bodies with a variety of exercise machines and devices in order to stay fit and vital. Technology also allows us to see the framework on the inside that keeps us upright... or the damage if there is sufficient force from the outside.

I've been getting regular x-rays so that my doctors and therapists can evaluate and gauge the pace of my rehabilitation. But I have recently gone back in time, September 25, 2007, to see x-rays of myself shortly after arriving in the emergency room. The force I experienced from the outside, at the intersection of 13th, M and Needham Ave., was more than enough to compromise my own inner framework. Seeing these initial x-rays brought me back to a time I hardly remember. Nevertheless, they have caused me to pause and contemplate my life the seconds before and after this life-changing event.

Take my legs. One second I'm pedaling my bicycle on a street I've traveled without incident for over 20 years. The next second I'm not, and don't know when, if ever, I'll ride again. The x-rays show breaks and compound fractures to the tibia and fibula of my left leg to support such thoughts. My right leg sustained only cracks and dents... as of this writing it's healed and ready to go. But it takes two to get around, both near and far. After a time, I'll have two again to indeed go, but it's the interim which can be difficult to contend with, knowing what I could do before.

Take my right arm. Range of motion in my shoulder will be limited until surgery can clean up and repair the rotator cuff and the ball joint on top of my humerus. Can't do the surgery until I can hobble around on my left leg (late Jan/early Feb '08). In the meantime, I can't reach over my head and grab my left ear. And though it's painful, I must try anyway... doctor's orders. My right wrist no longer bears the weighty cast I wore for five weeks or the splint strap for another two. Although it has healed, the stiffness and soreness still make it difficult to grab, manipulate, squeeze or make a fist. Again, I'm told I must try anyway.

Then there's my neck. It was broken, but I am fortunate that I am not paralyzed or dead... and probably would be if I had not been wearing a helmet. In a year's time, I will have four fused vertebrae that are now being held together with a plate and some screws. Anybody reading this might assume that I am now wearing a rigid collar around my neck, or have a thick halo secured to the top of my head with long, burrowing screws. I have neither. Because of some brilliant surgery, I came off of the table with close to the full range of motion turning my neck I had in the previous second... and I thank you for that, Dr. R. It was like I just snapped my fingers and it all got better. Wouldn't it have been nice if...

I know it's not about what I can't do, but what I can. Sometimes, though, I sit and think, "If I could go back in time... just one second..." But, alas, such technology has not been invented yet, so I must simply remember (or not) the past, embrace the present, and hope for the future...

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Note: At times it was difficult for me to think about and then to write this entry. Though my memory of the event is minimal, it has made me somewhat melancholy... and my psychological rehabilitation right now is as important as my physical. There is so much more to be written... so many more stories I've heard and so many more to be told. Is it up to me to relate those stories? I don't know, but thank you for indulging me... and thank you to those who were quick to get me repaired.