7 1/2 days ago I was exploring the back roads of Eastern Wyoming on the just-broken-in '14 ES and decided that I'd kept the motorcycle upright long enough and that plowing through body of a large mama sheep and her baby was something I should try out. It was certainly not my desire to do so, but let's just stipulate up front I killed two innocent sheep, maimed myself in the process, and destroyed the coolest looking motorcycle I've owned to date.
I'm not going to dive deeply into the build-up, but just accept the fact that I had a spectacular get off and very lucky to be able to tell you about it today.
Saturday, 8/8, 07:20 MDT. I'm headed down a paved road near Douglas, WY and going to take a rally picture of a Uranium mine about 20 miles north. After the picture my plan is to head towards Minot, ND and involves what looks to be about 20 miles of gravel road. I found the road to be in good shape, but very remote. Maybe 1 or 2 cars in the past 20 miles and lots of antelope, some cows, and pockets of wooly sheep that would run away as I crested little rises.
Except for this one rise and corner that 2 or 3 of them decided to go left, right, left, and right about 18 times in a fraction of a second as I realized there was no way I was going to miss them. I caught the big one as it was going left and watched and felt my handle bars jerk left as I launched over the handlebars. I'd later tell authorities I was going 30 and *think* I was going about that speed. I wasn't hauling ass down this particular stretch anyway.
What happened next I'm not exactly sure. I may have lost consciousness or just felt loopy as I ragdolled down the road, but I think I was face down when I started to move again. As I did I felt various bones in my chest and back were not in their right places and hurt like hell to move. But I had an impetrative to move. I knew I was hurt badly and had to get myself rescued and I was in totally the wrong place to be. Zero hesitation and although I was woozy I started digesting and prioritizing what I needed to do to make that happen. It was a task list that pretty much simple stuff like this:
Your legs work. You're not paralyzed. Stand up!
Your face feels funny and is dripping, but it's not a biggy. You can see!
Your hand is dripping blood, but working. Use it.
Your ribs and right shoulder are not right. Use your left side.
Stay awake!
Where's my cell phone? It's not on the bike anymore....fumble around...where is it? Can't find it.
Where's my SPOT unit (I didn't remember until later it was attached to my arm).
I find my iPhone 6+ shattered on the ground, but powers up and shows a bar of service through the dirty screen.
Dial 911. It rings, somebody answers, and I tell them, "I've had a bad accident and need help. Can you tell where I am?
She tells me instantly, "Umm. You're on Jenne Trail Road....looks like gravel...you're out in the middle of nowhere. We're sending help."
Everything...is....going...to....be.....OK....now.
Jessica started making things happen and stayed on the phone with me for about an hour before the ambulance got there. I'd later find out that cell phone reception 1/2 mile either side of where I was didn't work. I already knew I was lucky.
Standing there I was fading and hurting badly so dropped to my knees for about 10 minutes and later shifted to sitting on the side of the road. If I'd have laid down I don't I could have gotten back up again.
I gave her my mother's number and rallymaster's number to let know what was happening. And that lady on the other end of the phone line was my lifeline that just made everything going to be OK.
First on scene was a deputy that came up looked me over. He said the ambulance was a couple of minutes behind and I'd be treated very soon. I hung up with the dispatcher and thanked her. My angel 911 dispatcher Jessica......
Ambulance arrives and they take my jacket off to see if I'm bleeding anywhere serious or have internal injuries. Ambulance driver remarks that he owns the same Aerostich jacket and that other than lip, nose, and hand...my gear has done remarkably well. Neck appeared fine, but they said they'd still treat it like I may have had an injury.
He says they're already dispatched a helicopter as it would be an hour of rough road to get me out and they thought I needed quicker trauma service. I think he put an IV in too.
So, like out of a movie I watched a helicopter circle, land, and more people get out.
They put me on a backboard and although it hurt my back it also felt comforting. And four of them proceeded to haul a 280 pound guy 50 yards through the pucker brush to put me in the chopper. Bell 307 it was and as they put my feet in after some hassle things clicked in place, I shortened my legs to not interfere with the pilot and spooled up. That was 9:09 p.m. MDT so I'd been there a little less than 2 hours.
About 20 minutes later we arrived in Caspar, population 60,000, and went through the ER process including x-ray, CT scan, and variety of other things. They diagnosed me with a pneumothorax, 8 broken ribs, clavicle broken in 2 spots, 3 stiches to my hand, 2 or 3 lacerations on my nose and lip, and various scrapes on my knee and hip. I could only breath in 500 ml.
Sunday, August 9.
I was alive, but in bad shape sucking on 5 liters of oxygen, pressing a little blue button for the occasional hit of the most excellent narcotic, Dilaudid, and talking with a parade of caregivers. The surgeon told me that lots was broken, but he didn't think it was bad enough to have surgery for the clavicle and lung was filled enough that a chest tube was probably not needed. That could change though.
My mother flew in the early afternoon and dad that evening. Saints both!
I tried eating a bit, kept drinking, and felt my chest get heavier and heavier.
Monday, August 10.
I think I got up enough to go sit on a commode and pee. Not any pooping.
More lung capacity and they suggest another night and switch from IV drug to oral Oxy and Hydrocodones.
Tuesday, August 11.
They suggest not flying home given the lung, so we decide to rent a cushy SUV and drive the 14 hours back home We leave in the early afternoon. Truth is I think I had it easier than mom and dad. Roll home at 3 or 4 in the morning.
Wednesday, August 12.
I'm able to get out of bed with a lift of my left arm and go to the bathroom.
Thursday, August 13.
Little progress. Everybody and their brother wants to talk to me, text me, or e-mail. I just can't keep up and my iPhone screen is getting depressing. Order replacement through AppleCare.
Friday, August 14.
Big day that I feel substantially better, eat two pieces of bacon, and stay awake for 6 hours. Friends visit and I lament not being able to go to Foo Fighters and Mumford and Sons.
Saturday, August 15
A step backwards in that I feel like crap, bloated like an elephant, and right side seriously hurts deep in my chest. Can't get comfortable, dizzy while standing, short of breath, kinda grumpy, and getting worried. A pretty good bathroom session yields some good farts and a tiny bit of relief on my chest cavity.
Then I'm texting Justin Phillipson about 10 p.m. after using my little suck-in spirometer, have a cough that hurts like hell, and then noticed that things just lightened up. I noticed I could breath normal again! A week later and I felt "almost normal".
Decent nights sleep
Sunday, August 16
Here I am spending an hour typing all this up and know I'm going to be 5-7 more weeks before I'm healed up, but the corner is turned.
Lessons learned so far:
I'm not going to dive deeply into the build-up, but just accept the fact that I had a spectacular get off and very lucky to be able to tell you about it today.
Saturday, 8/8, 07:20 MDT. I'm headed down a paved road near Douglas, WY and going to take a rally picture of a Uranium mine about 20 miles north. After the picture my plan is to head towards Minot, ND and involves what looks to be about 20 miles of gravel road. I found the road to be in good shape, but very remote. Maybe 1 or 2 cars in the past 20 miles and lots of antelope, some cows, and pockets of wooly sheep that would run away as I crested little rises.
Except for this one rise and corner that 2 or 3 of them decided to go left, right, left, and right about 18 times in a fraction of a second as I realized there was no way I was going to miss them. I caught the big one as it was going left and watched and felt my handle bars jerk left as I launched over the handlebars. I'd later tell authorities I was going 30 and *think* I was going about that speed. I wasn't hauling ass down this particular stretch anyway.
What happened next I'm not exactly sure. I may have lost consciousness or just felt loopy as I ragdolled down the road, but I think I was face down when I started to move again. As I did I felt various bones in my chest and back were not in their right places and hurt like hell to move. But I had an impetrative to move. I knew I was hurt badly and had to get myself rescued and I was in totally the wrong place to be. Zero hesitation and although I was woozy I started digesting and prioritizing what I needed to do to make that happen. It was a task list that pretty much simple stuff like this:
Your legs work. You're not paralyzed. Stand up!
Your face feels funny and is dripping, but it's not a biggy. You can see!
Your hand is dripping blood, but working. Use it.
Your ribs and right shoulder are not right. Use your left side.
Stay awake!
Where's my cell phone? It's not on the bike anymore....fumble around...where is it? Can't find it.
Where's my SPOT unit (I didn't remember until later it was attached to my arm).
I find my iPhone 6+ shattered on the ground, but powers up and shows a bar of service through the dirty screen.
Dial 911. It rings, somebody answers, and I tell them, "I've had a bad accident and need help. Can you tell where I am?
She tells me instantly, "Umm. You're on Jenne Trail Road....looks like gravel...you're out in the middle of nowhere. We're sending help."
Everything...is....going...to....be.....OK....now.
Jessica started making things happen and stayed on the phone with me for about an hour before the ambulance got there. I'd later find out that cell phone reception 1/2 mile either side of where I was didn't work. I already knew I was lucky.
Standing there I was fading and hurting badly so dropped to my knees for about 10 minutes and later shifted to sitting on the side of the road. If I'd have laid down I don't I could have gotten back up again.
I gave her my mother's number and rallymaster's number to let know what was happening. And that lady on the other end of the phone line was my lifeline that just made everything going to be OK.
First on scene was a deputy that came up looked me over. He said the ambulance was a couple of minutes behind and I'd be treated very soon. I hung up with the dispatcher and thanked her. My angel 911 dispatcher Jessica......
Ambulance arrives and they take my jacket off to see if I'm bleeding anywhere serious or have internal injuries. Ambulance driver remarks that he owns the same Aerostich jacket and that other than lip, nose, and hand...my gear has done remarkably well. Neck appeared fine, but they said they'd still treat it like I may have had an injury.
He says they're already dispatched a helicopter as it would be an hour of rough road to get me out and they thought I needed quicker trauma service. I think he put an IV in too.
So, like out of a movie I watched a helicopter circle, land, and more people get out.
They put me on a backboard and although it hurt my back it also felt comforting. And four of them proceeded to haul a 280 pound guy 50 yards through the pucker brush to put me in the chopper. Bell 307 it was and as they put my feet in after some hassle things clicked in place, I shortened my legs to not interfere with the pilot and spooled up. That was 9:09 p.m. MDT so I'd been there a little less than 2 hours.
About 20 minutes later we arrived in Caspar, population 60,000, and went through the ER process including x-ray, CT scan, and variety of other things. They diagnosed me with a pneumothorax, 8 broken ribs, clavicle broken in 2 spots, 3 stiches to my hand, 2 or 3 lacerations on my nose and lip, and various scrapes on my knee and hip. I could only breath in 500 ml.
Sunday, August 9.
I was alive, but in bad shape sucking on 5 liters of oxygen, pressing a little blue button for the occasional hit of the most excellent narcotic, Dilaudid, and talking with a parade of caregivers. The surgeon told me that lots was broken, but he didn't think it was bad enough to have surgery for the clavicle and lung was filled enough that a chest tube was probably not needed. That could change though.
My mother flew in the early afternoon and dad that evening. Saints both!
I tried eating a bit, kept drinking, and felt my chest get heavier and heavier.
Monday, August 10.
I think I got up enough to go sit on a commode and pee. Not any pooping.
More lung capacity and they suggest another night and switch from IV drug to oral Oxy and Hydrocodones.
Tuesday, August 11.
They suggest not flying home given the lung, so we decide to rent a cushy SUV and drive the 14 hours back home We leave in the early afternoon. Truth is I think I had it easier than mom and dad. Roll home at 3 or 4 in the morning.
Wednesday, August 12.
I'm able to get out of bed with a lift of my left arm and go to the bathroom.
Thursday, August 13.
Little progress. Everybody and their brother wants to talk to me, text me, or e-mail. I just can't keep up and my iPhone screen is getting depressing. Order replacement through AppleCare.
Friday, August 14.
Big day that I feel substantially better, eat two pieces of bacon, and stay awake for 6 hours. Friends visit and I lament not being able to go to Foo Fighters and Mumford and Sons.
Saturday, August 15
A step backwards in that I feel like crap, bloated like an elephant, and right side seriously hurts deep in my chest. Can't get comfortable, dizzy while standing, short of breath, kinda grumpy, and getting worried. A pretty good bathroom session yields some good farts and a tiny bit of relief on my chest cavity.
Then I'm texting Justin Phillipson about 10 p.m. after using my little suck-in spirometer, have a cough that hurts like hell, and then noticed that things just lightened up. I noticed I could breath normal again! A week later and I felt "almost normal".
Decent nights sleep
Sunday, August 16
Here I am spending an hour typing all this up and know I'm going to be 5-7 more weeks before I'm healed up, but the corner is turned.
Lessons learned so far:
- Sheep and FJRs don't mix.
- Our whole 911 system is something we shouldn't take for granted. It works pretty danged well.
- Moms and Dads are the coolest.
- iPhones are more robust than one thinks
- Pooping normal is not something that ever should be taken for granted
- I'm lucky to be alive
- Work with insurance company on bike. I'm guessing it will be totaled.
- Orthopedist. I have a big ugly swelling protusion near my neck. They may have to operate to make me right, but doing it after I'm stable is probably better.
- Transition to home. When can I drive my GTI and start sleeping in a non-orthopedic tilt bed?
- Back to work. I'm on short-term probably for a week or two.
- Thank Jessica and people in Wyoming
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