Overdue thanks

I don't know his name.
There's a bike in the distance there,
and some of our equipment strewn out along the road.
(Eaton County photos here and below,)

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Association, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE

What I'm grateful for this Thanksgiving is this man and his many first-responding colleagues who took care of Mark and me in the immediate aftermath of our August 22 crash in Michigan. As the picture below shows, I was in no shape to help myself. They responded within minutes, in many vehicles, and seemed to have dropped everything to come out and get us. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I have spent a lot of time in my life crabbing about the excesses of cops, but this right here is the flip side, the good work that doesn't get a lot of press and is under-appreciated.

Eaton County, which has a law enforcement office that keeps track, sent us a huge, highly detailed accident report, with dozens of photos, witness statements, voice interaction between officers, status updates and a statement from the driver of the car that hit us.

I feel bad for the girl. She's just 18, and I'm guessing she struggles with the basics that I take for granted.

*

This is me:

Zonked. I have no memory of this.

And here's the car that hit us, and the (significant) damage we did:

So, to all you bikers out there, count your blessings, and ride carefully!!

*

Update on Mark: A week ago he said he was in PT three or four times a week, putting more weight on his leg, and using just one crutch indoors on level surfaces. He was about to graduate to a cane. He has some nerve damage that has impacted his foot action, which may or may not improve. If it doesn't, he said he may need more surgery and/or a brace.

He was hit first, and much harder than myself.

Life is a wall

  

Mike, Jon, Chris

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Association, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE

Saturday was a full and multifarious day that began with a reunion of three of us who started the long bike ride together way back in May. Chris and I met up with Mike Lynam for lunch and found that everybody still liked everybody else. Mike's a doctor and he was able to consult with Chris on the topic of statins, and I looked for opportunities for humor. A fine meal.

Then later was the event I came for -- the MDA Wall Crush. We had about 50 climbers of all kinds, and we raised  $5000 for MDA, thanks largely to the efforts of Kristi Sogn and the generosity of Cirque Climbing.

Climbing is a whole subculture that I never knew existed. It draws fitness buffs and a lot of people who climb outdoors looking for a way to stay in shape when the season ends. Like, say, running, or swimming, how good you are is less important than that you do it. We had kids, lean tattooed women, craggy well-built men, little girls, high school teams and a tennis pro from Belgium.

Everybody climbed, climbed and climbed. Some would reach the top, come back down down and start right back up again. This was a competition, and points were accumulated by the marked difficulty of the route. Some chose to do easier routes many times -- say, 50 points or less (as little as 10) -- and others went after higher-point routes -- as much as 500, for example -- that were much more challenging.

Routes constituted of a series of "holds" of a specific color -- so that if you're doing red, you can't use a black or yellow hold, which are parts of different routes. And safety was built in to every route. No one went up without a rope that would stop a fall (though pulling on them to ascend is a rule violation). In most cases the rope was a "top rope" hung from a bracket at the top of the climb and affixed to the climber's belt, with the slack taken up by a belayer on the ground.  

Working at a more difficult, higher-point route, the climber would go up with the rope not fixed at the top, but just tied to his or her belt. As the climber ascends, he or she would put rope manually through a series of clips hanging at intervals, so that a fall would be arrested by the belayer when the climber fell to the most recent clip attached -- maybe as much as five feet? Seven feet? Something like that. Using the clips, which requires extra time, more closely approximates outdoor climbing conditions, climbers said. This kind of climbing, if what I've said makes any sense, is called "lead climbing."

I watched two little girls -- maybe 10? -- run from route to route, climbing every one. They raced reach other and squabbled over who won. They were completely absorbed, growing stronger with every climb. It was like a playground to them -- a joy to see.

Satchel Sogn, Kristi's son, won the fastest-climber title, going up the assigned route -- practically running up it -- in just 8.8 seconds. And his team won the team title.

Here are some views:

Pre-teens on the way up.

Satchel (foreground) on belay

Coming back down

A 150-point route (all the way up on red holds)

A crowded wall

Belayers at work

A chiropractor offered adjustments

Satchel (second from left) and his winning team, La Monkeys.

Mike's fancy meal at lunch.

Climber food at the gym. 

Climber Chris

Climber Molly

All done!

In Olympia

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Association, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE

Later today we'll have a fundraising wall climb event at Cirque Climbing gym out here in suburban Olympia, Washington. I came Thursday and was at the gym for parts of the last two days, mostly watching other people work -- though I did stuff 60 T-shirts into  brown paper bags!

Kristi's artistic and organizational skills have driven this. She's collected donations from area businesses for great prizes -- dozens of them -- including sponsorships for different climbs. Wine tasting, theater tickets, bicycle services, and more are among the prizes. Then we have a "goodie bag" for everybody, including T-shirts. Thirty-two people had registered by yesterday, and we think that 50 will attend, which would be great number for the gym. Cirque is donating the $40 per person entrance fee to the MDA, and I think about $2000 has been raised so far. This money will be added to my donate page when all is said and done. It'll put me over $15,000!

Meanwhile I've been hanging out at my cousin Molly's house while she tries to write a sermon for Sunday. We walked the dogs -- Suzi and Ben -- and went out to my uncle Mark's house, on the water, to drop off a car. Alas, Mark, the happy-go-lucky geriatric, is in Palm Springs.

Here's a few pix:

T-shirt bags

Jasper, Chris's son, and Dexter, Molly's son. Jasper's World War II outfit was for a Veteran's Day event at school.
They're both swimmers. And of course Chris had to photobomb this. 

T-shirt logo. Note the bike!

Like I said, you won't see me doing this, even at low altitude.

Mark's house

Approach to Mark's house

Heron on the dock!

Molly with Suzi (left) and Benny

Another new wrinkle

At Cirque Climbing, Lacey, Washington
(Kristi's art!)

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Association, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE

Strange how one thing leads to another. I'm going out to my cousins' house in Olympia, Washington, to attend a new fundraiser for MDA. It's driving them up the walls! You won't see me doing this, but I'll be there sending out my MDA vibes.

This is the brainchild of Kristi and Chris -- my social media support group during the Coast to Coast ride. (Sigh, my ride -- too bad it ended the way it did, short one coast.) I have, I confess, slowly and quietly upped the ante by raising my goal, which now stands at $15,000, and I'm a little short. Maybe this will close the gap.

Hope this finds everybody well.  Sorry I've been out of touch. It seemed like all I had to say there for a while was, yeah, I'm still eating.

Here's a couple more pix:

Big fat Jon

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Association, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE

Potatoes, bananas, peanut butter, oatmeal, protein shakes. The doctor said, "Don't waste your time on light meals," and I haven't, and I've gained 10 pounds. That's about a pound every third day -- a lot of eating. I think 10 more pounds will do it, and I hope I can stop. It's become kind of a compulsion. I have to turn some of that into muscle or I'll get a basketball stomach.

I'm still working through insurance forms, adding up my losses, trying to do it like a job. I don't want to ruin anybody, but I do want a new bike -- and that'll be north of $1,000. It may sound like a lot to you car-drivers out there, but that's pretty cheap in a sector where the sky's the limit.

The bike your parents buy you as a kid is utilitarian, and something like a necessity -- to get you to school or around the neighborhood. (Unless, maybe, the new bike is the cellphone.) For many of us, the bike you might buy yourself as an adult is strictly optional, and could smack of leisure and entitlement. You have the time for this, you have the money for this.

But I still want a bike. It's cheaper -- and better for you -- than the gleaming Harley and leather outfit a banker or an attorney might buy himself -- an even more potent symbol of leisure and entitlement.

Here's my bike at present:

Ouch.

Short and sweet

Tulips in Holland (Michigan!)

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Association, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE


I said a while ago I'd post a link to my item on the MDA blog. You can find that here:
"Strongly" blog post.

The day after MDA posted this, Mark and I were hit by the car.

Mark is finally home now, after a month in hospitals.

Collateral

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Associatiion, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE

This is a picture of Ms. V. after participating in our first-ever Mud Ritual, in which we fling mud at one another to exorcise our frustrations. It is harmless to humans, though makes a mess of the walls and floor.

No, seriously. In the period after I nearly killed myself, I was trying to find things I had lost in the bike crash. No easy matter when your mind may not be quite right. The most important missing thing was my wallet. It must have popped out of my handlebar bag when everything went topsy-turvy.

I had, with remarkable foresight, put a "Tile" tracker in the wallet, and it did show on my cell phone that the wallet was at or near the site of the crash. So I sent Ezra to look for it, but he couldn't find it. Then Ezra and Ms. V. went back to try again. They went at it with gusto, slashing into the thicket, using rakes and a picker, and of course tearing through the undergrowth with their gloved hands.

Bad idea. They never did find the wallet, but they brought back with them raging cases of poison oak.  Thus do caregivers become the cared-for. Ezra brought his case of poison oak under control by discipline and force of will. Julie went to urgent care a couple times, and finally made two visits to the doctor to bring it to heel. I, in my shuffling, not-quite-sick, not-quite-well state, made a few pathetic suggestions.

*

I have made a couple visits to doctors, and have a whole raft of appointments set up for the coming weeks. I wish I was getting paid to attend. We actually have a lawyer friend helping us with our paperwork.

My buddy Mark has made remarkable progress and may be going home as early as next Wednesday.

There's nothing better than home.

With grandson Jacob.

The official story

Yankee Springs Recreation Area
(Mark photo)

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Associatiion, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE

This is an inadequate thanks to all those out there who have written in support of Mark and me after our bike accident of August 22. It was especially heart-warming to hear from those who have been watching quietly, unknown, from the shadows all this time, especially former co-workers.

Because everything came out in dribs and drabs, and not at all from me or Mark, I wanted to put together a straightforward account of what happened, not least because I myself have peddled some fuzzy dates.

I had biked home to Milwaukee after the first part of my long ride, took a little family side-trip up north, then rode the Lake Express ferry from Milwaukee to Muskegon early on Monday, August 19. Mark met me at the landing, and we rode south that day, about 43 miles on mostly suburban trails, to Mark’s daughter’s house in Holland.  

We had a nice visit there, met the baby, Jacob, and the dogs, Molly and Flinn, and slept in the house, always a bonus. 

On Tuesday, August 20, we rode about 46 miles east to Yankee Springs Recreation area, a beautiful park. I had had a flat earlier in the day, and we put aside our ambitions for more miles and settled in, squeezed into my tiny little tent and got rained on.

Wednesday, August 21. Another flat, outside a McDonald’s in Hastings. I thought that there may be something wrong with the rim, or with how I had put the tire on the day before, so we walked about a mile to the best Ace Hardware store in the world, about as big as a Target, with a dedicated bike shop right in the middle. We helped the mechanic, Jerry, hoist the whole bike, bags and all, onto a stand, and in just a couple minutes he pulled out the tube and found it to be twisted and pinched on either side of the valve – my lovely work – and he fixed us up for simply the cost of a new tube – about $7. Mark and I had watched this guy at work and I said, “No labor?” He said, “Naw, it’s been fun talking with ya.”  

I was relieved that the problem wasn’t some issue with the rim, as I had pictured puncturing tube after tube after tube. 

Roadside attraction
(Mark photo)

So we rode on to Charlotte – that’s char-LOTTE, and don’t get it wrong -- and checked into America’s Best Value Inn, truly, about 42 miles on the day. 

We had a 1 p.m. appointment the next day, Thursday, August 22, to meet a TV news photographer outside of the little town of Rives Junction. The interview was to be at the farm owned by Mark’s wife, Jane’s, parents, about 30 miles for us. We were going to show off our day-glo shirts and ride a little bit and talk about muscular dystrophy.

So we set out. It was a flat, straight, two-lane highway, with a very narrow shoulder, if any. But we had a tailwind and the going was easy. Mark, behind me, kept close. We went about 8 miles, and then the world ended. 

I have no memory of the next minutes. It might have been 5, 10, 20 minutes? Nothing until I am lifted into an ambulance. Then nothing again until we arrive at Sparrow Hospital in Lansing. I remember being shocked to learn that I was in Lansing, the wrong direction for us, and seemingly far away. Mark, arriving in a separate ambulance, was brought into a room close to the entry, and my room was farther down the hall. 

Mark had broken his left leg in several places. He had surgery to relieve the swelling and after a few days transferred to the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, closer to his home. He had at least two more operations in Ann Arbor, and is still on the mend. 

I spent 13 days in the Lansing hospital, moving room to room as I seemed to improve and get worse. Julie, Ezra and Lydie stayed pretty much the whole time, with Ahna coming a little later, and other relatives coming and going. My injuries were a broken rib, a sliced kidney, a broken C4 vetebra, a cracked sacrum (tailbone), and a massive black bruise on my left hip. 

As the days passed, Dr. Mosher first removed the collar I had been wearing, so I could breathe better, then determined that surgery was not the answer for my injuries – that the breaks and cracks would knit together just as well by themselves. I hope that stands here in Milwaukee -- I can only view surgery as a setback. 

While I was at Sparrow, they of course discovered other anomalies about my health, chiefly my swallowing function, which is troubled by muscular dystrophy. Food matter and saliva build up in my windpipe, unless I’m very careful, so the whole time I was there I used, or was subjected to, a suction tube, to clear it out.

I wasn’t able to eat at Sparrow for a few days, and then only through a tube through my nose. But really, I wasn’t all that hungry. When I finally got home, I had lost 31 pounds from my pre-ride weight, some of it of course from riding, some of it from lack of eating at Sparrow.

My right lung also was clouded for a few days, not getting enough oxygen, which I worked on with small, hand-held resistance breathers.     

Keeping watch

At Sparrow, Julie launched a persuasive campaign to take me back to Milwaukee by car with the understanding that we would set up follow-up care there. (There were no rehab vacancies at the time.) Dr. Mosher agreed. So we finally came home Tuesday, September 3, “Thelma and Louise style,” as Julie says.

Meanwhile I’m up and walking, doing a little paperwork at my desk, and crawling back to bed when another wave of fatigue washes over me. 

Did its job

Mark after recent surgery

Goodbye to the hospital

Left side. Yeah, it hurts. 

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Associatiion, click here: JON'S MDA DRIVE

This ugly bruise on my left hip has faded a little bit since this picture was taken, but it still tells pretty well how far I must have slid. You can almost see the texture of the road. It makes me angry at the young woman driver who "didn't see them." The idiot. Painkillers have made this survivable for a few hours at a time. My biking friend Mark hasn't been as lucky. His scheduled date for the second surgery on his leg was pushed back again yesterday for at a least the second time, leaving him another day with pins holding his leg together, making it impossible to change to change position. I can't imagine.

Me and my little entourage have arrived at home finally from Sparrow Medical Center, in East Lansing. The nurses there work 12 hours three days a week. I have come to appreciate how hard they work inspite of the of the gestapo-like rules -- "more pee or it's a catheter for you?" --  that may be part of the patient experience anywhere.

Out for a bit of air.

Nurse Beth, whose slow-motion slides helped me sort out problems with my swallowing motion. 

Mark with his grandson Jacob.

Broken bikes, broken bones

All in a days work

More  of the same.

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Association, click here:  JON'S MDA DRIVE

If anybody found a lost brown wallet on island Highway  in Eaton Rapids, let me know.

I'm still at the Sparrow Medical Center in East Lansing, my eighth day. It has been a windmill-of-your-mind experience where, after the first days of treating the obvious physical injuries they discovered problems in the way I breath, think and function. I have to be kind, but it is not my strong suit. 

Mark and I in intensive care.

Mark left Monday for the University Michigan Medical Center and I thought we might leave for Milwawukee to day, but maybe not.

Thanks for all the words of encouragement!

Between this and that

The Bel-Air Motel in Land 0' Lakes, Wisconsin.
The price was right -- deer head no extra charge!

To contribute to the Muscular Dystrophy Association, click here:  JON'S MDA DRIVE


I am champing at the bit. Wanna get rolling on Part 2. We spent a few days at the Vosper island homestead -- a great thing and we are grateful -- and now will be here in Land O' Lakes till this afternoon when uncle's 100th birthday party will be held. I think there will be cake.

I spent a couple days communicating with MDA, who wanted photos of my trip and a little essay for their blog about my descent into MD territory. When these things are posted on their blog, I will divulge a link here. 

I really think I'm getting worse -- my throat is touchy, my hands feeble, my walking crazy.  The normal fluid movement of everyday life -- standing, sitting, crossing a room, buttering toast -- seems like gracious ballet from where I sit, and sit, and sit. I'm thinner and weigh less than I have since college, but when the ride is over I can see myself continuing to eat at my current rabid pace without burning any calories and becoming a round inert ball of suet. 

I hope this is just a passing mood. 

I'll feel better on a bike. 

Here's a little pictorial summary of recent things:

Me, Ms.V., Mimi, Jimmy

The Big Mac

The channel

Leaving town

Jimmy's cocktails