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