Thursday, July 12, 2012

The Longest Day

Sunday, July 8, 2012, was for me, the Longest Day EVER. And it probably ranks up there for Charlotte as well who spent the night in my room trying to sleep on a typically uncomfortable hospital room cot. The plan was to get up at 4:30 AM, pack, and head to airport at 5:30 AM for the 8:00 AM flight. Incredibly this was the only nonstop fight to Atlanta for an entire week. A reasonable couple would have packed the night before, but we had to put the Nespresso machine and the milk frother in the suitcase AFTER we had our morning fixes. No way I was going into German bunkers under heavy fire without two double espressos.  Odds were, I was not going to make it, and therefore no reason to die miserable. Also, it was "drinks on room 130" for the night crew in the hospital, who were all ending their shifts close to the time we were departing. The more espressos we dealt out, the more room in the suitcase. Predictably, not having a freaking thing to do all day for the last several days I had developed some pretty impressive skills in dishing out the coffee at high speed.

Early morning arrived and I was wheeled to the front of the hospital as the cab was rolling to a stop. This was first time in my entire life that I had not been outside for this long - from the moment I was admitted to leaving in the taxi totaled five days! The only previous time approaching this level of incarceration was 40 continuous hours, every forth day, back in New York circa 1976-77 as an Internal Medicine intern.

To say I was overwhelmed at leaving the hospital would be an understatement. I could not have been dropped in a more desirable spot on the entire planet. It was just below 60 degrees with the sun beginning to rise. There was a dry, light breeze that pleasurably stroked the bit of normal skin and soothed the still tender road rash, which in the natural light of early morning, I observed to cover much more of my body than I had initially noted. The birds were looking for food, friends, mates or whatever, with a subtle and peaceful concert. I was looking out at this mythical Great Plain extending to the horizon in the direction I was facing. To my left were the Grand Titans, as spectacular as the Dolomite's, with similar naked rock tops, looking as dangerous as they were beautiful. Yeah, they're dangerous alright, as that butterfly like feeling woofed through my belly, reminding me of what I had experienced five days prior and creating a sudden sensation of panic that mixed with the beauty of the sight. To my right were light green and sparsely forested mountains, not as high as the Tetons, but also appeared to jump up from the well demarcated Plain. It was as if some massive giant had come across these strikingly different topos, arranged them in the most attractive way possible while chuckling how unbelievable this was going to appear to his fellow giants.

The sights, however, did not compare with the most impacting sensation which was the smell. Not to bore you with technical Neuro shit that I can go on and on about, but the olfactory cortex is contiguous and lavishly interconnected to the limbic system that controls mood and behavior. You smell, you feel. Relaxed and unprepared for any approaching physical event, the intense pine tree smell almost knocked me out of the flimsy wheel chair. The sights, the sounds, the sensations and the smell that I simultaneously inhaled, after almost six days of sensory deprivation, unless you count pain, was the most surprising positive jolt of  post pubescent pleasure I had yet encountered.

I sat in the front seat for the 25 minute drive to the airport. I twisted my head to see all I could of this foreign terrain like a dog on his first car ride. My jaw dropped and I was likely panting; I don't think I barked but probably would have had I seen any wildlife. The Plain hosts 20,000 elk, in addition to bear, moose, deer, mountain lions, wolves, foxes and porcupines. It is the Serengeti of North America.

Upon arriving at the airport there wasn't as much difficulty getting out of the car as we anticipated and we were provided a wheel chair and ample assistance. We did not find a News Stand which struck us odd -  was this place post modern where everyone reads online or perhaps pre universal literacy. The next problem seemed to answer the question as there was no ramp to our awaiting Boeing 757. The last time I recall seeing this in the USA was when the Beatles arrived at Idlewild in 1964.  With multiple screws holding my bones in place I could manage one or two steps, but no way two flights of stairs. Even more troubling, no one with any decision making authority knew what do. Remembering we were in the land of Evil Knievel, I feared someone might suggest a catapult, which I would have liked seen deployed, perhaps, but on someone else.  Finally two guys who did not look quite up for the task were commanded to carry me up the stairs. It was a tense and rocky ride with the thought of being dropped and reliving my recent log roll, present on every step.

I was in first class (one way Frequent Flyer purchase), bulkhead seat. Charlotte was not able to be upgraded. The seat was very comfortable considering I was still sitting on my broken and pinned sacrum. We then stalled on the tarmac for two hours with a mechanical problem and the temperature was rising. I had to draw on Tennessee Williams and my male Blanch Dubois routine, faking a near fainting episode. I was thus a hero to my fellow first class passengers as this forced the airline to bring in some auxiliary power and more AC. When I told them how I always depended on the kindness of strangers, the staff wrinkled their foreheads in a way that revealed their true suspicions; this was not the first time they had seen this routine.

I understand there was a real threat of mutiny in steerage but I did not see anyone thrown off the plane onto the runway - at least not on my side. Charlotte came up regularly to check on me and hustle some free benefits. I donated two bags of chips to settle the huddled masses in her area as I feared an all out riot would have potentially added more sitting time. Recalling the Newstand situation, I was concerned no one would be calmly passing the time reading.

Any hope of making the whole flight without peeing was up in smoke. I had to conquer the bathroom. Toilet humor is sophomoric but I could fill a book with "funny things that happened to me in the john," and I have multiple ideas for short films at the Sundance Film Festival based on these experiences. For the sake of this blog's high standards I'll just say that the numero uno (#1) experience has always been a challenge for me on an airplane, and the idea of standing on one leg with a walker in the small moving bathroom seemed insurmountable. The nice Parisian flight attendant helped me to the bathroom and when we had difficulty closing the door because of the walker, my swollen ass, or both, she pulled a curtain and all went well. I think she sneaked a peak but that was OK with me.

The three hour flight was smooth and the seat was the best seat for my type of injury. I had little pain and was actually able to sleep. I was the last to get off the plane and I was taken to baggage claim in an airline wheelchair. Charlotte was tipping everyone big from my wallet and we had a small entourage by the time we picked up the suitcases. My trip to the ATM and the accounting while sprawled out on the highway were not in vain. Like clockwork, Jim picked us up at baggage claim in Charlotte's station wagon.

We then undertook what I initially thought would be a clear, fast, midday Sunday ride 70 miles south. Unfortunately a massive accident with two helicopters, five fire trucks and more ambulances brought us to a stop. My patience was thinning, my butt was hurting and my left leg was growing by the minute.

Eventually we made it home and I began the short walk to the front door. This time it took a bit longer and I did so, staring straight ahead, ignoring my 30+ years of hard-scape and landscaping efforts. Under normal circumstances this walk makes me happy every time I come home from work. But now the heart was no longer receptive to any comfort. I would try to lift my spirits this way on another day. Limping, tired, hurting and now somewhat panicked, I immediately called Chuck and John to survey the newest case of elephantitis in Middle Georgia. My swollen leg, groin to toes, was a potential serious problem. Either the swelling inside the pelvis from the fractures had blocked the lymphatic drainage (benign), or it had caused a blood clot in the deep veins. The latter, deep vein thrombophebitis, is inherently unstable. The clot can break off, travel to the lungs and cut you down like those Germans did on the real Longest Day.


I did eat two tomatoes sandwiches. My tomatoes, (the best) picked ripe and arranged on Italian County Bread from the Buckhead Bread Co, Hellman's mayo, salt and pepper. The best meal on six continents. If I was going to die, at least I would have this taste in me for eternity. Back in the car, it was off to the ER where I would likely need a series of tests to investigate the vein problem. Chuck and I, with our Southern approach are not that great about getting anything done in a hurry. John, on the other hand, spent a critical amount of his development in New York City and took over the choreography. Everything went fast: check in, wallet biopsis, vital signs, clearing out a room, finding a real doc, physical exam, IV, blood work, bring in an ultrasound tech, the actual ultrasound, bring in radiologist (friend), CAT tech, CAT test with dye, once labs back and OK, CAT read, back to ER and dismissed home with no clot--whew!  It was like a Daytona 500 pit-crew.

Up at 4:30 AM, three wheelchairs, two cars, one airplane, three stretchers, 3,000 miles, two amazing tomato sandwiches, and in bed by 11:00 PM. For me, The Longest Day .

3 comments:

  1. Hi Tom,
    So glad to hear you and Charlotte made it home to GA safely and in one piece. Joni and I've thought about you a lot since your accident -- we'll give you a call soon to see how you're doing.
    Also, your description of the sights, sounds and smells of the western mountains is right on and reminds me how lucky I am to live out here.
    Cheers, Roof

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  2. Glad you're home safe and in one piece and can laugh about it! :-)

    Only one small point of contention: I'm going to have to send Rachel to smack you up the side of the head for not following the med school 101 guidelines regarding surgery and risk of emboli from travel too soon after! We're going to have to find something to do with that big brain of ours while your body recovers, least you forget the fundamentals. ;-)

    I'm glad you're okay. Give Charlotte a big hug from the Blazejacks. *hugs*

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  3. Mimi and I have been thinking about you and hoping you made it home safely. Glad to know you did in spite of the many hurdles placed in your path, and that you were able to start the day with good espresso and end it with delicious tomatoes. We have been riding our asses off and miss your good company every day. We had a hell ride into Casper with head winds for 90 of the 120 miles and about 90 degree heat. A rest day was never so welcome. Leaving there and heading to the black hills was great and we have had many long days in South Dakota, which if you didn't already know it goes on FOREVER!
    Keep healing well Tom and enjoy those tomatoes! Be nice to Charlotte too because you really need her! Love from the "antiques" Thanks for the great blog posts and keeping us still laughing.

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