sandpoint4

The Crash
On Sunday I headed onto the mountain to warm up for Short Track. It was as beautiful day.I intending to be back in time for Colt's event.

I followed the Cross Country course up the mountain, then left the course to explore some fire roads that took me to the back side of the mountain. I made a U-Turn at the other side and started heading back. I hit the first set of switchbacks.......which I had not cleaned the first couple times I rode them.....but having successfully ridden them during the XC I was hopeful. I took it slowly and was gleeful when I got to the bottom.

I sat up as the ground leveled out a bit and suddenly my front tire hit some sort of ditch or water bar. My speed was probably not more than 20 mph at the time. I went over the handlebars, and as I was accustomed, tried to land on my feet. One problem though.....my left foot seemed to still be attached to the pedal. My foot hit the ground at a bad angle and I heard by leg snap....

As I was stretched out in the back seat, Althea made the drive back to Spokane.

What the heck do you do with this breathing machine?

It wasn't one clean snap but a series of alarming crunches. I hit the ground and my first instinct was to get up. I did so but collapsed right away. I could see that my leg was broken and was swelling rapidly. All I could think of was this would be fatal if I were a deer or mountain goat.....go figure. I doubted if I would be found anytime soon since I was at 6500 ft. I tried again to stand and move forward using my bike as a crutch. Again I failed immediately. At this point I knew I was in deep shit. Since we were preparing for racing I did not have my cell phone. I did have my Road I.D. and was carrying my trusty bandana.

I tried calling for help but there was no answer. Miraculously, within a few minutes a heard a motorcycle. I felt like someone stranded on an island waving at any plane that flies overhead. The motorcycle came into view and stopped when he saw me lying on the trail. He explained that he could not stay with me since he was the "Lead Moto" for the Marathon Race!

My "Driver" had never driven an ambulance before!

Fortunately the guy had a walkie talkie and called for a rescue team. He told me that Ryder Hesjedal was not far behind him, leading the marathon. Moments later, Ryder came through not saying a word. The lead moto stayed with me until a rescue crew was within earshot. They had come on an ATV on a trail above me. They did all their vital signs ( I was glad I still had some) and assembled a stretcher. Two other paramedics were hiking up the trail from below.....this made four in all. They had a conference about what was the best way to get me out. It was far shorter to go back up the switchbacks, but would be easier going downhill where only a couple switchbacks had to be negotiated. They opted for going downhill and explained it was about a half mile to the ATV.

As they were strapping me into the stretcher a couple other racers came by. I remember one giving me enncouragement. The other stoppped and asked for a drink of water. I gave him my half empty water bottle and he drained it! Big mistake. The rescuers did not have water with them and this would be a two hour rescue. The paramedics would need the water more than me!

At this point there were three men and one woman. They were heros already in my book but little did I know how much they would suffer. My guess is they did not actually train much for this and were exhausted quickly.

Their first attempt got us about 50 feet before they had to rest. The woman was having trouble with her corner so I loaned her my riding gloves. Successive caries got shorter and 30 feet became the average. There were many times when they almost dropped me as the trail was not wide enough for both hikers and the litter. Every time a racer came by they had to yell to the rider so they would get off their bikes. Most did so without a word and ran by.. But, a couple badmouthed us saying stuff like "don't you know you are on the race course?" Duh.....

The rescuers had called for more help but there seemed to be some confusion as to which trail we were on. As we approached the fire road, there was a steep section of trail that looked impossible.

Desperation seeped into the voices of the rescuers They knew they could not do this alone. It was at that point they started to ask, beg really, that racers get off their bikes and help. (It should be noted that all these guys were pros out of contention). To my utter shock they all refused. Finally, a couple more rescuers showed up and we made it down the last descent. Boy, was that nerveracking.

The ATV ride was rough.. They had tied the litter to the top. Despite the fact that the driver took great care, the bumps were enormous and painful. The kept offering to shoot me up with morphine but I was having none of that. It seems like the ATV ride took about 30 minutes so a full two hours had passed since I crashed.

I was concerned for my bike and fortunately they strapped it onto the back of the other ATV. They had called ahead and paged Colt on the Ski Area PA system. I had also borrowed a cell phone and called Althea, telling her to make some flight arrangements.

When we arrived at the base lodge, Colt and an Amublance was waiting. The rescue crew posed with me for a photo before they loaded me into the Ambulance. It was then that I realized the ambulance driver looked to be 18 years old and admitted to never having driven it before. This might not normally be a problem but we had to descend a twisty 9-mile road, dropping thousands of feet of elevation. Yikes. When it was over someone should have given the girl a medal....she really did a great job.

Despite Sandpoint being a very small town of 7000 people they have three orthopedic surgeons due to the ski area and vacation business. It was at Bonner General Hospital that I was cut a huge break. In walks Dr. Doug Cipriano. He showed me my x-rays I saw my Tibia in like ten pieces. My fibula was also involved. He spent a lot of time explaining the options to me, including the risk/benefits of being transferred to a larger hospital. Something about his guy inspired confidence. I think it was his frankness. He told me that my break was uncommon....that perhaps he operated on this type of injury twice a year. A metal plate would have to be placed in my leg with quite a few long screws holding it all together.

He felt he could do the surgery and that there would be little or no benefit to transferring to Spokane. I told him I needed to think about what to do.

A little side note here......much of my family comes from the small town of Penn Yan, N.Y. in the Finger Lakes. My whole adult life in Boston I have seen many examples where relatives of mine had received less than optimal health care at this hospital. One of my uncles had even died during knee surgery! I could never understand why they did not drive an hour to better hospitals.....even for stuff like brain surgery. So.....I had a predisposition against Bonner Hospital.

I decided to call the smartest guy I know, Dr. Nalt Ferraro. He suggested that I have the surgery done in Sandpoint. Apparently Dr. Cipriano had trained extensively in Salt Lake City where he was Chief Orthopedic Resident. When his dad retired, he suggested that Doug come home to Sandpoint and take over his practice. Obviously Sandpoint was the big winner in this deal.

To make a long story shorter, we went ahead with the 3.5 hour surgery the next day immediately after Althea arrived in Sandpoint. Dr. Cipriano felt that everything had gone as well as could be expected, but that it would take a year to get back to 100%. I must admit I did not believe him and thought to myself that I could do it in six months. Little did I know how hard it would be or some of the complications I would face.

I can't say enough about the treatment I got at Bonner General Hospital. The nursing staff, radiology technicians, and Physical Therapists were unbelievably helpful. When I couldn't sleep in the middle of the night they would stay and chat with me. They would find me real coffee, and even made ground transportation arrangements for Althea. The thing I appreciated the most was how cheerful and caring they were.

Before leaving the hotel, Dr. Cipriano sent his surgical nurse, Jackie, to our motel to change my dressings. There is no way we could have done this without going back to the hospital. We truly appreciated the fact that this would never have happened in Boston.

Many people encouraged me along the way to recovery. Mary McConnelou?g wrote to me "walking is over-rated as long as there are bike trails to ride". My sentiments exactly. Finally, I would be nowhere without Ann-Marie, my Physical Therapist at Mass General. She pushed me and put up with my impatience. She is a healer and a saint.

We head back to Sandpoint in a little over a month. It should be quite a trip!

When the folks at La Quinta learned of my predicament, they gave us an extra room at no charge! They were great.

Althea packed hurridly and needed a coat. When one of the shop owners learned why she had come to Sandpoint, he insisted on giving her the coat at 90% off!

My first excursion out of the motel was to the coffee shop. I was a major struggle even to go thirty feet on crutches.

Small Town Hospital

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