Broken Leg Update: A Year Later and Future Climbing Plans
It’s hard to believe that one year ago today on February 10, 2017, that a rogue wind gust blew me into a field of rocks breaking my leg in three places and crushing my nasal cavity. Thanks to Jim Davidson, Rocky Mountain National Park Rangers, Boulder Mountain Rescue and Larimer County Search and Rescue, I survived – full stop. Now, after three surgeries, I continue to be filled with gratitude and determined to learn and grow from the experience. And it has not been easy. For several months after the initial event, my life shifted from regular climbs in Colorado and plans of more 8,000-meter peaks in Nepal and Pakistan to one of healing. My days became a disciplined routine of exercises that gradually shifted to walks before taking a big jump to hiking back in the mountains. Then it all fell apart. I was pleased with my progress in the middle of last year with some simple, but big steps. I got up Horsetooth on my 61st birthday on July 27. On August 16, I completed a 10-mile hike to Mt. Ida, 12,865’ to honor Ida Arnette, my mom, who died from Alzheimer’s in 2009. Then on September 15, I returned to Twin Sisters with my wife Diane. Plus multiple short hikes around my Northern Colorado town Reality On October 24, 2017 while hiking up a simple 14er, Mt. Bierstadt, my leg gave me clear feedback that it was not ready, and more importantly, something else was wrong. On consultation with my orthopedic Doc, Riley Hale, we took all the screws and plates out of my leg but left the titanium rod in place. The fractures had healed but the screws were impacting my ankle mobility and touching a nerve creating significant feedback and preventing me from even walking. The procedure was a total success with the feedback instantly disappearing. However, it took longer to achieve progress than I had anticipated. This week, as I have for a month now, I walked three miles each day at 3 mph. The feedback is low and getting lower. Remember I don’t use words like pain, accident or recovery; rather feedback, event, and progress. A mind game to be sure, but one that works for me. Dr. Hale told me when we first met that given the severity of my fractures and that “degloving” occured it would take one year to reach my first milestone of basic functions and two years for full progress, but he also added that I would be close but not 100% of the pre-incident condition. He appears to be correct on the first part. Lessons So what have I learned in the last year? First, don’t break a bone. 🙂 I have torn ligaments, dislocated shoulders but never had a process like this. Second, follow orders. As I have said before I have full confidence and gratitude for Dr. Hale. He has addressed my concerns and encouraged my goals. Also, I have benefited greatly from working with my physical therapist, Nina Patterson. As for lessons from the incident itself, there are many. Never climb alone in dangerous or uncertain conditions. Respect the wind 😮 . Be prepared for the unknown and worse case scenarios. Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there, but don’t be foolish. I still believe Jim and I acted responsibly that day given our respective objectives of climbing Everest and Dhaulagiri a few months later. The wind gust was unique in my 20 plus years of climbing all around the world. But it happened. Looking back at my progress, I am glad I pushed myself hard – perhaps a bit too hard at times – but that is part of my make-up. To do less would not be who I am. That said, I did back off after the Bierstadt and re-evaluated then took actions to fix the problems. Therein lies the lesson for me – listen to your body, take care of it and it will take care of you. Be positive is a lesson I linked to the incident half an hour into that cold windy afternoon. As I said, I wasn’t going to be a martyr, a victim and not defined by a broken leg but rather to use it for good. It is an attitude and a choice that I had full control over. By surrounding myself with positive and supportive people like Diane, Jim, Gloria, Barry, Rodney, Robert, Ryan, Patrick and more, I fed off their positive energy to make me a better person. Let me add to the lesson list to support your local Search and Rescue organizations. What they do is simply remarkable. if you climb, hike, hunt, fish, picnic by a running stream or boat in a lake – they are your safety net. Support them with your donations annually. Next I still don’t know. At one point I hoped to attempt another 8000er this Spring, but that won’t happen. Candidly, I am woefully out of shape after being mostly inactive, as compared to my previous level of fitness, for a year. I am addressing that. My Project 8000 where I wanted to summit all of the 8000-meters peaks I hadn’t is on hold and most likely will not happen unless a sponsor emerges. I have summited Everest, K2, and Manaslu and had good attempts on Lhotse, Cho Oyu, Broad Peak and Shishapangma so I know I could give it a go, but … now at age 61, I’m mindful of the saying “There are old climbers and bold climbers, but not old bold climbers.” Someone once told me that Reinhold Messner is the greatest climber of all time – just because he is still alive. My goal since 2009, when Ida Arnette was killed by Alzheimer’s Disease, was to use my climbing to raise awareness and funds for research. I’m proud of my results thus far and will never give up on that life purpose. The question is if climbing is still my
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
The Gall of it All!
My eyes popped open with an urgency I rarely felt while sleeping. The pain in my upper abdomen was strong this Friday night after Thanksgiving. Nine hours later I was being rolled into the operating room gleefully singing: “So long, farewell Auf wiedersehen, goodnight” The pre-anesthesia was kicking in but more so was my own belief in trying to find the positive in a bad situation. From 1 until 5 am, I tried to clear whatever was causing my pain but to no avail. The pain was constant and increasing. Finally around sunrise, I told Diane “Its not getting any better. I know my body and we need to get to the ER.” She kicked into action and 15 minutes later I was there, hunched over, alternating between sweating and shivering. As I checked in the nurse joked – “Bad turkey?” I wished it had been that simple. Gallbladder Disease I had gallbladder disease – sounds worse than it is but is still serious. After a slew of high-tech tests and imaging, the Docs said I had a blockage in my gallbladder that was stopping the release of bile into my stomach. The backup had built over time and reached a critical mass that night. The gall bladder was extended, enlarged and generally in a bad mood. The surgeon was more succinct: “It’s rotten.” I was presented with several choices: do nothing and see if it corrects itself (unlikely given it was enlarged now), wait until another episode then take care of it (not a good option given what I had just gone through and especially a bad option if it occurred in the middle of a climb) and third: take it out. I choose door number three. A ticking Gall I have had stomach, GI or whatever issues for years. Starting back in high school when I would vomit after every track practice. Then when I started climbing, many expeditions were cut short with intense abdominal pain. I was flown off Denali in 2007 with such symptoms only to find no root cause after going through a Mayo Clinic class of tests. I made some changes to how I maintained my hydration and nutrition during climbs that seemed to do the trick and I haven’t had any GI issue since 2011. But apparently the calcium stones were slowing growing regardless of my diet and life style. Could Of, Would of … This is the time when some readers start to type “Well, Alan, you should have …” and I usually welcome these shared experiences and advice – similar to telling me I shouldn’t use plastic trash bags … 😆 but I’m not sure I’m ready for this at the moment. Of course I could eat better, exercise more, not break my leg, be taller, change my hair color, change my genetics … But the Docs said about 10% of us get this thing and there was not a lot I could have done. Drum roll for those who will now promote the latest probiotic, Dr. Gall’s Bladder treatment, the new North Afghan Diet that is guaranteed to reduce gallbladder stones, ultrasound, light theory and 48 hours of continuous Kenny G music … and more. I know your heart is in the right spot but can you hold off a bit? Next Steps This Thursday, I will still have the screws and plates removed from my broken leg. The good news is that they will have to use less anesthesia since I’m already under now! (joke). I will be laying low in December to recoup from both of these year-end events and enjoying family time and watching football. I just wish Denver had a pro football team. In January, I will begin a 24 week exercise program designed by Steve House and Scott Johnston of Uphill Athlete. It’s a standard program available to anyone. It will give me a carrot to encourage my overall recovery to fitness with the stick coming from the hole in my abdomen to remind me that I can always do any things better. I don’t have any climbing plans for 2018, but I’d like to be ready if an opportunity presents itself, perhaps in the autumn? 2017 By now, if you are still reading!! 🙂 you might be think, Wow Alan, you have had a tough 2017. Well yes and no. Of course the broken leg in February and now this in November were unplanned and put a dent in my plans. But the good outweighs the bad by a mile this year. Diane and I formalized our relationship and have built a home with Cory. I have used the incidents to build a positive foundation for the next phase in my life. I have deepened my understand of who I am in the process for dealing with these events. My true friends have become even closer and my new friends have made contributions I never imagined. I furthered my connection with The Cure Alzheimer’s Fund in October and my Summit Coach business has taken off and I find great satisfaction in helping others achieve their dreams. Yes, 2017 has been a good year – and it’s not over! Climb On! Alan Memories are Everything
Broken Leg Update: A Setback and a Plan
I’m not where I want to be in my progress for my broken leg. Full stop. So I have two options: A) accept it or B) do something about it. I choose B. After my Bierstadt hike a few weeks ago, my ankle and leg began to sing a coordinated chorus. At times, they kept me up with all their singing. Captain Rod had lost all control so I had to do an intervention and escalate to a higher power … my Doc! I saw Dr. Hale today and explained the situation. He had mentioned months ago, and encouraged, that I was pushing myself unlike his standard patient so if I did experience discomfort or lack of mobility, we could take steps to address it. As I have said before, my goal is to climb again, not to move from the couch to the chair. I have been thoughtful in my activity, not foolish, resting as needed and giving myself permission to take days, even weeks off, but I want and need more progress. The x-rays show all three fractures have completely healed so the hardware is not adding value. The time has come … On 30 November, I’ll go under the gas and knife again to have all, yes all, the screws and plates removed from my tibia and fibula. It will take about half an hour and the recovery should be straightforward. I’ll walk out of the surgical center. We don’t know if it will “fix” all the issues but according to Dr. Hale, there is little downside. And I want to go ice climbing in Ouray in January so – Come On Man!! Climb On! Alan Memories are Everything Background On February 10, 2017 while training for the 8000 meter peak, Dhaulagiri, a sudden wind gust estimated near 100 mph swept me off my feet and into a talus field on a simple walk up mountain of Twin Sisters Peak, 11,4327′, in Rocky Mountain National Park near Estes Park, Colorado. I described the entire incident in my post Broken Leg: I don’t want to be in the Rocks. When I was slammed into the rocks near 11,000 feet that Friday afternoon, my lower right leg was broken in multiple places. The tibia had an angular fracture and the fibula was also broken. My left leg had a puncture wound. My nasal cavity was broken as well. The injuries required two operations under full anesthesia and a five day stay in the hospital. Jim Davidson was with me that day and called 911 who in turn set a rescue in motion with Rangers from Rocky Mountain National Park, Rocky Mountain Rescue Group and Larimer County Search and Rescue. Jim cared for me over four hours as I lie in the rocks and it took another five hours for SARs to evacuate me off the mountain. Previous Updates: Broken Leg: I Don’t Want to be in the Rocks Broken Leg Update: One Month Out Broken Leg Update: Two Months Out Broken Leg Update: Three Months Out Broken Leg Update: Five Months Out Broken Leg: Return to Twin Sisters Broken Leg Update: Eight Months Out Broken Leg Update: A Setback and a Plan Broken Leg Update: A Year Later and Future Climbing Plans Broken Leg Update: Ready to Jump (again)
Broken Leg Update: Eight Months Out
Part of my “progress” plan from breaking my leg in February is to set measurable, meaningful goals that cause me to push myself to my limits. Well this week was a complete victory that both built me up and tore me down. I thrive on goals. Without them I feel lost, drifting with no purpose. Thus the last several months have been critical to my continued progress and perhaps one day back to where I was on February 9, 2017 – the day before. In late July I had set these goals: Walk a mile three times a week then to hike up my local hill, Horsetooth Mountain, 7,260′ on my birthday. In August to return to Twin Sisters. In September, climb Longs Peak keeping my annual summit pace in tact. Milestones Today, October 26, this is my report card: I got up Horsetooth on my 61st birthday on July 27. On August 16, I competed a 10 mile hike to Mt. Ida, 12,865’ to honor Ida Arnette, my mom, who died from Alzheimer’s in 2009. Then on September 15, I returned to Twin Sisters with my wife Diane. Plus multiple short hikes around my Northern Colorado town But my hike up Longs seemed to keep slipping away due to poor weather or my own lack of confidence. I had hoped to climb Longs via the Keiner’s route with my long time friend Ryan Kushner, but I cancelled after a short hike up St. Mary’s Glacier hike with Jim Davidson. My leg became very swollen and I knew it would be foolish to attempt something as difficult as Keiner’s being in the shape I was in. So I continued to do my daily routine of walking, stretching and doing short hikes. Then Tuesday, 24 October 2017, I made a decision to push myself once again to my limits: physical, mental and emotional. Bierstadt – an “easy” 14er Joined by Barry Johnson aka Moe Kowbell, and Jim Davidson, we left Ft. Collins before dark for Mount Bierstadt, one of the Colorado 14ers at 14,065′. It would take the place of my annual Longs summit. Certainly not in the same league but a solid test for me. We left the trail head at dawn knowing the weather forecast that day called for cold temperatures with breezy conditions. My leg felt great at first. The physical test soon began with my calve tightening up and my ankles chattering. Jim, Barry and I stopped and talked it over and decided it was too early to turn back. I slowed my pace from 2.5 mph to a little over one. Jim and Barry chatted as we walked. I soon became lost in my own world. As we broke 12,000′ and then added another 500, my leg tingled. Jim called it a zinger. I wondered if the screws in my ankle that hold the plate that repaired my fibula were pressing against a nerve. Dr. Hale had told me this might happen and we could take the screws out. We paused again to talk it over. I said we all needed to be clear, open, and honest with our thoughts. Barry then shared that he was struggling because he had Foreigner’s “Cold as Ice” running through his head. The comic relief was welcomed. I knew that I had to focus on my mental toughness to keep pushing. I was not hurt, the tingling was annoying but nothing I couldn’t push through. The calf tightness had eased now the only part of Capitan Rod and the Team that was talking was the area around the fracture. It seems to crave attention. As we approached 13,000′ the wind picked up. We put on our gortex jackets and microspikes to gain traction on the snow covered ground. We walked in silence as the wind prevented any conversation. During one pause, Barry came over, put his arm around me and said “Lets get this thing. I believe it will help your confidence.” I continued walking knowing my friends were with me every step of the way. Without warning, a gust pushed me slightly to one side. I stopped in my tracks and bent over on my trekking poles. I said out loud to no one “I don’t like this.” and fought hard to control my emotions. About his time Jim came to my side. “Alan, I’ll walk downwind of you so that if you get pushed you’ll go into me.” I nodded and continued slowly higher. Jim’s friendship, ability to say the right thing at the right time continues to amaze me. The winds were brutal. Barry, a pilot, described it as a venturi over an airplane wing gaining speed with each gust. Jim pointed out a plate size chunk of ice flying by our heads. We paused again to review our situation. Knowing the wind would calm down once we reached the saddle where the mountain would block the northwest wind, we pushed on. I now was pushing my limits: physically, mental and emotionally. Each gust of wind brought me back to Twin Sisters. I walked slowly and carefully looking at the rocks, thankful we were in a mostly open area so that If I did fall, I would simply hit snow covered ground. Still, the thoughts of that day became visions occupying my mind, every thought. I fought for control. I paused and looked around. Jim and Barry were fighting their own battle against the wind and cold. A sense of calm came over me. I knew I was where I should be in this moment. I picked up my pace. We stopped at the saddle, 13,796′ and took a drink and bite. With the wind howling on the summit less than 300′ higher, I said I was happy; let’s go down but offered to Jim and Barry to continue to the summit, knowing it would take them 15 minutes. Barry interrupted me “We are not splitting up.” And with that we started down. The descent was
Broken Leg Update: Return to Twin Sisters
Part of my progress plan from breaking my leg at 11,000 feet on Twin Sisters Peak was to return to the spot where it had occurred. Yesterday, I did just that joined by my wife, Diane. It was a moment of gratitude. As we crossed tree line, I spotted the gnarly tree trunk that had served as my marker for hours that afternoon as I laid in the rocks. I looked at it often before shifting my gaze to tree line hoping to see help arrive. Now the hike to tree line had taken almost twice as long as it did pre-incident, but speed was not the objective. Diane and I talked nonstop the entire way about anything and everything other than why we were there. Confidence My first big hike since the incident was a 10 mile hike to Mt. Ida, 12,865’ in Rocky Mountain National Park on August 16 to honor Ida Arnette, my mom, who died from Alzheimer’s in 2009. I try to do this every year and was not going to miss this year – broken leg or not. It was slow and arduous, a plodding pace of one mile per hour but I made it. That day the key moment came when I had to cross an area of small to medium size rocks and boulders created by the freeze-thaw cycle breaking down larger boulders above. This centuries old process created a large area called a talus field. I have crossed many talus fields over my 25 years of hiking and climbing and have always enjoyed the rhythm of hopping and dancing from one stone to the next, a song playing in my head and a game of how fast can I cross. That day near Ida, everything was different. I had visions of laying in the rocks on Twin Sisters, of looking across the talus field at eye level. That day each step was slow, calculated and hesitant. My confident dance had turned to an insecure crawl. As I have completed more hikes near my Northern Colorado home, my confidence has increased. A few days ago, I did a moderate rock scramble to the top of Horsetooth Rock. My climbing partner that day, Barry, kept a careful watch over every movement on the class four section. I felt I made more progress that day. You see, Dr. Hale had repaired my leg but it was up to me to rebuild my confidence. Reflections As I walked towards the spot where the sudden wind gust lifted me off my feet, hurling me down the rocky mountain side, flipping me head over feet; I began a running commentary on what happened. “This is where Jim and I stopped to take off our snowshoes. The wind was blowing hard, maybe 40 miles per hour but not enough for us to be worried that something crazy might happen – like one of us get blown off our feet.” Diane listened intensly. We walked slowly along the well worn trail that was randomly covered in rocks. I was careful to avoid stepping on one as any twist of my lower right leg generated significant feedback from my “Team tibia, fibula, ligaments, ankle and fascia”. Thanks to the titanium rod my leg was stable but my mind continued to consider the possibility of another incident. I reached the point on the trail just above the tree trunk. “This is where it happened.” I said in a hushed voice. My emotions were complex – a mixture of apprehension and peace. The wind picked up about that time causing me to glance uphill unsure of what I expected to see. Diane continued by side as she has for several years now. I gingerly took a step off the trail towards my tree. Each step was a test of confidence. Each move tested my resolve. Each moment was a measure of my resilience. I went downhill maybe 20 or 30 feet until I found a small depression in the rocks. I stared for a moment with a vision of seeing myself lying there. My head was uphill, my right leg in the air, my hands reaching out towards it, my anguished cries being lost in the winds. As I sat where I had laid, I looked back towards the trail. It had all happened so quickly, in a blink of an eye. My training for Dhaulagiri was over, perhaps my dreams of climbing my remaining 8000 meter peaks and using my climbing to raise awareness and funds for Alzheimer’s. Had it all ended here? Beginnings Within the first hour, I had made a decision that February day to not be defined by this event and to find the positive and hold onto it with all that I am. My mind shifted to all those who had helped me that day and I began to say their names. The list was long but as I said each one, pausing to see their face, my sense of peace grew. This would not be an ending but a new beginning. Diane and I stayed at my spot for almost an hour, talking quietly, sharing our feelings, processing the moment – then and now. She offered a Metta. I was so proud of her. She had not hiked at this level for years. She told me that what kept her going was the purpose of the day, to support me. When she became tired, she thought of all those who had come to my aid that late Friday afternoon, pushing through the cold temps, deep snow and high winds. Her gratitude to those was boundless. We took pictures and made a video and began our walk back down. Our spirits lifted and confidence rose. Next Steps All three of my fractures have healed. The area around my ankle gets tight when pushed but the feedback has reduced to a soft murmur. I listen carefully to my body and have embraced when to push and when to
Broken Leg Update: Five Months Out
Dr. Hale entered the examining room, my X-Ray was on the viewing screen. It has been 20 weeks since my “incident”. He shook my hand and began … I’ve been a bit nervous about this next appointment. My leg continues to chatter like a hungry kitten. Every now and then it roars like a lion. But we have built a solid relationship based on mutual respect and trust – that is my leg and I, oh and also with Dr. Hale. However, now five months out, I’m eager to see faster progress, to stand up without extra effort, to walk on a hill, to … Healing “Alan, the fractures have healed. Everything looks very good. Do you have any pain anywhere?” He didn’t know I don’t use words like pain (awareness), injury or accident (incident), recovery (progress) to describe my “journey.” “I have a high level of awareness from here to here.” I said pointing to my knee and then my ankle.”But my knee is talking a lot especially when I push off with it when standing or on a longish walk.” And then he dropped the bomb. “With the severity of your injury, it normally takes 2 years to recover.” My shoulders dropped. I felt myself stop breathing. “But you are far ahead of others. Your pain is normal, especially in the knee area. Overall you are 6 months ahead of where I thought you would be at this point.” I began to breath again. Stripped Bone I wanted to understand what had happened to my leg. We went into detail. He said I had experienced “degloving” of the tibia and fibula as a result of the intense energy it took to break my bones that winter afternoon. Later that day I googled “degloving” and learned: “A degloving injury is a type of avulsion in which an extensive section of skin is completely torn off the underlying tissue, severing its blood supply.” He went on to say that as bones heal they get larger then reduce back to normal size. That swelling is normal, to be expected, but gave me a prescription to reduce it a bit. He encouraged me to stay with my exercise program, to stress my leg to the limits of my pain threshold – all of this would enable me to recover fast and strong. In other words keep doing what I have been doing. No ACL My knee has been a bit noisey. In 1974, I tore my ACL and medial meniscus playing pickup football. In those days, they simply removed the damaged tissue instead of repairing them so I have lived without an ACL for 43 years. I have a fair amount of arthritis in my knee as well, normal for a 60 year-old. As a result of not having an ACL, and staying very active all my adult life, the surrounding muscles – quads, etc have overdeveloped in order to provide support for my knee. With this recent incident and the associated atrophy of the muscles in my right leg, the knee is acting up. Some days it is quiet and well behaved, other times it chats up a storm. I listen carefully, and then we have a chat about what to do. Sometimes I back off my activity, other times I push thru it. All I know is that the more active I am, the less feedback I get. Plans At the last visit with Dr. Hale in March, we discussed my plans to walk, hike and climb again. I was hoping for a climb on my birthday or an Autumn big one. He gave me the all clear to begin my plans but deep down I knew my heart was stronger than my leg. Today, I broached my passion once again. He sat down as I talked. He looked me direct in my eyes with full attention. I new he wanted to be encouraging but also to set expectations. “It might be tough to do something big soon.” He said, revealing the obvious. “Yes, I had hoped to do something “big” six months from the incident but now I feel it is probably a year.” Dr. Hale nodded in agreement. And with that my future was set. I know my guardrails, I know my stop and start signs. I know my body, and I know my heart. Giving Back As I continue my “progress” an opportunity emerged to thank the Search and Rescue members who came to Jim and my aid on February 10. A fundraiser was held to offset the costs they incur. Staffed by volunteers, they are self funded and thru donations. They do not charge for rescues or receive any government funding. Each volunteer pays $3,000 each to join SARs and buys all their own gear plus often leaves work to give aid. As I described in the original post Broken Leg: I don’t want to be in the Rocks their professionalism and dedication was simply amazing thus when Jim and I were asked to speak at the fundraiser, we seized the opportunity to thank them and share our observations of the incident. Over $60,000 was raised to support this very active team located in Northern Colorado for the next two years. Old and Bold The saying that “There are old climbers, there are bold climbers, but there are no old bold climbers.” is often used to discourage someone to stop while they are ahead. The same phrase applies to other disciplines for example pilots. I’ve been thinking about this as I turn 61 in about a month. I’ve also been thinking about 78 year-old Carlos Soria Fontan. He is the only person to have climbed ten mountains higher than 8,000 meters after turning 60 including K2 and Everest. I was looking forward to meeting him on Dhaulagiri this past spring. He was there but didn’t summit. I know my journey has had some twists and see it kind of like this: Next So where to go from here? I am making good progress. My leg is healing. My
Broken Leg Update: Three Months Out
On February 10, 2017 while training for the 8000 meter peak, Dhaulagiri, a sudden wind gust estimated near 100 mph swept me off my feet and into a talus field on a simple walk up mountain of Twin Sisters Peak, 11,4327′, in Rocky Mountain National Park near Estes Park, Colorado. I described the entire incident in my post Broken Leg: I don’t want to be in the Rocks. Now 12 weeks to the day after incident, I want to provide another update. The Injury When I was slammed into the rocks near 11,000 feet that Friday afternoon, my lower right leg was broken in multiple places. The tiba had an angular fracture and the fibula was also broken. My left leg had a puncture wound. My nasal cavity was broken as well. The injuries required two operations under full anesthesia and a five day stay in the hospital. The incident occurred at 12:15 pm on a Friday. I was with my close friend and frequent climbing partner Jim Davidson who was training for Everest (he is there now). Jim called 911 and cared for me for the next four hours as I lay in the rocks on the side of a mountain. Climbing Rangers from Rocky Mountain National Park arrived near sunset to begin my rescue. Search and Rescue teams from Larimer and Boulder County came in full force to assist. In all about 40 people helped save me that afternoon and evening. I was taken to the hospital in Estes Park but then transferred a few hours later to The Medical Center of the Rockies in Loveland, Colorado where Dr. Orr repaired my nose and Dr. Riley, my leg. Healing Over the past three months, I have been diligent in my physical therapy. My orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Riley Hale, told me to push to my tolerance as I healed. By stressing the fracture it would heal faster and stronger than by laying around. I was clear with all my doctors and therapists that my goal at age 60 was not to be able to move from the couch to the chair. I wanted to climb again. To start, I rode a stationary bike, walked as much as half a mile and did laps on three flights of stairs. I pushed myself very hard. The Doctor Says On Monday, April 17, I saw Dr. Hale, my Orthopedic surgeon for the 10 week x-ray and check. I was a bit apprehensive as I felt good but was experiencing an “awareness” (I refuse to use the word pain) in my lower shin area when I strongly stressed it. They took an X-Ray He said I was progressing faster than usual, and was pleased I was not using crutches. He was surprised that I was wearing street shoes. He said my swelling was normal and my gait looked good and would improve. Then he paused and said something he had not previously mentioned. “Alan, your break was as bad as it gets without breaking thru the skin.” He continued. “The “energy” that it took to break those bones in so many places was “impressive”. I suspect that most of the tissue around your tibia and fibula were stripped away. I expected a longer recovery time for you than what you are taking.” And with that he added: “You are clear to do what you want.” Reconciling ‘May’ with ‘Can’ As I left Dr. Hale’s office with the great news, I was ecstatic. I immediately thought of taking my new freedom out for a spin, to return to RMNP, to climb a snow couloir since it the best time of year to do that. My mind was exploding with options. Then I started walking to the car. I stopped by the grocery store on the way home. Each step reminded me that I was still healing. I was no longer hurt, but I was hurting. The tissue around my damaged bones needed to heal. Even though the fracture was starting to heal it was not 100%. The tendons, muscles and surrounding tissues from my knee to my toes reminded me of the extent of damage. They spoke loudly to me when I pushed too hard. It was difficult to accept, but I was not climbing anything soon. And, not but, I was grateful to just walk around the block. The memory of lying in the rocks was alive. It was living, breathing and occasionally reaching out making sure I never forgot. So while I was told “Alan, you may go out and life your life.” the reality was “Alan, you still have a way to go before you can live your life.” Mental Judo Lying in those rocks, an hour after the “incident”, I told myself, I was not going to be a victim, I was not going to be defined by this event and I was going to find the positive. I made some firm decisions almost immediately. I made choices about how I was going to respond to this incident. I selected my vocabulary carefully, not out of denial or being pollyannish but to set a positive tone for me. I use the word “awareness” instead of pain. If someone asks me if it hurts, I say I have a high awareness of the area. I refuse to say this was an accident, it was an “incident“. What happened, was out of my control. The only way to have avoided it was to not do what I love. And I refuse to compromise my life on the random chance that something may happen. I believe in the mind-body connection. When I feel a sensation in my knee, leg, ankle or foot, I talk to it. “Hey, what’s going on? Yeah, I know it not what you want. Thanks for letting me know. It will be OK.” and we move on. I know it sounds a bit crazy but I’ve developed quite a relationship with my tiba these days 🙂 When I take a step, I visualize the second step, not the first. The first step always challenges me. I can be wobbly, uncertain. I can be a bit timid so
Broken Leg Update: Two Months Out
I broke my leg in four places and smashed my nasal cavity eight weeks ago today when a wind gust shoved me violently off my feet and into a rock field on Twin Sisters Peak. Jim Davidson, SAR teams plus Rangers from RMNP demonstrating the highest levels of knowledge, professionalism and compassion got me to hospitals where after two surgeries, I am now recovering. My last update was four weeks ago so time for another update. I am physically healing, yet I struggle with dark thoughts. As I fall asleep many nights, I hear the phrase “I don’t want to be in the rocks.” When I do my professional speaking events, I often use several mantras that I have found helped me on mountains like Everest and K2 to stay focused, to keep going and to maintain perspective. Today, I use those same phrases to push hard during physical therapy, to maintain a positive attitude and to keep the incident’s impact on my life in perspective. Hurt or Hurting? As I lay in the rocks, my face bleeding into a pool of blood and my twisted lower right leg sending wave after wave of searing pain throughout my body, I knew I was hurt. I was hurt badly. Often on a big climb, there comes a moment when you think you don’t have anything left, you are empty. You can’t go on. Your legs hurt, your lungs cry out in pain. The very thought of taking one more step higher becomes a major life decision. Not melodramatic, but reality at 8000 meters with temperatures at -20F and the winds gusting to 40 mph. It is that moment when you turn to your purpose, the reason for being there. And you do an inventory of your situation. I shifted my weight slightly in a failed attempt to ease the pressure from the multiple rocks that made up my bed that afternoon on Twin Sisters. As I moved, I traded one sharp poke for another and let out a whimper. I sighed and let my head drop back into the cradle I had created with my arms and my down jacket hood. Why was I here? What had happened? How would I get out? Many questions, few answers. As Jim put the water bottle to my lips, I sipped the water. His presence made me feel better. Answers began to develop. And yes I was hurt, not hurting. I needed help. If I was hurting, I would push thru. But I was deeply hurt and needed help to get me out of the situation. Hard or Impossible? Coming down from K2, I was fighting pulmonary oedema, a condition where fluid builds up in your lungs. My teammates were climbing in the area, but out of eyesight and voice contact. I was climbing alone. I was responsible for rigging my belay at each anchor. At 24,000 feet on the steep rocks of the Black Pyramid, I couldn’t afford to make a mistake, but then I did. I took the loop of rope and put it into my belay device but failed to clip into my carabiner that was attached to my harness. I leaned back to test the rig. Immediately I fell backwards, off my feet and against the black rocks of the wall. My heart raced as I frantically reached for the ropes. I gasped for air in the already thin atmosphere. And then I stopped. Operating on what I call “muscle memory”, when I had approached the anchor I had instinctively clipped a different carabiner into the anchor as a safety. This mindless action had now saved my life. The safety caught my fall, albeit after a drop and a jolt. Could I really get myself down K2 in my condition? I knew it would be hard, but not impossible. I had the skills, the experience and the motivation to keep going. Now laying in those rocks in Colorado, Amber, the Ranger who had the lead on communicating with me throughout the incident, gave me a blunt warning as they were preparing to put my leg in an inflatable splint. “Alan this is going to hurt like nothing you have ever felt in your life.” I knew she was right. I had been preparing for this moment for four hours. And she was correct. This was hard but not impossible. After a terrifying few minutes, it was time to begin my evacuation. 1,000 Reasons to Stop, Only 1 to Go On Lying on the therapist’s table, Jessica said “OK, now lift your left leg and push your hips up while supporting your weight on your right (injured) leg. I looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. Not that I didn’t understand, I didn’t know if I could do it. I took a breath, got into position and lifted my hips. A searing pain radiated from my repaired tibia. My hips fell to the table. “That hurt didn’t it?” she said with a slight evil grin.” I grinned back and mumbled something. “OK, let’s not do this.” she volunteered. Without thought, I pushed my hips back up, tolerating the discomfort for a slight moment. This was not the time to stop. Short Simple Steps My first trip down the stairs was one of those moments. I put my crutch aside and focused on the step. Both feet were firmly planted then I placed one foot higher, followed by the other. Steeled with confidence, I began to climb normally, one foot per step until I reached my goal, a whopping eight steps. I let out a “whoop”! As I left the Balcony on Everest, Kami Sherpa seemed to set a blazing pace. Soon I found out why. We caught up with a herd of climbers seemingly stuck in place. Kami glanced at me over his shoulder and nodded. In the relatively flatish area, we passed the stalled climbers but at a cost. My lungs were searing, I gasped for breath at the accelerated pace. Soon we clipped back into the fixed line and returned to a sustainable pace.
Broken Leg Update: One Month Out
It was four weeks ago to the minute that a wind gust tossed me around like a piece of paper on Twin Sisters Peak. A heroic effort by my climbing partner, Jim Davidson, SAR teams plus Rangers from RMNP got me to hospitals where after two surgeries, I am now recovering at home. Wow, what a journey. I have had plenty of time to reflect on the experience but I’m not finished processing the event. I still have trouble sleeping and hear the phrase “I don’t want to be in the rocks.” in my mind at random times. And I am grateful. “Fracture Blisters” My leg is healing nicely. I have become acquainted with terms like “fracture blisters”. I started physical therapy and they seemed pleased when they measured my swelling and evaluated my ankle mobility and knee compression. I still have no feeling around my right cheek from hitting the rocks and breaking my nose. All I know is that I will need my boot and crutches for another month or so and that I have made a permanent dent on the couch with my butt. When I look at my leg, I see scars, blisters, incisions and swelling. I also see a leg that while damaged, didn’t give up on me. I see injuries so severe that without help, I would have laid in those rocks until I died. When I look in the mirror, I no longer see black eyes or a bent nose. I look like I always did, but deep in my eyes there is a difference. I see that my trauma was the manifestation of what love, friendship, unselfish aid and true generosity embodies. Today I can move my toes, my ankle, my knee at will. I can ride the stationary bike for a few minutes at a time and walk with my ‘boot’ around the block. I am on the red resistance band moving to green soon. However, I am finding that I am pushing myself too fast and need to demonstrate the same patience I learned while climbing 8000 meter mountains. I spend my time with good friends on ‘lunch duty’ and have started covering the upcoming Everest 2017 season for my site. Of course I will be following Jim Davidson‘s Everest climb. Missing the Mountains And there is loss. I mourn that I am home, sleeping in late in my comfortable bed instead of pushing my training to get ready to climb Dhaulagiri, the 26,795 foot peak in Nepal. I miss packing my gear, finalizing details and closing my eyes to see myself high on the flanks of the peak. Next month I will miss being in my -20 sleeping bag with the winds howling outside my tent. I will miss the struggle to breathe at 18,000 feet then 22,000 feet and above. I will miss the gentle consonance of Kami by my side as I have for the past four years. I will miss Nepal. I will miss my mountains. Making Choices And I am grateful, a phrase I continue to repeat. I don’t believe things happen for a reason. I believe things happen. And I believe it is up to the individual to choose how they respond. They can be a victim, a martyr or bury themselves in self pity. I choose to see the positive. I choose to celebrate my incisions as evidence of what doctors can do. I choose to feel my aches and pain as my body telling me it will be OK and that I will heal and climb again. I choose to share my experience, not for sympathy or publicity, but to offer anyone interested, lessons that they may choose to glean. The Future I have not thought a lot about when or what I will climb, but I will climb again. I have been incredibly fortunate to have been on over 35 major expeditions, including three summits 8000 meter mountains (Everest, K2 and Manaslu) and attempts on four other 8000ers. Living in Colorado, climbing our 14,000 foot peaks aka 14ers, has been my training and playground. I have almost 200 summits of 14ers. Plus climbing peaks on all 7 continents has been an amazing experience. However, right along side with my passion for climbing has been my purpose, Alzheimer’s. And that is my true summit – to find a cure and support caregivers until that time. I will continue my work to raise awareness and funds for research. Time So, what’s next? First there is time to heal, at least six months taking me into late summer before I can even begin to do anything serious. Then there is time to get back into shape. At 60, I know I will not bounce back like a 30 year-old but I have been pleased with how my old bones are responding. But, Alan, will you climb another 8000 peak? What about Project 8000? I hope to return to Nepal, Tibet or Pakistan to attempt at least one more 8000er but I have no plans today, only hopes and dreams. If I do, it will be in 2018 or later, and I am fine with that. And if all my future climbs are here in Colorado, including going back to Twin Sisters, I’m fine with that too. Yes, I would rather be training for Dhaulagiri, but I celebrate the opportunities to learn, share and grow that this incident has opened for me. Climb On! Alan Memories are Everything Previous Updates: Broken Leg: I Don’t Want to be in the Rocks Broken Leg Update: One Month Out Broken Leg Update: Two Months Out Broken Leg Update: Three Months Out Broken Leg Update: Five Months Out Broken Leg: Return to Twin Sisters Broken Leg Update: Eight Months Out Broken Leg Update: A Setback and a Plan Broken Leg Update: A Year Later and Future Climbing Plans Broken Leg Update: Ready to Jump (again)