Happy Anniversary to Me!
I have gone through a lot of "stuff" to get where I am today (fill in the blanks as you choose, especially if you know me well). I can finally admit to myself and others, Superman cape aside that it was not easy, and it still is not easy, on a daily basis.
I will have some physical things that I will never be able to do again, and as tough as you think I am, some days I am not, Those are the facts, plain & simple, black & white, no gray areas. I really thought that I would just bounce right back, and all of the doctors were wrong, that a "miracle" would happen through hard work & perseverance, and I believe it did, just not to my level.
This year has been the hardest, finally realizing that the daily aches, pains & problems are all real, and at 39 years of age, they will be there at 69 years of age, and 79 etc.
I Still believe in ALL the things that I have learned since 8/29/04 & then some, read on!
August 29th, 2009 Happy Anniversary to ME!
Five years ago today, I was struck by a car, on a post-victory recovery ride. I have told the story in bits & pieces, but figured I'd lay it all out on the table.
August 28, 2004: Sherman Park Criterium, Chicago, IL. I found myself in a 3-man break with two excellent competitors, Greg Springborn & Chris Daggs. We were off the front of the field for 48 of the 75 minute race, working well together. I downloaded my SRM, and avg'd 298 watts of power for the 48 minutes we were off the front. I took 1st place, Chris took 2nd, and Greg took 3rd place. I had finally won a Pro, I, II race, even if it was a smaller event, the competition was stiff. It was a good victory.
The next morning, Sunday, after sleeping in, I decided to go for a 3 hour lactic acid ride to clean out the legs. It was cool, as in cool enough to wear arm warmers, vest and oil on the legs. I took off across the river, as the wind was out of the NW.
Winding my way back toward home at 12:15 pm, in Peoria Heights, which is about 5 miles to get back to the house, the following happened:
Tailwind at my back, I was cruising about 26 mph through the intersection of Sciota and Prospect Rd. I heard a squeal of tires, and then euphoria. By the time I could blink, I was suspended in mid air, looking at the roof of an auto part store, and wondering to myself, that this does not look right.
It's amazing, when you have been struck & thrown like that, time stops, just like in the movies. It is the most un-describable feeling. You have no pain, no worries, just time to think, and I don't mean seconds. It seems like hours.I thought of many things while I was up "there", like did I kiss Gina goodbye and tell her I love her as I do before we always leave each other, why am I here, where is the white light & tunnel, am I dead, will I fall to the ground, only to be struck by another car once I hit the pavement, will I actually land on a car driving down the road, will I have time to say goodbye before I die?
All of this happened in a split second, which seemed like an eternity. My last thought was, oh well, I have to land, and it's going to hurt, and hurt bad!I landed on my right side, almost in a fetal position. Eyes open, breathing, alive, and looking at what appeared to be a stream of blood sputtering from my lower extremities, across the road.
The lady who hit me was backing up with her car, right at me! She stopped, got out of the car with a cell phone in her hand, and waddled over to me. She asked "are you OK?" I said "NO you F-ing Bi#ch, dial 9-11." (that is the only words we have ever spoken, not even an apology from her) She was so frazzled, that she could not even dial.
At this time, people had stopped, and were out of their cars, huddling around me. I looked over at my left leg, and saw what appeared to be about 5"-6" of tibia and fibula (shin bone & back of the shin) sticking out of my shin, skin ripped open by the bones crashing through. I was laying in a pool of blood, still spurting out of the open wound, and swelling quickly. I thought they would have to amputate my leg, which at that point, I was pissed about, because the adrenaline was still kicking in, and I felt no pain.
I said to myself, (I think out loud) that I had two choices as Lance Armstrong states in his book, "It's Not About The Bike" "to give up, or fight like hell"I reached in my back pocket, grabbed my cell phone, and handed it to a Good Samaritan who was there. I said, "dial 9-11, and call my wife, her name is Gina, under "HOME" on the contact/address book. Tell Gina that I love her, always have, and always will."
Then the pain came, and came on like Hurricane Katrina, all at once, throughout my entire body, with exception of my head/face.I was screaming in pain at this point. No way to control it. Between breaths, grabbing my left leg above the knee, trying to stop the bleeding, and somehow ease the pain I believed. Bystanders were around, and I was dyeing of thirst. Throughout the entire ordeal, I never went into shock, or lost conciseness.
After though, I wish I had passed out, as the pain was unbearable.A young lady named Shelbie Meister was in the car behind me at the time of the wreck. She was a 3rd year nursing student at Olivet Nazarene University. She witnessed the accident, pulled off and took control of the scene. She told me to breath, deeply, don't scream, no fluids from anyone, as I begged to get a drink of water. She held me in place, like a baby, so I could not move until the EMT's arrived.
I could see the left leg was in big trouble, but didn't realize at this point that my right femur was broken in multiple places as well. She somehow suspected this was the case, or that I had shattered my pelvis, as I was turning blue from the mid stomach down.The EMT's arrive. They begin by cutting my clothes off of me with huge scissors. I said WHOA! STOP! This is my Team Mack kit! They then carefully cut my shorts off, jersey, shoes, socks etc. all up & down the seams, as if I was going to sew it all back together after I got better.
There I was, naked on the street, covered by a foil blanket. The neck brace was installed, and all of the questions like "where does it hurt? can you move your fingers, toes etc" Well, my left leg hurt a "little", and I can speak, so my head is intact. I can move my fingers, so I am not paralyzed.I had to be stabilized, and placed on a backboard. I asked, what are you going to do to stabilize my left leg, still bent, and about 5 inches shorter at this point. They said that they were going to place me on the back board, and I said NO WAY! get a splint or something, and we'll do it that way. Another truck showed up with an air splint to place the leg in.
That's when I realized that my right leg/pelvis was in trouble. They tried to "flip" me on the backboard, by grabbing my right butt cheek, and I screamed bloody murder. I asked them to place the backboard against my back, then we can all flip at the same time. They said that would not work.After what seemed to be an eternity, and chickening out of getting on the board again & again & again, the head EMT looked me in the eye and said: "If we do not get you on this board, in the ambulance, and to the hospital, you will bleed to death right here, take your pick"Between screaming, moaning and spouting EVERY cuss word in the book, I agreed to get on the board. We mapped it out, and agreed to count to 3. The EMT's put a rigid piece of plastic in my mouth for me to bite on, while they were flipping me over. Then came the count: 1, 2 and they flipped me!
I screamed so loud that I think a blood vessel broke in my head!They quickly strapped me to the board, and placed me on a gurney, heading towards the ambulance about 10 feet away. Once inside, I begged for pain medication. They could not give me anything, as I was to be rushed to the trauma unit for surgery.
Just then, a catholic priest hopped into the back of the ambulance, and asked if I wanted to pray. I asked him "Father, am I going to die?" He said that I would, just not today or anytime soon. We prayed, and he held my hand in the ambulance, all the way to the hospital.
I was freezing at this point, and carrying on a conversation with the EMT's the best I could, through screaming in pain, and attempting to breath at the same time. Blood, snot and road debris was all over me. I felt dirty, caked with crud. All I wanted was some pain medication and a shower, not realizing that I had two completely shattered legs, and sitting, let alone standing would be impossible.The EMT's asked what hospital I wanted to go to. Huh? The best one!
They did not realize at this point that I needed to be brought to a level 1 trauma unit, and the only one was OSF St. Francis. Off we went! I asked if anyone had talked to Gina, and they said she had been contacted, and she was on her way to the hospital to meet us.Still screaming, we arrived.
Out the back door of the ambulance, and into the waiting ER unit. There was a team of professionals waiting for me. All I heard from the head ER Nurse is breath, breath, breath. Then the round of questions, again: "what hurts, can you move your fingers, do you have a headache, does it hurt when I poke here, when did you last eat, are you allergic to anything etc" I told them just give me the pain drugs, and NOW! They said they could not do that, as I needed to be examined, and a MRI or CT scan done.
The ER nurse got my attention. (Now, remember, I am on the table, stark naked, covered in blood, screaming in pain, bones sticking out of my leg, surrounded by what seemed like was 100 people, all doing their jobs in the most efficient manner.) The ER nurse shows me a rubber tube, and states that she has to catheterize me. I said, and WHERE are you going to put that thing?
Before I could finish the sentence, she had installed the catheter in my penis, and felt like a rock had struck my bladder. More screaming.More shuffling in the ER, and they asked who the physician assistant on duty was? Kelly Sparks was the answer.
I screamed "Kelly?" I know Kelly! He' s my racing buddy. Not 2 minutes later, here comes Kelly, taking charge of the situation. He came into the ER, and calmly said, Steve, what happened, as he was holding my hand, like a child. (I still don't know how he retained his bedside manner through this) I said Kelly, I got hit on a ride. You have to get me the BEST doctors, period, who will get me racing again.
He looked over the situation, checked all of the stats, and was making a prognosis. I begged him for pain medication. Not as of yet was his response.He then went to the foot of the table, and said "Steve, this is going to hurt". At that time, he grabbed my left foot/ankle, and PULLED the leg toward him, to forcefully pull the broken bones back inside the leg, and straighten them out. I screamed so loud, that the Nun that was with Gina in the waiting area, actually got up and left.
A second later, Kelly yelled to administer the morphine. The pain drugs reacted within a split second, and I was back in euphoria at that time, not a care in the world.Once the morphine fully kicked in, I was OK. I was transferred to a staging room, with G by my side. She's tough, like an alligator skin suitcase. Calm as you could be in this mess, and telling me to breath. I stayed in the staging room with G and a couple of employees/friends, Brad Menold & Pat O'Neill, who G had contacted. They rushed to the hospital immediately.
They told me that I had shattered the right leg, as well as the double compound fracture to the left. No further information at this point. I spoke w/ my parents on the phone, and waited for surgery.
Several hours later, between nodding off & waking up, I met Dr. Bell, the anaesthesiologist who was to put me to sleep for the operation. I only asked that he makes sure I wake up when its all over. He said he would.
Down a COLD hallway to the operating room, I was cracking jokes with the nurses and attendants. We were quoting scenes from the movie "Airplane", as I was so high from the pain drugs, I had no clue what I was doing. I looked up from the gurney, and here was Kevin Neblock, my old cycling coach and friend.
I really thought I was dead, as all I could see was the ceiling, and bright lights at this time.Into the OR, pre-sleep meds go through the IV, and they said to count to 100. I made it to 2, and woke up Tuesday in the ICU after two emergency surgeries, and 5 surgeries total since that day.
I will have some physical things that I will never be able to do again, and as tough as you think I am, some days I am not, Those are the facts, plain & simple, black & white, no gray areas. I really thought that I would just bounce right back, and all of the doctors were wrong, that a "miracle" would happen through hard work & perseverance, and I believe it did, just not to my level.
This year has been the hardest, finally realizing that the daily aches, pains & problems are all real, and at 39 years of age, they will be there at 69 years of age, and 79 etc.
I Still believe in ALL the things that I have learned since 8/29/04 & then some, read on!
August 29th, 2009 Happy Anniversary to ME!
Five years ago today, I was struck by a car, on a post-victory recovery ride. I have told the story in bits & pieces, but figured I'd lay it all out on the table.
August 28, 2004: Sherman Park Criterium, Chicago, IL. I found myself in a 3-man break with two excellent competitors, Greg Springborn & Chris Daggs. We were off the front of the field for 48 of the 75 minute race, working well together. I downloaded my SRM, and avg'd 298 watts of power for the 48 minutes we were off the front. I took 1st place, Chris took 2nd, and Greg took 3rd place. I had finally won a Pro, I, II race, even if it was a smaller event, the competition was stiff. It was a good victory.
The next morning, Sunday, after sleeping in, I decided to go for a 3 hour lactic acid ride to clean out the legs. It was cool, as in cool enough to wear arm warmers, vest and oil on the legs. I took off across the river, as the wind was out of the NW.
Winding my way back toward home at 12:15 pm, in Peoria Heights, which is about 5 miles to get back to the house, the following happened:
Tailwind at my back, I was cruising about 26 mph through the intersection of Sciota and Prospect Rd. I heard a squeal of tires, and then euphoria. By the time I could blink, I was suspended in mid air, looking at the roof of an auto part store, and wondering to myself, that this does not look right.
It's amazing, when you have been struck & thrown like that, time stops, just like in the movies. It is the most un-describable feeling. You have no pain, no worries, just time to think, and I don't mean seconds. It seems like hours.I thought of many things while I was up "there", like did I kiss Gina goodbye and tell her I love her as I do before we always leave each other, why am I here, where is the white light & tunnel, am I dead, will I fall to the ground, only to be struck by another car once I hit the pavement, will I actually land on a car driving down the road, will I have time to say goodbye before I die?
All of this happened in a split second, which seemed like an eternity. My last thought was, oh well, I have to land, and it's going to hurt, and hurt bad!I landed on my right side, almost in a fetal position. Eyes open, breathing, alive, and looking at what appeared to be a stream of blood sputtering from my lower extremities, across the road.
The lady who hit me was backing up with her car, right at me! She stopped, got out of the car with a cell phone in her hand, and waddled over to me. She asked "are you OK?" I said "NO you F-ing Bi#ch, dial 9-11." (that is the only words we have ever spoken, not even an apology from her) She was so frazzled, that she could not even dial.
At this time, people had stopped, and were out of their cars, huddling around me. I looked over at my left leg, and saw what appeared to be about 5"-6" of tibia and fibula (shin bone & back of the shin) sticking out of my shin, skin ripped open by the bones crashing through. I was laying in a pool of blood, still spurting out of the open wound, and swelling quickly. I thought they would have to amputate my leg, which at that point, I was pissed about, because the adrenaline was still kicking in, and I felt no pain.
I said to myself, (I think out loud) that I had two choices as Lance Armstrong states in his book, "It's Not About The Bike" "to give up, or fight like hell"I reached in my back pocket, grabbed my cell phone, and handed it to a Good Samaritan who was there. I said, "dial 9-11, and call my wife, her name is Gina, under "HOME" on the contact/address book. Tell Gina that I love her, always have, and always will."
Then the pain came, and came on like Hurricane Katrina, all at once, throughout my entire body, with exception of my head/face.I was screaming in pain at this point. No way to control it. Between breaths, grabbing my left leg above the knee, trying to stop the bleeding, and somehow ease the pain I believed. Bystanders were around, and I was dyeing of thirst. Throughout the entire ordeal, I never went into shock, or lost conciseness.
After though, I wish I had passed out, as the pain was unbearable.A young lady named Shelbie Meister was in the car behind me at the time of the wreck. She was a 3rd year nursing student at Olivet Nazarene University. She witnessed the accident, pulled off and took control of the scene. She told me to breath, deeply, don't scream, no fluids from anyone, as I begged to get a drink of water. She held me in place, like a baby, so I could not move until the EMT's arrived.
I could see the left leg was in big trouble, but didn't realize at this point that my right femur was broken in multiple places as well. She somehow suspected this was the case, or that I had shattered my pelvis, as I was turning blue from the mid stomach down.The EMT's arrive. They begin by cutting my clothes off of me with huge scissors. I said WHOA! STOP! This is my Team Mack kit! They then carefully cut my shorts off, jersey, shoes, socks etc. all up & down the seams, as if I was going to sew it all back together after I got better.
There I was, naked on the street, covered by a foil blanket. The neck brace was installed, and all of the questions like "where does it hurt? can you move your fingers, toes etc" Well, my left leg hurt a "little", and I can speak, so my head is intact. I can move my fingers, so I am not paralyzed.I had to be stabilized, and placed on a backboard. I asked, what are you going to do to stabilize my left leg, still bent, and about 5 inches shorter at this point. They said that they were going to place me on the back board, and I said NO WAY! get a splint or something, and we'll do it that way. Another truck showed up with an air splint to place the leg in.
That's when I realized that my right leg/pelvis was in trouble. They tried to "flip" me on the backboard, by grabbing my right butt cheek, and I screamed bloody murder. I asked them to place the backboard against my back, then we can all flip at the same time. They said that would not work.After what seemed to be an eternity, and chickening out of getting on the board again & again & again, the head EMT looked me in the eye and said: "If we do not get you on this board, in the ambulance, and to the hospital, you will bleed to death right here, take your pick"Between screaming, moaning and spouting EVERY cuss word in the book, I agreed to get on the board. We mapped it out, and agreed to count to 3. The EMT's put a rigid piece of plastic in my mouth for me to bite on, while they were flipping me over. Then came the count: 1, 2 and they flipped me!
I screamed so loud that I think a blood vessel broke in my head!They quickly strapped me to the board, and placed me on a gurney, heading towards the ambulance about 10 feet away. Once inside, I begged for pain medication. They could not give me anything, as I was to be rushed to the trauma unit for surgery.
Just then, a catholic priest hopped into the back of the ambulance, and asked if I wanted to pray. I asked him "Father, am I going to die?" He said that I would, just not today or anytime soon. We prayed, and he held my hand in the ambulance, all the way to the hospital.
I was freezing at this point, and carrying on a conversation with the EMT's the best I could, through screaming in pain, and attempting to breath at the same time. Blood, snot and road debris was all over me. I felt dirty, caked with crud. All I wanted was some pain medication and a shower, not realizing that I had two completely shattered legs, and sitting, let alone standing would be impossible.The EMT's asked what hospital I wanted to go to. Huh? The best one!
They did not realize at this point that I needed to be brought to a level 1 trauma unit, and the only one was OSF St. Francis. Off we went! I asked if anyone had talked to Gina, and they said she had been contacted, and she was on her way to the hospital to meet us.Still screaming, we arrived.
Out the back door of the ambulance, and into the waiting ER unit. There was a team of professionals waiting for me. All I heard from the head ER Nurse is breath, breath, breath. Then the round of questions, again: "what hurts, can you move your fingers, do you have a headache, does it hurt when I poke here, when did you last eat, are you allergic to anything etc" I told them just give me the pain drugs, and NOW! They said they could not do that, as I needed to be examined, and a MRI or CT scan done.
The ER nurse got my attention. (Now, remember, I am on the table, stark naked, covered in blood, screaming in pain, bones sticking out of my leg, surrounded by what seemed like was 100 people, all doing their jobs in the most efficient manner.) The ER nurse shows me a rubber tube, and states that she has to catheterize me. I said, and WHERE are you going to put that thing?
Before I could finish the sentence, she had installed the catheter in my penis, and felt like a rock had struck my bladder. More screaming.More shuffling in the ER, and they asked who the physician assistant on duty was? Kelly Sparks was the answer.
I screamed "Kelly?" I know Kelly! He' s my racing buddy. Not 2 minutes later, here comes Kelly, taking charge of the situation. He came into the ER, and calmly said, Steve, what happened, as he was holding my hand, like a child. (I still don't know how he retained his bedside manner through this) I said Kelly, I got hit on a ride. You have to get me the BEST doctors, period, who will get me racing again.
He looked over the situation, checked all of the stats, and was making a prognosis. I begged him for pain medication. Not as of yet was his response.He then went to the foot of the table, and said "Steve, this is going to hurt". At that time, he grabbed my left foot/ankle, and PULLED the leg toward him, to forcefully pull the broken bones back inside the leg, and straighten them out. I screamed so loud, that the Nun that was with Gina in the waiting area, actually got up and left.
A second later, Kelly yelled to administer the morphine. The pain drugs reacted within a split second, and I was back in euphoria at that time, not a care in the world.Once the morphine fully kicked in, I was OK. I was transferred to a staging room, with G by my side. She's tough, like an alligator skin suitcase. Calm as you could be in this mess, and telling me to breath. I stayed in the staging room with G and a couple of employees/friends, Brad Menold & Pat O'Neill, who G had contacted. They rushed to the hospital immediately.
They told me that I had shattered the right leg, as well as the double compound fracture to the left. No further information at this point. I spoke w/ my parents on the phone, and waited for surgery.
Several hours later, between nodding off & waking up, I met Dr. Bell, the anaesthesiologist who was to put me to sleep for the operation. I only asked that he makes sure I wake up when its all over. He said he would.
Down a COLD hallway to the operating room, I was cracking jokes with the nurses and attendants. We were quoting scenes from the movie "Airplane", as I was so high from the pain drugs, I had no clue what I was doing. I looked up from the gurney, and here was Kevin Neblock, my old cycling coach and friend.
I really thought I was dead, as all I could see was the ceiling, and bright lights at this time.Into the OR, pre-sleep meds go through the IV, and they said to count to 100. I made it to 2, and woke up Tuesday in the ICU after two emergency surgeries, and 5 surgeries total since that day.
- I learned several things since 8/29/2004:
I learned that on 11/30/1996, the best decision I ever made was to say "I do" and marry my wife Gina. She has been the best throughout this ordeal - I learned that I have more friends and supporters that I could have ever imagined, even to this day
- I learned that grown men cry, especially when they see their friend in the hospital after an accident, and it is OK
- I learned things like this happen, and when someone offers you their help, take it. No man is an island
- I learned that these things not only affect you, but affect everyone around you. Realize that, and work with them to help in your recovery
- I learned that you cannot be a victim
- I learned that you must fight like hell, everyday, although some days a little more than others
- I learned that no one is going to do it except for you, and pity parties are not an option
- I learned that you must get back up after being knocked down, as many times as it takes, as long as it takes, as many resources that it takes to achieve greatness
- I learned that you must be a positive leader & friend to those who are going through a similar situation, whether you know them or not. It is not your choice, it is your duty & responsibility
- I learned that “giving in” is NOT “giving up”
posted by Steve Driscoll at Friday, August 28, 2009
1 comments
