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Photo of author by Andy Bronson Cascadia Daily News, composite by Ron Henry
I didn’t realize I was in such a fix until the ER doctor asked loudly into the ear of my prone self, "Would you like us to perform some heroic measures to save your life?”
What? What kind of question was that? Were we having a discussion? It sounded off-the-wall to my barely conscious mind, but to keep all options open I answered, “Hell yes—I want to come back from this!”
I didn’t know yet what "this" was. It turned out to be a collapsed lung, two subarachnoid hemorrhages comprising a traumatic brain injury, and seven broken bones—a clavicle and six ribs. All this from crashing my bike on an open road, over an unmarked water diverter/speed bump that ran at an odd angle across the street.
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I also didn’t know that my age was factored into the doctor’s question. Anyone in my physical and mental state who is over sixty-five is considered at a poor statistical risk for trying to save their life. Call it “statistical ageism.” I was seventy-five at the time, and eager and happy for whatever the doctor could do for me.
A year later to the day, I visited this ER doctor to give him my heartfelt thanks for everything he did that night, and I mentioned the voice in my ear. He smiled broadly and said, “That was me, and that was NOT a theoretical question.” Until that moment, I hadn’t fully understood I had been in such dire straits.
That night in the ER was followed by two days in the ICU, two in a post-surgical room, and eight days of inpatient rehab. Then of course, there was a month of outpatient rehab in four categories, a psych exam to check my sense of reality, and six months of being under my wife’s guidance and veto power. She had to OK my every move (brain injuries do cause disinhibition…). And my doctor, a biker, said “No biking till I say so!” Spin class was OK, just no road rides. After eight months, he said I was good to go for biking and no longer required my wife’s permission to do anything. |
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What changed his mind? I told him I’d recently taken Facebook off my cell phone. That was the final sign he needed that I was of right mind.
Every anniversary of my crash—I just had my seventh—my wife and I visit the ER doc and exchange hugs, heartfelt glee, and deep appreciation for his work and my outcome. I especially thank him for ignoring the ageism statistics and taking me at my word. At eighty-three, I continue to ride daily, year-round.
About the author:
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Web manager Steve Giordano, past president of the Society of American Travel Writers, is a veteran ski and travel journalist & photographer whose work has appeared in newspapers, magazines, books, radio and television and many places around the Internet. He's written numerous travel books. Steve is the designer and technologist of HighOnAdventure.com and was the online and guidebook editor of SkiSnowboard.com. He is a member of the North American Snowsports Journalists Association and can be reached at rsgiordano@gmail.com. |
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Author as seen by himself |
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Author as seen by others |
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