Incredible!

Ended up getting out into the alpine 14 weekends in a row this season, but finally was rained out this past weekend.  I may be able to sneak in one or two more scramble adventures before laying off for the shoulder season while snow accumulates at elevation, and then it'll be time to strap on aggressive snowshoes for winter trekking at elevation.

Most recent trip was the Sawtooth Slam in the Okanagan National Forest, with 25 miles and 7,700 ft gain over three days, touching the tops of Martin, Switchback and Bigelow along the way.  Was great spending two nights under the stars, visiting spectacular alpine lakes surrounded by Larch in their golden splendor.

For the next several weekends, if the mountains are socked in, then l will get out on the water, either kayaking or sailing depending on wind.

And Scrambling!

So the next test was to leave the trail and do some full-on cross country work.  

The weekend two weeks before Labor Day, I hiked to Ingalls Lake pass and then left the trail and navigated the ridge to Fortune Mountain and then onward to South Ingalls Peak.  Clambering up and down large scree fields, scrambling over and/or around gendarmes and ridge nobs, and wedging ones way up chimneys and through keyholes, has a way of taking ones mind off of how body parts are performing.  And low and behold, they all performed just fine.  

I took it nice and easy on this first non-boot-trail scramble since returning to the Alpine, and thoroughly enjoyed it.  It felt so great getting to my final objective, that I gave a loud whoop to the entire Ingalls basin (with a few return calls from technical climbers on the South Wall of Ingalls proper and on East Ingalls as well).  Not having come up from Ingalls Lake, it took me a while to find the safe way down from South Ingalls, and I had to retreat back up several times when my path led to technical terrain.  

At day's end my feet were tired and sore, but it has always been thus, and by the next day it was just general leg soreness associated with continuing to build endurance.  So another success!

With Fortune and South Ingalls under my belt, I pulled out Summit Routes to find a slam that might work for the three-day Labor Day weekend.  I went with hiking up into Phelps basin to scramble Dumbbell Peak and Greenwood Mountain.  Got a leisurely start on Saturday, leaving home by 7:30am and hitting the trail by 11am.  Made good time to the top of the basin and 2,600 elevation gain with overnight pack and plenty of time to make camp and forage on blueberries until I didn't care to eat another (and I really like blueberries)!

On Sunday, I chose another leisurely start, getting underway by 8am to ensure plenty of time for route-finding and generally allowing for a comfortable, unhurried pace.  Found the gully and the way around the waterfall, made progress to the uppermost scree field without event, and scrambled the tight chimney to the notch and then along the ridgeline to the summit of Dumbbell.  Chose to forego downclimbing the steep chimney and found a descent route to climbers left (skiers right) of the chimney via a series of steep-ish slabs and then traversed back to the starting point below the chimney.  One down and one to go!

Next, I traversed the scree field to the notch leading to that phenominal catwalk around the side of Dumbbell to snowfields and then the base of the broad ridge to the summit of Greenwood.  That catwalk has to be about the most sustained, intense, non-roped exposure with guaranteed catastrophic (unsurvivable) consequences of a mishap I have experienced.  Either that, or I'm just needing to get used to exposure all over again.  An hour to Greenwood summit and an hour back, and the rest of the afternoon was picking my way back down to camp.  Can't stress enough how helpful trekking poles have become when working through scree fields not steep enough to use hands, and where careful balance remains at a premium. 

The plan was to spend Saturday night at camp and walk out Sunday morning, so there was plenty of time for another heavy appetizer of fresh foraged blueberries before miso soup, turkey tetrazzini, hot cocoa and cookies.  I would have slept like a log that night, but the wind came up strong and my tent ---although well secured and pegged --- was flapping around and making all kinds a racket.  Eventually, I got some sleep.

And once again, only end-of-trail foot soreness to report.  I was singing songs along the outbound trail and came upon the trailhead unexpectedly and earlier than planned.  Surprise!  Already done!! Today, the day after, there is only the general aches and pains of muscle building and recovery.  

So at this point, I've got to say I am about as "cured" as one can expect.  There is still --- and always will be --- a "hitch in my giddy-up," so to speak, or in common vernacular, a certain unavoidable stiffness in my gate as a result of all the internal hardware.  Beats the alternative!

Many times over these last several years, I have doubted that I would ever be able to do what I did this last weekend.  That I would ever be able to get out there and hike, scramble, overnight, and go the distance.  It has taken a long time, and a lot of trial and error, to determine the causes and test the fixes for one post-trauma mechanical pain-point symptom after the next.  

After this weekend, I can't help but be confident of being pretty well dialed in and ready to step back onto the path of my climbing journey, still with some catch up to get where I was before this calamitous detour began, but with a reasonable expectation of being able to continue onward. 

Throughout these summer hikes and during the last two weekends of off-trail scrambling, I have been internally chanting, "thank you, thank you, thank you" to doctors, nurses, technicians, and the rest of Harbor View trauma care and the hospital crew, the Anderson House skilled nursing center team, staff at the Ballard Landmark Senior Living Community, my orthotics specialists, master cobbler, family and friends.  And especially I raise my hands and heart in thanks to whatever cosmic power of goodness inhabits our universe and has allowed me to once again experience the wonder and beauty of our natural world.

Back in the Alpine!

Finally back in the alpine this summer, and I have been literally retracing my steps to rebuild conditioning. 

Tomorrow will make the seventh weekend in a row.  I have done Mt. Teneriffe, Mt. Washington, Defiance Peak, Granite Mountain, Kaleetan Peak, and Red Mountain (in the Commonwealth Basin), and tomorrow I will do Mount Dickerman on the Mountain Loop Highway.  By now I have regained sufficient stamina to lead basic climbs with relatively short approaches such as The Tooth, South Early Winter Spire, Kangaroo Temple, the South Face of Ingalls, and the like.  By the end of this winter coming scramble season, I should have attained a conditioning level to climb at a level prior to the fall.  

What has changed, allowing me to get back into the Alpine?  

Where the left ankle joint used to be just flat out painful, for some inexplicable reason it really isn't a bother any more, and there remains plenty enough range of motion for alpine work in trail shoes and sturdy mountaineering boots. There was a period of time when the pain was so distracting after just a couple of miles of walking that I was seriously considering either fusing the ankle (but with zero range of motion) or removing the whole blasted thing and replacing it with a blade.   Thankfully, my affection for the foot and ankle overcame my frustration at the pain, and somewhere along the way, the pain receded to a point where I am doing 14 mile days with 4k elevation gain. 

Also, the left hip used to get really sore because of differing leg lengths as the result of reconstruction after the fall (as well as from the cracked left femur from an intervening bike accident).  Initially, I went with an orthotic insert in the right shoe to equalize leg length, but that didn't quite do the trick because although the orthotic resolved the height difference at the heel, as it tapered to leave room inside of my shoe for my foot, the effective adjustment was next to nothing at the ball of my foot, so when walking I was still pushing off with the ball of my foot on a leg significantly shorter than it should be.  It took way too long to realize that what I really needed was a 3/4" lift added to the full length of all of my right side footwear (including trail shoes and mountaineering boots).  I found a fantastic cobbler with skills in slicing off soles, adding lift material, and gluing everything back together, and voila, I was back to a near-perfect equalization of leg length.  

Strangely, lifting the right foot resulted in a new aggravating pain on the outside of the left foot and on the pad under the base joint of the little toe, and once again, it took way too long to figure out that a new custom orthotic for the left foot --- contoured to give extra room in the painful areas and support in the surrounding areas --- could resolve that pain. 

The most recent "aha!" moment was resolution of unusually fast building callous on the pads under the base joints of both little toes, which made it feel as though I was walking on thumb tacks!  The solution this time was to aggressively grind off the callous using a very rough metal rasp after each bath or shower.  The rasp is so rough that it will tare normal skin, and I grind away on the callouses until I begin to feel something.  Those callouses don't stand a chance!  

It is feeling as though the way is clear for doing distance and elevation gain with increasing pack weight to rebuild muscle and stamina, and the hikes this summer seem to have born this out thus far.  I'm probably carrying an additional five pounds of reconstructive gear in feet, ankles, hip, and back, so I'll need to eliminate most all non-contributing body mass, and at 57 years of age that isn't as easy as it once was, but believe me I am not complaining one iota.

Goals?  Hmmm, . . . before the fall I was working on the top 100 peaks in Washington State.  I suppose there's no harm in continuing along that path, and not making any promises on getting there, but there's zero chance unless I continue to take it just one step at a time.  

Should be fun!

Back on the wall!

Finally, I climbed today for the first time since the fall.  Let's see, . . . from Thursday, June 30th 2016 until Sunday, March 31, 2019, . . . that's two years and nine months off the wall.  Oy Vey!

Well, it would have been "only" two years had it not been for two bike wrecks.  The second and more consequential happened mid December 2018 (previous posting), and I'm just now recovering after being on crutches through the end of January.  The first happened in June 2018, when I landed on a shoulder and blew a rotator cuff; those things take forever to heal.  Knocked a tendon loose and so now I have what the doctors call a "Popeye muscle" with my right bicep unnaturally balled up, which looks pretty goofy but still works.  I was just about ready to re-start climbing in December when the femur fracture occurred.  So I'm thinking maybe spend a little less time on my bike?!

Gotta' say, climbing the outside wall at The Mountaineers Program Center in Magnuson Park (and then rapping down) was more than a little freaky.  I climbed to the top of one of the towers as a volunteer instructor at a Basic Climbing Course rock field trip and I was there for several hours ensuring that once students arrived at the tower top, they safely transitioned from climbing to rappelling.  It was a simple pitch so I climbed fast and tried not to think about it, . . . someone else was belaying me afterall, . . . what could possibly go wrong?!

Chilling at the top of the tower throughout the afternoon was welcome, however, seeing students rap off the top of the tower was harrowing, and I quadruple checked their set ups as soon as they arrived until they were "on rappel!" and off and away.   At the end of the day when it was time to come down, I simply sent that little voice in my head way down deep, set up for rappel and went for it.

Live to climb another day!

Deja Vu

You won't believe this but it seems I just can't get enough of trauma centers!

One fine morning in mid-December, I was commuting to work via bike (as is my wont), moving across non-descript terrain that I've traversed countless times---just another random stretch of asphalt, this one transitioning from a parking lot back onto the Burke Gilman Trail---when lightning struck.

Well, not literally lightening, but that's what it felt like.  In one moment, I'm biking along, minding my own business, just enjoying the morning endorphins, and in the next moment I'm on the ground, bellowing in pain and not enjoying one bit the adrenaline rush resulting from this instantaneous transition.  There's no comparison between the pain level resulting from this fall versus the far more catastrophic fall over two-and-a-half years ago (hmmm, . . . still seems like yesterday).

Once again, I found myself on the ground huffing and puffing, but this time my nervous system did not shut down.  The first and only thing that struck the ground was my left hip---I didn't have time to reach out with a hand or roll into the fall----and man did that hurt!!  After several minutes, I had stabilized enough to become curious whether it was just a really bad bruising event, so I dragged myself over to a car, pulled myself up on my right leg, and then put just an "nth" of weight on the left leg.  Waabaaam!!  There was that eye-watering pain again.  Not good.  What now.

A good Samaritan walking the BG came over to see if I was OK, and they helped me carefully return to the ground.  Sigh, . . . there was no way I was going anywhere, . . . not a chance that I could move the hip without becoming totally unwound, . . .  so my guardian angel called 911 and in no time the paramedics were on-hand and then the ambulance arrived.  These very kind and skilled first responders went through the paces to make certain there wasn't anything life threatening, bound me to a backboard, bundled me into the ambulance, and then (so very cool of them) brought my bike the rest of the way to The Mountaineers (as it was on the way to their dispatch base).

Thankfully this fall occurred within a few minutes of UW Medical Center, and before I knew it I was back in emergency receiving.  An MD came in to check on me, and I'm not imagining this, but he took hold of my left ankle and pulled my leg and asked how it felt.  The rapid change in my coloration told him well enough how it felt and so it was time for x-rays.  By this point in my trauma center experience I am positively glowing with x-rays!  The film showed the hip was OK, but there was a crack in the femur about an inch from the point where it bends toward the hip.

Fast forwarding now, . . . I was admitted on a Friday morning, surged upon on Saturday morning, released on a Tuesday afternoon, and back at work on Thursday.  The surgeons decided that a total hip replacement wasn't called for (removing the end of the femur and replacing it with a new & improved prosthetic) because I am young and healthy enough to recover from the more involved procedure they went with, which involved fastening a plate to the side of the femur with lateral screws and then running a goodly sized longitudinal screw through the plate, bisecting the crack and pulling things together.  It does look really cool on film and is a prized addition to my already impressive collection of internal hardware!

This is tongue in cheek, but I was a little disappointed not to have the hip replacement because during surgery the doctors could have adjusted the length of the left leg by 5/8" or so to match the shortened right leg, . . . so I'll continue to need significant orthotic adjustment to smooth my gate.  Drat.

Post-operative convalescence involved six weeks of non-load bearing on the left leg which meant: crutching everywhere including up and down stairs in and around work and my living situation; dealing with significant discomfort associated with swelling / internal bleeding from the surgery (quad muscles don't appreciate being pried aside to get at the femur); and figuring out how to be at work with my leg raised to manage the inflammation and pain.

Just so happens that I still own a fancy power wheel chair from last go round, and with quick calls to the provider and their very wonderful responsiveness, the chair was tuned up and ready to go with a fresh set of batteries and a loaner control joy-stick replacement unit (the old one was cracked and no longer weather proof).

For the next several weeks I used the power chair at work as I had done before, reclining and keeping the legs up.  Otherwise I carefully crutched around work and home, and as before everything just takes longer.  Thank goodness there is a sit-down shower stall in my living situation; I can't imagine how showers could have safely worked otherwise.  I re-invested in a long grabber device to help pick up dropped things and to get pants legs over my feet, and I also acquired another sock-donning device to assist in getting my feet started into compression socks I still use to control morbid swelling associated with the prior fall.  Bending down to put on socks just wasn't happening for the first couple of weeks!

All good things with time.  After three weeks the discomfort and limited range-of-motion subsided and once again I could bend down to pick things up, put on socks and get trousers started.  I had pretty well mastered crutches in all situations, far more confident, capable and fast up and down stairs.  Friday a week ago the doctors gave me the green light to load-bear again, so I exchanged the crutches for trekking poles, and by the beginning of this week I was down to one pole and forgetting where I left it at work half the time!  This coming week, . . . no more trekking poles.

Since returning to load-bearing I've been walking further each day and spending more time with full range of motion calisthenics which feels great, . . . so reminiscent of last time.  It's amazing how much muscle atrophy occurs in just six weeks!  Quite a bit of rebuilding to do.  I had to cancel an orthotics adjustment appointment for the first week of January after this most recent fall, but now I'm ready to reschedule.  Want to try another 1/8" shimming on the right leg, because my gate isn't quite yet where it needs to be.  We'll see how that goes.

Tomorrow I'll head to the boat!  I have crutched along the dock a couple of times to check on the mooring lines (I figure the marina would call with anything more dire).  No way could I have safely transitioned onto and around the boat with crutches; that would have been shear madness.  The weather is looking fine for a sail and I'll be cautious and conservative. It's been a couple of months since I've been out, so should be nice.  Onward!

Oh, . . . what caused the fall?  My bike and I encountered an invisible patch of leaf slime!  A maintenance crew had just blown leaves off of the section of parking lot I traversed (they were working another section along the way) and uncovered the still damp and unexpectedly slimy and slippery asphalt surface below.  Once on the ground and with my wits collected I ran my hand over the surface and it felt as smooth and slick as black ice, but it wasn't near cold enough for that.  My bike is a simple commuter with slightly wider than normal tires, I was biking slow and steady, and I was making a very gentle left turn when the both wheels slipped to the right and I came down HARD on the left.  Bikers be warned, . . . and ever vigilant for leaf slime!

Family Ties

My folks retired to Houston and lived there for 20+ years before down-sizing, selling their home, and moving to an apartment in St. Petersburg FL to be closer to family support (one of my elder sisters lives there).  

I didn’t mention this earlier, but much of the summer and fall of last year my brothers, sisters, and I helped Mom & Dad prepare to move, . . . deciding what to bring with them (what would fit in their new place), . . . preparing their house for sale after they left (new paint, new carpet, yard work, many minor repairs, and thorough cleaning inside and out), . . . deciding what to do with all the stuff they left behind (of their five children, who wanted what and how to get it to them, with a goodly amount left over for goodwill, and the rest to the dump), . . . and working with the realtor on pricing, open houses, responding to offers, and negotiating the close of the real estate transaction.  

This entailed multiple trips to Houston to meet with movers, the realtor, repair crews, painters / carpet layers, interior / exterior cleaners, gardeners, junk-haulers, etc., and many, many calls to arrange / coordinate times for these folks to be at the home to perform their work.  The air travel and working around their house became another feature of my convalescence, and there were days when my ankles became markedly swollen after being up and about longer than I had been up to this point.  

An elder sister and I spent a long weekend on a herculean effort, moving from room-to-room through the house sorting items between those for family friends & helpers, goodwill, recycling, and junk, . . . and then preparing all items for appropriate movement.  As you can imagine, this was both physically and emotionally draining, as we came across many left behind items that conjured childhood memories, and we had to be judicious about what could be salvaged and passed forward and what we would leave behind forever.

Eventually everything came together as planned, and when the house sold in late August my folks were pleased and it all seemed to have been worth the effort.  None-the-less, Mom had indicated hesitancy about moving from their Houston home.  She had teased---but not really---that she didn’t want to go, . . . wouldn’t go, . . . would stay there at the kitchen breakfast table.  Mom especially enjoyed sitting there reading the newspaper, listening to the news on the radio, and looking out of the large picture window at birds & squirrels visiting the bird feeders Dad hung from tree limbs on the other side of the driveway outside the window.  Dad was hesitant as well, as he enjoyed golfing with his buddies and singing in the church choir.

Both Mom & Dad loved living in their Houston home, and they had made a number of accommodations around the house to address the risks, such as putting in a chairlift on the stairs, installing a day-bed in the downstairs office and installing a shower stall and toilet in the utility room off of the kitchen. Additionally, they had a long-term disability insurance policy that kicked in and paid for an in-home service to provide simple day-to-day care.  

It was a good situation for them, but their kiddos (me and my brothers & sisters) were concerned about their living alone because of the lack of interaction with others, the risks of not having medical response nearby, and the increasing amount of support they would need as their memory capabilities diminished.  Over the years, we had gradually introduced the concept of their downsizing and moving closer to one of us, and eventually they grudgingly acquiesced to our encouragements.

I would discuss downsizing with them using a climbing analogy.  I described the choice to remain in their home as analogous to a technical climbing team who had climbed past their turn-around time and although it was still light out and climbing was enjoyable, it was going to get dark soon, and then climbing would become perilous.  Also, as they aged, I alluded to their gradual loss of rock-climbing capabilities and stamina and hence they would become less resilient in responding to complications and this also increased the risk of experiencing catastrophic consequences of a fall, a broken hip, and then six months of life, tops.  Brothers and sisters spoke to them as well, and one sister invited them to visit a St. Petersburg senior living complex where they ultimately chose to live.

Unfortunately once in Florida, Mom's health rapidly dwindled, and she became progressively weaker as the weeks passed.  She was in the hospital before the Christmas holidays to address a racing heart, and because she had become so weak and fragile, the doctors required she stay for several more days of observation.  Then, the doctors prescribed a follow-on week at a skilled nursing center for physical therapy to improve her strength and ease of movement, and she moved there after the new year.  Mom was increasingly miserable, and I was shocked to receive a call from Dad on January 13th that she had died overnight at the skilled nursing center.  Just the day before an elder brother and I spoke, and we both agreed that although her decline had been increasingly rapid, she had at least several more months if not years.

What the kiddos didn't understand or avoided comprehending, is that our folks were already so fragile that the move to Florida---rather than guarding against a critical incident that would result in a rapid downward spiral in health---actually instigated Mom's rapid descent.  Using the climbing analogy, we implemented a futile rescue attempt.  Mom & Dad were already climbing into sunset, and it was already too late to attempt a rescue.  We didn't realize that while in the midst of moving them from Houston to St. Petersburg they were very close to being benighted, and although they had acquiesced to our efforts, they knew in their hearts that it was too late, that we should just leave them be where they were and allow them to enjoy the last of the sunset as best as possible.  How sorrowful I am at this realization in 20/20 hindsight.     

My elder sister Lynn wrote and arranged for Mom’s obituary to be placed in Houston & Baton Rouge newspapers.  She organized the memorial service, invited all our relatives, rented the venue, hired the caterers, . . . did just about everything.  Elder brother Bob prepared an amazing slide show that ran in the background throughout the gathering.  I acted as master of ceremonies and spoke on my family's behalf.

My father is devastated by the unanticipated loss of his partner of 65+ years, and it’s like half of him is missing.  He is so sad and lonely.  He is miserable.  He regrets.  He would never have agreed to move from their Houston home last summer if he had known the love of his life would be gone in the new year.  He feels guilt for having taken her from the place she loved best, causing turbulence and complications during the last months of her life.  Marie was not happy in St. Petersburg, and Dad feels as though perhaps she just sort of let life go and left him, sneaking out the back door when know one was looking.

Now I see that the climbing analogy I used to encourage them to downsize and move to an apartment was correct, but I gleaned the wrong lessons from it.  True, Mom and Dad had climbed well past their turn-around time, but it had become so late in the day that the only reasonable thing to do was to admit there would be no getting back down safely, and so the only choice was to enjoy the remaining time on the rock, ascending their last summit and becoming benighted up there, but blissfully so.  Instead, we encouraged them to acquiesce to an emergency descent, and so with our prodding they tried to beat a hasty retreat even after it was too late to do so safely, and Mom fell on the way down.  We didn't realize how dangerous it was to change course and retreat when the climb party is frail but in equilibrium.

I flew to St. Petersburg to accompany Dad on his travels to Mom’s memorial service in Houston.  He had been experiencing acute pain in his lower back, and we were able to make an appointment with a Houston specialist who had helped him in the past, and so we stayed after the ceremony for an extra couple of days until the appointment.  We had several very nice days together, and took the opportunity to visit the sight of the memorial service again and the gardens surrounding it.  There was an especially lovely Japanese garden that we very much enjoyed walking through. 

The doctors visit turned out very well, and the flight back to Florida was uneventful, but it was so difficult to leave him alone and grieving in his forlorn and empty apartment.  I suggested that he should reconsider all the decisions that had brought him there.  If they had not moved from Houston, and Mom had passed there in their lovely home, and if he now found himself widowed and alone, what would he do under those circumstances?  Likely, he would move from the Houston home, and so that part was already taken care of.  Perhaps he might still choose Florida as his new home, and if so, then that part was already taken care of as well, and then he would just need to figure out how to carry on without Mom.  But if another alternative now seemed to make more sense, he shouldn’t think twice about asking for help to make another move.

I have suggested that rather than living alone in an apartment, he might also consider moving in with me in Seattle.  At first, he expressed concern about cramping my style, but I made it clear that I was serious and would be honored to have him live with me.  It would be a pleasure to care for him now as he had cared for all of us while we were growing up, and that I would very much welcome having his company.  We'll take our time discussing this alternative.  We want to be certain of what will be the best situation for him, now that Mom is gone.

Family ties have taken precedence over consistency in focus on convalescence, as well they should. 

A Better Reason

The rest of October flew by with me biking to work every day, staying until late and biking home in the dark. 

The Burke Gilman Trail after 10pm is an interesting place.  First of all, in many places the trail is far enough from the road that there is practically zero ambient light, so you bike by the moon & stars and hope for the best.  Second, the trail gets a little wild after dark so there is noticable scurrying in the brush on either side and I imagine the reflection of little critter eyes in the glare of bike head lights flashing by.  Third, oncoming bikes with super-bright lights---intended to “see” rather than “be seen”---are blinding and I whisper casual oaths under my breath as they approach.  A few considerate riders shield their high-beam lights, but most don't bother and I do my best to guess where I am in relation to the side of the path. . . . can’t see a blessed thing.

Then also, people occasionally leave the ubiquitous green and yellow bikes-for-rent sprawled near the path making for difficult-to-perceive and unexpected near-miss obstacles.  Speaking of the ubiquitous green and yellow bikes-for-rent, . . . by day, folks peddle these bikes slow and steady, and us bike commuters can make our way around them all right.  After 10pm however, a few of these bike renters are as well lit as the bikes themselves!  Having emerged from the local pub and unsafe to drive a car these riders feel steady enough to rent a bike.  But I digress.

I have implied the cause of not pushing hard on convalescence has everything to do with being super busy at work, but that is not fully accurate.  Truth is other distractions have arisen on the home front.  This is tuff to talk about.  It is not like falling off a climbing gym wall which is easy to overcome by comparison.  This hurts in a different way.  So very, very sad.

Procrastination

Well, the bright work project certainly was a distraction and it proved how adept I am at procrastination!  By end of August I had layed on seven coats of varnish and decided to call it good enough for this season.  Seven coats will keep the teak protected and so the bright work project is in a safe temporary holding pattern.  Next spring I’ll add an additional four coats and call it good. 

In September and the first two weeks of October---without the excuse of needing to drive so that I could get to the boat after work fresh enough and with enough time to make progress---I have returned to biking to work, and I am really feeling improvement.  I am able ride faster for longer, and I feel less muscle ache during the ride and afterward.  Also, I have discovered several short-cuts from the standard Burke Gilman Bike Trail route that shortens overall distance and eliminates several busy intersections, so there are only one or two spots where I might have to stop.

Also, I have continued working on left ankle range of motion, and it is frustrating how little progress I am making there.  Although I am able to bend it a considerable amount by leaning against a wall (first facing in and leaning far forward and then facing out and leaning far back), without the added pressure the ankle is still very stiff and doesn’t yet bend back and forth of it’s own accord.  

Thankfully, I am sensing gradual improvement in feeling in my left foot.  In addition to pins & needles I am now also feeling internal stinging & itching (which I suppose is a good thing), and now I am able to feel whether the foot has successfully slipped into a slipper when getting up out of bed at night with the light still off, which is more than I could do several months ago. 

The doctors indicated there’s typically a two-year window for repairing nerves and recovering feeling after an injury, so I still have eight more months of potential progress.  It is really important to have good sensation in your feet for technical rock climbing, because you have to be able to feel how well your foot is attached to the a particular placement on the rock (or climbing wall), so I have continued to hold off on climbing until I have better sensations my left foot.

No more procrastinating, . . . time to get back to hiking and the thrice weekly workout routine!

Distractions are OK, as long as they are kinetic.

So, . . . in addition to climbing and getting out into the Alpine, I love getting out on the water, and have owned a wonderful sailing craft for years.  Care & feeding of "Rhythm" is a labor of love, and requires countless hours of just "messing around on a boat." I will be testing my full-body convalescence with a big summer-time boat project requiring bending, stooping, kneeling, and crawling around all while applying significant "elbow grease."

Several weekends ago, with a sharp scraper and heat gun, I began peeling off Rhythm’s exterior varnish.  The ship’s log indicates it has been 10 years since last she was back to bare teak, so this is several years overdue.  Typically, the base varnish coat begins detaching from the wood substrate after seven or eight years depending on climate.  Teak is an oil-saturated wood which, on the one hand, protects it from deterioration due to the elements, but on the other hand, destines brightwork to a decade life-span at best.  It makes sense to “scratch & patch” the first tell-tale failure points, although the repaired areas are lighter in color than the rest.  Eventually after many patch jobs the brightwork looks mottled, and with new areas delaminating in increasing size & frequency, the daunting task of scraping off all the old, sanding to clear wood, and then building up a new varnish system, becomes unavoidable.

Getting to the point where I was ready to apply fresh varnish took over 100 hours of heavy duty sanding, working first with an orbital sander, then a hand block, then free-hand, and finally using small “invented” tools to work in tight corners.  What you see prior to laying on the first coat of varnish is what you’ll live with for the next 10 years, so the prep-work needs to be thorough.  Similar to varnishing, sanding requires multiple passes, first with 80 grit sandpaper (to clear the remaining old varnish and “shape” the wood), then 150 grit (to smooth the 80 grit surface and reveal the wood grain), and finally 220 grit (to increase resolution and beauty of the wood grain leaving a silky smooth surface).  Thinking through the routine now, there are eight unique passes over the wood before it’s ready for the varnish primer coat.

After sanding and detailing, you need to tape off the surrounding surfaces in preparation for applying the varnish primer coat; only professionals lay on varnish without masking tape that catches errant brush strokes, drips, etc.  It will take the rest of the summer to build up enough varnish coats to call it brightwork, . . . at least 220 hours to complete 12 coats @ 7 hrs to varnish and 9 hrs to sand after each new coat, plus un-taping and re-taping after every 3rd or 4th coat. 

Thankfully thus far no setbacks or accidents other than small burns from the heat gun and sanding off my finger prints.  I have had to change the security feature on my mobile phone that reads my fingerprint until they grow back.  Sometime, I’ll tell you about the time (10 years ago) when I picked up the heat gun by the wrong end, . . . now that caused some damage!

It's been a year (tomorrow)!

A close friend emailed me early this week wondering whether the anniversary date is getting close and I realized that yes, it is either June 30^th (this coming Saturday) or tomorrow (the last Thursday in June), . . . right around the corner in either case. 

Thursday morning feels like the more appropriate marker as it aligns with last year’s weekly routine, so I’ll drop by Vertical World tomorrow first thing for a moment of silent reflection and thanks giving.  If you haven't yet, you should visit Vertical World's website sometime to get a sense of their amazing climbing walls.

I have experienced further improvement in walking gate smoothness and speed in the last week or so after starting a very modest course of aspirin in the AM and PM.  I happened to be reading something that indicated aspirin is excellent for reducing inflammation and joint pain, and after restarting with it (and bumping up dosage slightly to AM &PM) I noticed immediate improvement.  My left ankle hasn’t looked this svelte in months, and I can step right through the ankle bend with nary a twinge.  Pretty cool.

Last week I had the last visit with the spine surgery team (one year hence), and they were all "your healed, get out of here!" They still warn that because fewer vertebra are carrying the bending/twisting load there's a likelihood that they will need to fuse the next one down in 10 years or so.  I asked, and they indicated that strong core muscles will slow the degradation, . . . 10-minute abs here I come!

Pain, drugs, and backing off the meds at Anderson House

Before Harbor View could discharge me to a skilled nursing center and free up a bed in their trauma center, I had to be off of intravenous pain meds and stable on oral meds.  This all seemed to be happening pretty quickly and it gave me concern as pain meds were definitely still required to maintain an even strain, but in the last couple days at Harborview I gained confidence meds could be administered effectively orally and leaving Harborview wouldn't result in a major set back.

Looking back on the transition from Harbor View to Anderson House, I can understand how cautious I felt about "change for the worse," but there's no question that Anderson House was a much better place to begin convalescence.  Harbor View is a place to get put back together, . . . not a place to mend over a longer period of time, . . . It's hectic, fast paced and staff are stressed, . . . it's like a war-time mash unit!  Regardless, I still ended up wanting to hang onto "the devil I knew" versus being cast off into the unknown.

In a much earlier post I indicated what a good living environment Anderson House provided for early convalescence.  Peace & quiet, helpful & friendly staff, a large private room, good food, encouraging & resourceful physical & occupational therapists, access to an shaded outdoor patio, . . . overall Anderson House put together an excellent program.  No skilled nursing center can fully meet expectations every minute of every day, but Anderson House came pretty close.

Naturally, there were times (usually around the meal hours) when assistant staff were heavily engaged getting people up and out of bed for meals, and so I needed to adjust expectations to account for these busy times.  On rare occasions, my needs would become unforeseen & urgent (think, I need a bed pan!) and there just wasn't anyone immediately available.  Oh well, . . . suppose there are worse things than dealing with these relatively minor consequences / inconveniences.

Anderson House nurse staff were almost always timely with meds and were uniformly friendly, helpful, compassionate, and looking out for my best interests.  Right off the bat it was apparent they were not as maniacal as Harbor View staff about reducing med levels, as they were not under the gun to discharge folks and free up beds.  We still did the "what's your level of pain" dance, but they were much easier to work with in making adjustments.  They instilled confidence that if we tried reducing meds and it wasn't working we could always readjust.  I was anxious to demonstrate zero dependence on pain meds and so we established plans to reduce first one prescription, then the next, and then the next.  Then we worked through each plan and celebrated being weaned off of each med. 

In retrospect, there were several comical / farcical episodes associated with coming off various drugs (Oxycontin, Dilaudid, and Gabapentin).  I weened from Dilaudid first and without memorable complication.  Although Oxycontin is a great pain med, it can be addictive and it definitely causes constipation.  So on the one hand, I had a choice of maintaining Oxy dosage at the risk of becoming dependent but also at the cost of frequent suppositories, and on the other hand, I could work down the Oxy and transition from suppositories to prunes.  Seems like a no brainer right?!  Yah, but you gotta' be careful about backing off of Oxy or you'll find yourself in a very uncomfortable state.  Looking back, it's comical to reflect on the fact that I initially leaned in favor of continuing suppositories!   There were definitely celebrations by all involved when I zeroed out the Oxy and was able to keep things moving with prunes and coffee!

The last med I was on was Gabapentin, and when I talked to the doctor about it she indicated it "just soothed nerve endings."  So later that day in a moment of hubris, I told the nurse to go ahead and zero out the dosage rather than go through a more gradual reduction regime.  Mistake!  Around bed-time it became apparent what Gabby was doing for me, . . . and what it felt like to go without. Going cold turkey off of Gabby resulted in turning up the thermostat in every square inch of skin to top-bench sauna temps. 

Holy fish cakes & mother of pearl, what an uncomfortable night!  Not "pain" per se, but incredible debilitating/maddening discomfort.  The next morning I had a "conversation" with nurses & doctors about the benefits of more gradually backing off of Gabby, and I didn't take the last pill of it until several weeks later, well after I was discharged from Anderson House and living at The Ballard Landmark assisted living center, the retirement home that housed me while I was still non-weight bearing and refined to either bed-rest or a wheel chair 24/7.

Since leaving the pain meds behind I have been on a daily regime of one aspirin, four Tums, and a drop of vitamin B, . . . the aspirin to keep blood a little thinner than usual to reduce the negligible odds of a blood clot breaking off of ongoing internal repair work going on in my shins/ankles/feet, Tums for calcium bone-building material, and vitamin B as a catalyst to absorb the calcium. 

Seems to be working, . . . the last time I visited the foot orthopedic team they were impressed with the amount of bone generation that has occurred since surgery.  They said I can do just about anything I want other than play basketball and sky dive!

Better living through orthotics

Can't believe I had been trying to walk distance without orthotics!  Wish I had looked into them much sooner; and it just shows what a stubborn cuss I can be.  Walking with and without them is a night and day difference, and at this point I wouldn't imagine going anywhere without them.  Miraculously, they totally smooth my walking gate, and it feels fantastic to be able to walk smoothly versus hitching along. 

The orthotics team made several sets for me, and I keep one set in shoes I leave at work (to save weight and volume in my backpack when biking/commuting) and another set remains at home.  It is easy to swap them in and out of whatever foot gear I am going with.  The orthotics aren't necessary or helpful while biking, and that's the only time I go without them.  The contrast between clumsily walking in non-adjusted bike shoes to & from the bike, compared with gracefully gliding along once on the bike, is poignant.

The jury is still out on the clam-shell brace.  It feels constricting, and it gets warm and, well clammy, inside, and that is something I'll just have to get used to.  Also, where my foot exits the brace there is an unavoidable lip / transition from the brace to my shoe that crosses the bottom section of my foot that is still recovering nerve sensation, and it is causing annoying discomfort after just a little bit of use.  Maybe I can lessen the sensation by adding a cushioning extension / transition.  In any case, I don't think it's going to do the job in it's current configuration.

Finally, the brace works fine when walking on mostly flat terrain or when stepping up onto things like curbs, benches, rocks, stairs, etc., but because the brace restricts so much ankle motion, it is difficult to walk up simple, smooth, inclined grades, and the steeper the grade the more awkward it becomes.  It'd be no problem climbing a boulder field, or kicking steps up a snow slope, but walking up a steep trail may be a bit difficult.  Hmmm.  I'll do more testing.

Fine tuning.

All this biking, physical therapy stretching, calisthenics, stair climbing, and swimming has done wonders for my overall strength.  Still, my walking gate is far from smooth, and as I am learning through visits with the surgeons and orthotics' specialists, this has far more to do with bone & joint mechanics than muscle strength or even range of motion.

Based upon the physical clues mentioned in previous posts, it is clear that my right leg is shorter than my left leg, and my left foot is no longer flat but leans outward.  These two physical-structural-mechanical imbalances have caused a significant hitch in my stride.  It's as though I am walking along a railroad track, stepping up with my left foot on a rail that slants outward, and then stepping back down with my right to the bed of the track.  After observing my walk at a recent visit, the orthopedic surgeons gave me a referral to an orthotics' specialist who I visited last week.

We talked through the physical symptoms, they watched me walk, and they concluded a lift for my right foot and a wedge for outer portion of my left foot should help straighten things out.   Also, we talked about the ankle pain that has limited my walks to no more than six miles and/or two hours.  They suggested creating a custom-built clam-shell fiberglass ankle brace to hold my left ankle mostly motionless while walking, which would mimic fusing the ankle.  The braces straps will hold it firmly to my calf, so it will also transfer some of the impact load of walking from the heel/ankle to the upper calf.  This type of brace will fit inside a mountaineering boot, and fingers crossed, it will allow me to go further & longer.

At the follow-up appointment to create the caste for the brace and take accurate measurements for the lifts, the orthotics team determined my right foot needs a 5/8” heel lift and my left foot needs a 3/8” wedge on the outside edge to level it.  On a whim we measured the length of my feet, and it turns out my left foot has lost one-and-a-half shoe sizes!  Both feet used to be size 11.  Now my right foot is still an 11, but my left foot is a size 9.5. Crrrraaazzzy!! 

This will definitely improve my bragging rights when "comparing scars" with friends.

Gotta' love a bicycle, . . . and swimming pool!

These days I am biking to work just about every day (with a few exceptions) and I am loving it!  My body mechanics // chemistry thrive on cardio workouts, and I am so relieved to have found a ready source of physiological exercise that doesn’t cause debilitating pain in my ankles.  Gliding fast through beautiful outdoor scenery---akin to flying---is an added bonus.

It is interesting how quickly my psychology has shifted from finding rationales for driving to finding rationales for biking.  The same little voice inside that pushes me to achieve the summit of a climbing objective or accomplish one more lap during a workout now coaxes me to jump on the bike rather than strap on a car. 

When I first started biking, if the weather forecast indicated steady rain (with more than a ½ inch accumulation) then I may have reconsidered.  If I needed to stay especially late at The Mountaineers, I may have been tempted to drive instead.  If I needed to go somewhere after work, then shouldn’t I use a car?  Nope; all these impediments to biking are easily overcome.  Rain beads and slips off appropriate clothing.  It is easy to load a bike on the front of a Seattle Metro bus and commute home rather than riding in pitch black along the Burke Gilman Trail.  And usually there’s a decent bike route to any intermediate destination between The Mountaineers and home.

For example, last Friday afternoon after work I planned on commuting to REI in downtown Seattle to attend a conservation presentation about protecting The Methow River Headwaters region from a natural resource extraction project (a large open-pit copper mine).  Bad idea.  Anyway, in thinking through commute logistics, my first inclination was to drive to work, so that I could drive to REI, and afterward drive home to Ballard. 

Then the little voice began nagging, so I checked out Seattle Metro routes and determined I could bike to work, and then take Metro to REI and then home after the presentation.  The little voice continued to nag, so I checked out the bike route and distance between The Mountaineers and REI, and decided to bike the second leg as well, and then I could use Metro to get home.  But then after the presentation was over, there was still plenty of light, and the bike route and distance from REI to home was less than from The Mountaineers to REI, . . . so the little voice kicked in yet again, . . . and I biked home.  Yep, I am a glutton for cardio punishment!

So every weekday I bike to work which is a little more than twenty miles round trip.  Then, each morning, I spend twenty minutes on ankle range-of-motion physical therapy.  I stand next to a wall and lean forward as far as I can with legs straight and feet flat on the floor for 100 seconds, then I lean backward as far as I can for 100 seconds, and I do three reps of these stretches.  Then I do full rotations of my legs & upper body, circling through 360 degrees of ankle extension while keeping my feet flat on the floor.  Then I do knee bends, keeping my heels on the floor and lowering down as far as I can (last week I did full squats for the first time!).  I finish up with 40 toe raises, and finally I stay up on tip toes for 40 more seconds.  Ouch! 

That leaves Saturday & Sunday for my prior exercise routines.  On Saturdays I  do the full calisthenics workout (squats with heavy pack, pushups, and various other arm, core and leg exercises).  If the weather is nice I’ll bike to Golden Gardens beach and use a park picnic table as a workout platform (with an exercise mat for a little cushion comfort).  Working out with views Puget Sound, sunshine & blue skies, and budding spring cherry tree branches above is fantastic! 

On Sunday I do an hour of Golden Gardens Park stair climbing with heavy pack, and then afterward I go for a swim at the Ballard Community pool.  I try to get to the pool early enough to spend time in the hot tub with bubble jets playing on my back (aaahhh!) and my left ankle up and out of the hot water.  At this point I’m not really swimming, but doing what looks much more like an old-guy side-stroke or breast stroke, mostly because I don’t feel ready for full-out swimming just yet.  I do however, keep from touching the side or bottom of the pool for the hour that I swim, and that’s not too bad!

Near misses past & present

Just wanted to share a quick “random” story related to a fantastic scramble of North Twin Sister last April before the fall. 

I had near miss on this trip.  We brought bicycles for the approach up and back down a long forest road.  My front brakes had become inoperable during our drive to the trailhead when they got hung up with another bike on the rack, so I was coming down the forest road with just my back brakes.  They got hot and eventually stopped working (!!) on a long, straight, narrow, steep down-grade.  I was unable to stop or slow down and could not help but accelerate down the road.  I was totally freaking out and thought I was about to be dead (or at least severely injured). 

Literally the only thing that saved me was that at the end of this long straight away was a wider than usual turn with fresh gravel spread liberally across the road. I was going fast at that point, but somehow as a last ditch last chance, I side-slipped and lay the bike down, and came down hard and fast on my leg, hip, fore-arm, elbow, shoulder and head (the bike helmet saved me as well).  I got up cautiously testing for breaks, but found only significant road rash on all parts (and miraculously the bike was on one piece as well)!  The bike was inoperable so I walked it the rest of the way, and thankfully I was close to the trailhead at that point so it didn’t take too long.  I was bleeding in a bunch of places, so when I got back to the cars I put on a coat and bandana so it wasn’t obvious (I was embarrassed about the accident --- and I was OK --- so I chose not worry everybody, . . . it had been such a cool trip and I didn't want to be a downer).      

The week after I got back to Seattle I fixed the front brakes and replaced both sets of brake pads, then did a quick test ride to make sure all systems were “go” before parking the bike in the garage.  It hadn’t been used again until this last weekend, when I rode it from Ballard to The Mountaineers Program Center and back.  I’ve been wanting to expand my workout routine, but needed to prove to myself that I could complete the round trip.  The weekend test ride was successful, so this morning I commuted to the Mountaineers for real and afterward brought the bike into the office (common staff-member practice) for the day.

This afternoon after returning from a meeting, people sitting close to my desk said they were surprised when my bike’s back tire exploded!  While replacing the innertube, I inspected the tire and discovered the tire-wall was worn thin and had finally given way in one place.  “Odd,” thought I, while adding just enough air pressure to ride on the tire from The Mountaineers to Recycled Cycles in Fremont.  I arrived at 6:58pm (they closed at 7pm), bought a new tire & innertube and had them install both on the rear rim.  While the technician was doing the work, we got to talking about how a tire might randomly explode like that, and he said I probably “hit something” or maybe "my back brakes may have been mis-aligned and were rubbing on the tire.” 

Hmmmm, . . . thinking back to when I last used the bike, it finally became obvious what happened.  Can you believe the tire held out for three trips between Ballard and The Mountaineers and finally gave out while sitting motionless by my desk?!  Had it blown this morning while riding at speed, I’d probably be back at Harborview right now!  Turns out that bike back tire saved me twice.

I am so lucky!

Pain, drugs, halucinations, and other facts of life at Harborview's trauma center

I am not an addictive personality, . . . haven't gone through periods of being obsessed by certain foods, music, or people.  From my teenage years through college, I drank socially, occasionally to excess, but never got hooked.  I smoked socially as well when out with friends, and never got hooked.  Thankfully, I hadn't been exposed to lots of heavy-duty medicines throughout my life.  Pretty much just over-the-counter pain meds (Tylenol, Ibuprofen, Asperin) for head-aches and muscle& joint pain.

Then this accident happened.  While at Harborview intensive care and going through numorous surgeries I was medicated intravenously with several strong & potentially addictive pain meds.  Finding the correct dosage seemed to be mostly trial and error.  The nurses and doctors would frequently ask "what is your pain level right now 1 to 10?"  and very soon it became apparent that my pain-level rating was different than most, in that most everyone else reported higher levels than me. 

I had to explain to the nurses & doctors that a “10” for me was so severe that I would use a weapon to end it.  A “9” was excruciating pain with uncontrollable writhing and being strongly tempted to use a weapon.   An “8” was extremely uncomfortable but with an ability to control physical movement, but likely with groaning/grunting/whining.  A “7” was very uncomfortable with control of both physical movement and utterances.  A “6” was uncomfortable and still very much needing pain management.  A “5” was uncomfortable with a preference for using some pain management.  A “4” was annoying and distracting but able to manage without pain management.  A “3” was distracting but manageable without pain management.  A “2” was noticeable.  And a “1” was virtually no pain.

Bottom line is that most people’s “8” is my “5” and so the nurses and doctors tended to under-prescribe pain meds for me.  The good news is I can count on one hand the number of times I was at an “8” (extremely uncomfortable but able to prevent writhing, but with groaning), but the bad news was I found myself in the “6” to “7” range too often.  There were only a couple of instances where I was over dosed on pain meds and had wild dreams and hallucinations.

Getting the right level of meds was often challenging.  Quickly you understand the hourly cycle time for each pain medication and you ensure the nurses are timely in providing the meds.  Most of the time the nurses arrived timely, but because Harborview is a trauma center and my bed was in the burn section there were times when the nurses were busy with more important/urgent activities, and hitting the nurse call button didn’t always result in a visit.  More frustrating was when the call button would slide to a position that I couldn’t reach (recall I was in restricting casts up to my shoulders and was instructed not to attempt to roll or twist to prevent back damage), and I had to wait for someone to walk by the room or drop in to check up on me.  Calling out for help into the void seemed so pathetic!

Also, when the prescription wasn’t working, going through the routine of explaining my pain levels took time, and the nurse would then need to convey the information to the doctors so they could adjust the prescription, and sometimes the doctors would need to come and talk with me in person, going through the same routine as with the nurses before they would change the prescription.

Probably the most frustrating medication problem while at Harborview was when I was prescribed a self-administered pain medication that would be effective for a couple of hours.  Great you say, self-administration means no pain, right?  Yes, that’s true, . . . until bed time and then you get to choose between sleep and staying awake to press the button, because if you don’t hit the button on time then you wake up extremely uncomfortable. 

Gaining an audience with the right set of doctors and convincing them that I wasn’t exaggerating my pain in order to feed a nascent drug habit took a great deal of constant hounding of the nurses to ensure the doctors would show up, and then a high degree of persistence in stating my case.  Even then the doctors were extremely reluctant to adjust dosages, and as a result, while at Harborview I never slept through the night, choosing to stay awake to ensure the proper doses of pain meds occurred on time.

What does one do to stay awake in a trauma center hospital bed in the middle of the night?  My sister gifted me a small portable Sony MP3 player, but because of the state of my hands it was too small to hold and the buttons were too small to manipulate, and I couldn’t reach my ears to press in the ear buds in any case.  She also purchased a Samsung tablet for me but I couldn’t keep it balanced at the right angle to see the screen and the on-screen buttons were too difficult to manipulate.  Another sister gifted me an Amazon Echo device“Alexa,” but it was such a new concept and I didn’t have the emotional/psychological resolve to have someone open the box and help me figure out how to set it up and use it.  Finally, there was no way I could use a notebook PC keyboard because my arms were fixed in place with casts.  All that left me was TV late night movies, . . . really bad TV late night movies, . . . and for that to work I had to have the TV remote taped to one hand so that I could reach it and adjust the channel and volume with the other.  Miserable!

About the only thing that allowed me to remain reasonably lucid while at Harborview was taking naps during the day while Marijane & Marie visited (they could rouse me just long enough to hit the pain med button), and when nothing else was going on like the never-ending series of x-rays, doctor & nurse visits, and other interactions with hospital staff.

I'll share one "G" rated (and yet bazaar) hallucination.  Coming out of a particularly deep anesthetization after yet another surgery, I was unable to rouse myself more than being aware of a completely blank white state/place.  Nothing. Zip.  Eventually I found I could barely move within the space, and so I very gradually crawled along until I arrived at a corner/edge where boundaries converged.  Sigh.  Can't go forward, . . . don't want to go back, . . . so I tried harder to discern anything other than blank white.  Looking very carefully, I noticed a slight variance in the blank white space closest to where the boundaries converged.  Looking closer still, I discerned small movements.  At this microscopic level I saw incredibly tiny "things" manipulating space/time to create something other than blank white.  I sat their transfixed as these things very gradually created just the tiniest beginnings of a reality.  It became apparent that these tiny things manipulated space/time in order to create entire realities that we experience.  I realized that scads of these tiny things do nothing other than constantly adjust space/time to seamlessy "stream" our reality.  As I continued to watch and comprehend, I learned that these things "specialized" in their space/time manipulations, . . . a gazillion of them combining their efforts to create the reality of one of the door knobs where you live, . . . and only that.  It goes on, but you get the picture.

More on de-escalating pain meds and consequences there of another time.

Fewer miles + More elevation (on stairs) = JOY!

Turns out that it is not necessarily walking time that is causing excessive joint pain but mileage. 

The longest walks (two laps around Green Lake at 5.8 miles with no elevation gain in two hours) are the most painful.  Long walks (four laps on the NE 74^th St Hill at 5.0 miles with 1,200 ft of elevation gain in two hours) are plenty painful.  Over the last couple of weeks my level of frustration and disappointment has been building because I've not been making further progress, with joint pain holding me back.  After these walks, I'm hobbled the rest of the day and much of the day after.  I've been dejected enough to begin contemplating punting on this whole rehab thing. 

Then, yesterday I returned to an old workout haunt, Golden Gardens Park, to climb the steps from the beach to the top of the stairs at the corner of NW 85^th St & 32^nd Ave NW.  I went four laps up & down for 2.8 miles (less miles) and 1,000 ft of elevation gain (similar) in two hours (the same amount of time), and it felt very good compared with walks of greater distance.

Rather than walking the longer trail I used for workouts before the accident, I stayed on the super long set of stairs leading a more direct and steeper path to the top, but as steps are easier for me to navigate at this point than a slanted trail, this ascent route felt much better.   Comparing yesterday’s workout with what I used to accomplish on the Golden Gardens Hill I am half as fast with less than half the pack weight.  Before, I was doing four laps per hour with a 50-pound pack for three hours, so a total of 12 laps, nine miles and +3,000 ft elevation gain.  Yesterday I did two laps per hour with a 15-pound pack for two hours, so a total of four laps, 2.8 miles and 1,000 ft elevation gain!   

The good news is that I purposefully took easy yesterday and because the joint pain wasn’t too bad, I anticipate being able to increase speed and pack weight over time.

After yesterday's workout I walked out on Golden Gardens Beach to the shoreline for the first time since the accident and enjoyed a fantastic view of a very high tide and calm winds making the Puget Sound look like a glassy smooth bathtub filled to overflowing.  It was just after sunset and the Olympic Range was clear on the horizon with a few clouds hovering over the peaks.  It was a perfect setting to be overwhelmed with thankfulness for the workout, my good fortune, and the beauty of the world, filling my heart as full as the Sound.  Quite often an interesting thing happens when I send up fervent thanks; I often sense a clear response encouraging me to get over the thankfulness (already) and to get busy living a life worthy of the good fortune that I’ve been allowed.  All right, all right, I respond, . . . just saying thanks!

Twice the distance (half the fun)

In the last two weeks I have increased my walking workouts (chart & graphs below):

   * distance from 3.2 miles to 5.6 miles
   * elevation gain from 150 ft to 1,200 ft (yes!)
   * time from 68 mintues to 124 minutes
   * pack weight from 5 lbs to 12 lbs

Yesterday, I found out what two laps around Green Lake feels like.  Four weeks prior, I had been very proud of accomplishing a single lap and I wanted to attempt twice the distance and set a new personal best.

Green Lake is a beautiful place to walk, especially in the late afternoon with golden light streaming over Phinney Ridge.  There are usually many other people there running, walking, skating, and biking so plenty of distraction and motivation.  If you time it right, you are done with your workout and can sit & recover while watching a spectacular sunset.

One downside of the Green Lake walk is there's no shortcut back to the starting point.  Once you commit to going about half-way around you have no choice but finish, . . . well I suppose you could call for an Uber, but get real.  My prior personal best was 5 miles (which was pretty tender), and just two weeks ago the farthest I'd gone was 3.2 miles, so although up for the challenge, I felt trepidation about the last mile of the Green Lake loop.

And for good reason!  Although I completed two laps in a little under two hours I was definitely not enjoying the sensations emanating from my feet, ankles and shins for the last 20 minutes.  Groan! Prior to the accident, I'd become inured to aches & pains associated scaling Pacific Northwest Peaks, and my misery index was calibrated higher than most.  It is a struggle to rebuild this capability, and whoever suggested I'd bounce back quickly needs to be set straight.   

Rebuilding the endurance of muscles throughout my lower appendages is flat out grueling, and after these workouts I wonder whether I'll meet the goals I've set and whether I'll ever again be on an alpine trail with heavy pack.  Patience I tell myself; one step at a time.  Regardless of these doubts, you can see in the charts below that I remain ahead of planned incremental improvements in distance, time, elevation, and pack weight.

It's time for a follow-up appointment with the Harborview Orthodpedic team and I'll be interested in hearing the doctors' responses to several questions about my convalescence:

1.  Am I pushing too hard?  When I described my walking routine to the scheduling nurse she indicated very few people do anything like that so soon after such extensive surgery, and that I should let my ability to manage pain & swelling guide frequency, distance, time, elevation, etc.

2.  Is my left leg longer than my right?  Given the amount of reconstruction the surgeons did on both ankles & shins it wouldn't surprise me if one leg ended up a different length than the other.  The doctors had one shot at this, and separate teams were working on each foot, so no telling how well they coordinated on finished leg length!  I sense that my left leg is a little longer, because when walking along a path with a slight cross-path slant my gate is much smoother when my left leg is on the "downhill" side of the path.  It could be that because I have less feeling in my left foot/ankle/shin (and less range of motion) I favor it (walking a little club footed) and that may accentuate the effect of the slight path slant.

3.  Is my left shin bowed?  Especially when wearing shoes, it appears as though that shin comes away from the ankle at a slight outward angle compared with the other foot.  It's like my left foot is attached a little off center (toward the inside of my stance).  It's less noticeable without shoes.  Have I caused this as a result of my walking routine?!

4.  Should I upgrade the compression in my compression socks?  Thankfully the doctors prescribed light compression socks to start with (which are difficult enough to get on by myself), but now I'm wondering whether "medium" or "stiff" compression might improve recovery after walks and reduce swelling.

Chart & graphs on my walking record thus far: