Mad Doggy Dog
Well-Known Member
April 13, 2005
So I am lying on the Nevada desert ground with a makeshift splint around my right leg. I am in a lot of pain. The ground is rough, sharp, and dusty. I hear the unmistakable sound of a Bell Huey helicopter approaching. Thank god they sent a helo otherwise this would have been a long and brutal jeep ride. Besides, I have never been in a chopper before. Cool!
How did I get into this situation? Let me back up.......
I was working a 4 day trip with a long Las Vegas layover. I told my captain I was planning on renting a mountain bike and riding in the mountains 15 miles west of the city. He thought that sounded like fun and wanted to go along.....this would be his first mountain bike ride ever.
We rode some easy to intermediate trails from the village of Blue Diamond, NV. It was a stellar day to ride. Sunny, dry, temps in the 80's, nice breeze. The scenery was fantastic. Desert flowers, Joshua trees, colorful mountains.
We had been out in the desert for about 3 hours and were only a mile from the end of our ride when I wiped out. My tires lost traction and I began falling to the right. I unclipped my feet from the binding pedals and dabbed my right foot to break my fall. That’s when I felt a snap. I knew I had broken my leg before I even hit the dirt. I wasn't doing anything crazy and I was on an easy section of trail. Oh well, #### happens.
My captain was a former Marine fighter pilot so he had extensive survival training. I always carry a first aid kit whenever I ride plus plenty of provisions like tools, food, and water. The captain suppresses his fear of rattlesnakes and scours the desert for wood. He finds some small boards in a nearby junk pile, (people like to litter in the desert.) Using my belt and some of the bandanas I carry, he splints my leg. Then he makes a signal flag using my yellow jacket so that the rescue party will have an easier time spoting us.. Meanwhile I pop some pain killers from my first aid kit and call 911 on my cell phone. “Well captain,” I said, “the bike lesson is over…..don’t do what I just did.”
The 911 operator had no idea where I was despite the directions I gave her relative to parks, roads and towns. (There are a lot of clueless people in Vegas I am beginning to realize.) One would think a requirement for being a 911 operator would be familiarity with the local area. Perhaps lat/longs would work. I had a copy of a topographic trail map the bike store had given me but it only showed latitude, not longitude. So I called the bike store and told the manager where I was and what had happened. He was familiar with my position and was able to do a better job dispatching help. He called the town sheriff, also an avid mountain biker, and within 45 minutes help had arrived.
The chopper pilot did a great job landing on sloped desert terrain considering the gusty winds and thermals. The EMT’s doped me up with morphine, put me on a stretcher, and loaded me up. This was just like a scene out of a Vietnam movie. We took off to out of the desert and they deposited me at a nearby ambulance waiting on the highway. Off to the hospital we went. My first ambulance ride too.
So now I am lying in the hospital recovering from surgery. They had to put some titanium rods, plates and bolts in my lower right leg. Just call me Frankenstein. I should be fully recovered in a few months.
….Then I can go mountain biking again!
If you don’t occasionally end up in the ER,
you aren’t having fun!
Follow Up July 8th, 2005
Did you know that bodily trauma is great way to lose weight? Well it is! I lost 25 lbs two months after my accident. I went from 205 to 180. But I put 15 pounds back on…..hey its all muscle, right? Pull-ups are easier now!
So I enjoyed a 5 day stay at the hospital in Vegas. Fortunately, this is the only place where you do not hear the constant dinging and beeping of gambling machines.
What have we learned? Morphine leads to a hangover which makes one barf. Percoset makes one tired, dizzy and stupid. Tramadol, less so. Weaning oneself of pain killers causes insomnia. Too many idiots still live in Las Vegas….more on that later.
The first month I was out of commission totally. Laying-on-the-couch out of commission. Yuk. I hate TV now. OK, not really.
The second month I was on crutches and wearing a support brace….and driving electric scooters in the grocery store and mall and yelling out “TIMMY” whenever I caught people staring at me, (Only fans of TV’s South Park understand why that’s funny.)
Ended up missing 8 months of work. Thankfully had contractual disability benefits and ALPA sponsored optional insurance cover me for a full salary during that time.
On the day I passed my re-qual check ride, I went went mountain biking again that afternoon!
Mountain bikers creed: Glory lives forever - Chicks dig scars!
.
So I am lying on the Nevada desert ground with a makeshift splint around my right leg. I am in a lot of pain. The ground is rough, sharp, and dusty. I hear the unmistakable sound of a Bell Huey helicopter approaching. Thank god they sent a helo otherwise this would have been a long and brutal jeep ride. Besides, I have never been in a chopper before. Cool!
How did I get into this situation? Let me back up.......
I was working a 4 day trip with a long Las Vegas layover. I told my captain I was planning on renting a mountain bike and riding in the mountains 15 miles west of the city. He thought that sounded like fun and wanted to go along.....this would be his first mountain bike ride ever.
We rode some easy to intermediate trails from the village of Blue Diamond, NV. It was a stellar day to ride. Sunny, dry, temps in the 80's, nice breeze. The scenery was fantastic. Desert flowers, Joshua trees, colorful mountains.
We had been out in the desert for about 3 hours and were only a mile from the end of our ride when I wiped out. My tires lost traction and I began falling to the right. I unclipped my feet from the binding pedals and dabbed my right foot to break my fall. That’s when I felt a snap. I knew I had broken my leg before I even hit the dirt. I wasn't doing anything crazy and I was on an easy section of trail. Oh well, #### happens.
My captain was a former Marine fighter pilot so he had extensive survival training. I always carry a first aid kit whenever I ride plus plenty of provisions like tools, food, and water. The captain suppresses his fear of rattlesnakes and scours the desert for wood. He finds some small boards in a nearby junk pile, (people like to litter in the desert.) Using my belt and some of the bandanas I carry, he splints my leg. Then he makes a signal flag using my yellow jacket so that the rescue party will have an easier time spoting us.. Meanwhile I pop some pain killers from my first aid kit and call 911 on my cell phone. “Well captain,” I said, “the bike lesson is over…..don’t do what I just did.”
The 911 operator had no idea where I was despite the directions I gave her relative to parks, roads and towns. (There are a lot of clueless people in Vegas I am beginning to realize.) One would think a requirement for being a 911 operator would be familiarity with the local area. Perhaps lat/longs would work. I had a copy of a topographic trail map the bike store had given me but it only showed latitude, not longitude. So I called the bike store and told the manager where I was and what had happened. He was familiar with my position and was able to do a better job dispatching help. He called the town sheriff, also an avid mountain biker, and within 45 minutes help had arrived.
The chopper pilot did a great job landing on sloped desert terrain considering the gusty winds and thermals. The EMT’s doped me up with morphine, put me on a stretcher, and loaded me up. This was just like a scene out of a Vietnam movie. We took off to out of the desert and they deposited me at a nearby ambulance waiting on the highway. Off to the hospital we went. My first ambulance ride too.
So now I am lying in the hospital recovering from surgery. They had to put some titanium rods, plates and bolts in my lower right leg. Just call me Frankenstein. I should be fully recovered in a few months.
….Then I can go mountain biking again!
If you don’t occasionally end up in the ER,
you aren’t having fun!
Follow Up July 8th, 2005
Did you know that bodily trauma is great way to lose weight? Well it is! I lost 25 lbs two months after my accident. I went from 205 to 180. But I put 15 pounds back on…..hey its all muscle, right? Pull-ups are easier now!
So I enjoyed a 5 day stay at the hospital in Vegas. Fortunately, this is the only place where you do not hear the constant dinging and beeping of gambling machines.
What have we learned? Morphine leads to a hangover which makes one barf. Percoset makes one tired, dizzy and stupid. Tramadol, less so. Weaning oneself of pain killers causes insomnia. Too many idiots still live in Las Vegas….more on that later.
The first month I was out of commission totally. Laying-on-the-couch out of commission. Yuk. I hate TV now. OK, not really.
The second month I was on crutches and wearing a support brace….and driving electric scooters in the grocery store and mall and yelling out “TIMMY” whenever I caught people staring at me, (Only fans of TV’s South Park understand why that’s funny.)
Ended up missing 8 months of work. Thankfully had contractual disability benefits and ALPA sponsored optional insurance cover me for a full salary during that time.
On the day I passed my re-qual check ride, I went went mountain biking again that afternoon!
Mountain bikers creed: Glory lives forever - Chicks dig scars!
.
