The first missing blog entry...

  Bucaramanga, Colombia
Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Hello everyone,
Well, it has been extremely hard for me this past week both psychologically and physically. I must admit that the whole ordeal so far has been the most difficult experience I have ever been through and that it has made me think and re-prioritize a lot of things in my life and I am continuing to do so as I feel better and better... That said, I feel comfortable enough today to relive the events from my accident to today with you all in order to fill in the gaps in this blog and hopefully avoid having to repeat the story in its entirety over and over again once I get back home (no offense, but it was hard enough living through it once and yet again via this blog entry).

On the morning of Friday February 8th, the whole gang of Albertans, Michel, Richi and myself left early to fly the Chicomocha Cayon yet again on our way to a historic colonial town called Barichara. Michel and I both managed to get a full breakfast thanks to our hostesses and everything was peachy. We were a little tired from having returned a little late the night before however. Once at the Canyon, I felt a lot more comfortable and less intimidated since I had successfully flown the site before. Everyone but Michel started getting their equipment ready and performing their pre-flight checks all the while keeping an eye on the wind conditions. Michel and I did spot what seemed to be a regular back wind cycle (wind coming from the opposite direction we launch in), but we concluded that it must be the huge pumping thermal activity around us which was producing the effect since the regular wind had not yet switched to create a rotor as it was too early for that. However, Michel decided on a gut feeling that he would not fly this site today and told Richi he was too tired and it didn't feel right. I found I was a touch tired, but was confident in my flying abilities, so I finished my pre-flight check and proceeded to move to launch first since others were not yet done. Richi took out an improvised wind sock which I watched carefully and waited for a nice smooth incoming wind cycle. I inflated my wing perfectly, kited it a bit, turned around and ran down the launch and took off to what seemed to be a perfect launch. Then, hell broke loose within a matter of seconds: the right part of my wing collapsed (deflated) by surprise by a huge 80% of my wing surface. I tried to compensate by weight shifting left and pumping my right break to re-inflate it and it eventually it did re-inflate, but I had dropped altitude below the launch and was back to the 90 degree canyon wall. I then prepared to fly straight out into the canyon, away from this turbulence when moments later, the left side of my wing collapsed by another woping 80%. This time, I didn't have time to compensate because somehow, I was now heading head on straight into the canyon wall. All I really remember from then is desperately trying to weight-shift my body so that I would not hit the canyon wall head-on, but rather on my back or side protective layers of my harness in order to avoid dying to breaking nearly every bone in my body. The next thing I remember is my wing getting caught in some tiny bushes above the canyon wall and me slamming my back-side into the wall and then total silence and lack of movement. I also felt a sharp pain in my back as it happened, but was surprised to find myself haning below a tiny ledge suspended in mid-air 2000 meters above the canyon floor. The first thing I did was look up to see how secure I was and after noticing that my wing was caught in a tiny cactus and some bushes and that I wasn't dropping down anymore, I tried to move my legs to see if I was paralysed... I COULD MOVE THEM! All was not lost. Now, I started yelling as loud as I could to let everyone know I was still alive. Soon after, my colleagues started yelling back and I eventually, they Peter spotted me from the left side of the launch. I wasn't too far away, but was quite low into the canyon. The pain was constant and combined with the heat emanating from the canyon walls and floor, the uncertainty of the solidity of the anchoring of my wing in a tiny cactus which was leaking sap down onto me and the uncertainty of how long or if my colleagues could manage to get me out had me quite worried and swearing at everyone to get me out as soon as possible. In my mind's eye, I was suspended there like that for 3 hours trying not to move so that the cactus wouldn't let go and keeping one hand on my reserve parachute as a backup if it ever did. Thankfully, Michel, Bob, Dale, Chris, Richi and some local Colombian construction workers managed to call an ambulance, get some rope down to me to secure around my harness and eventually pull me up. I am eternally greatful to have had such a great team of people working together to literally save my life. The whole rescue took many attempts as no one could see below the cliff where I was and a few attempts snagged the rope's wooden branch lead into my wing and had them pulling on my only means of survival there. When I was finally pulled up, I was greeted by a friendly Colombian hand and pulled over the cliff with my harness still on. Richi eventually came down and helped them get me out of my harness and I somehow managed to half-walk the small slope to the flatter part of the hilltop and collapse on my back, then side. Chris, a chiropacter, and Michel, a pathologist, were both the first medics on the scene and performed a quick survey of my back pain. Something was up with my spine for sure. Eventually, the ambulance got there and strapped me onto this straight slate of wood and carried me into the ambulance. I quickly asked Michel to accompany me and Richi to fetch my wallet, passport, medical and credit cards from my harness pocket before leaving.

I was in constant pain and the ambulance attendees did not inspire too much confidence in me as they tried to fiddle around with the oxygen levels they were giving me. I could barely breathe it was so hot. We eventually asked where we were going and were told we were going to a small clinic 30 minutes away. I don't know if Michel asked for something more professional sounding or if my own facial expression communicated my will for something a little bigger since my life and mobility were involved, but the ambulance driver eventually decided to drive and hour back to the main clinic (private hospital) in Bucaramanga instead... It was the most painful experience in my life and I ended up holding myself down on the wooden slate as the ambulance bounced around, up and down the winding mountain roads. All I could see was the sky swirling round and round via the ambulance's skylight. On top of the pain, I was dehydrating due to the lack of air conditioning and everyone refused to give me water in case an emergency surgury was required when we got to the hospital. Michel finally did manage to negociate a few drops of water on my tongue. Thanks to Michel's watchful eye, constant encouragement and my will to live, I bit the bullet and accepted that an hour of intense pain was a small price to pay to be alive and out of that canyon!

Me in the VIP Waiting Room without the board

Eventually, we got to the Foscal clinic and I was wisked away into the emergency room. I should note that this is my first ever hospitalization experience... There, a swat team of nurses and doctors surrounded me and asked me some basic questions in broken English and Spanish. They then proceeded to strip off my pants and cut up my shirt, do some tests and then left me there with a drip to rehydrate me for a half hour or so on my board + bed combination. Later on, I was moved with Michel into the "VIP Waiting Room" which was filled with a bunch of other sick people waiting for treatment. Michel and I satyed there for hours as paperwork was being filled and X-Rays ordered. Eventually, we were

Michel by my side

informed that the X-Rays had been cancelled due to the clinic not being able to contact my insurance company. We then pleaded to pay with my credit card and so the X-Rays were back on the menu and I was wisked away for some X-Rays.

Spinal column x-ray close-up 3

We spent the next few hours waiting on my board for a diagnosis and talking to my insurance company by cell phone to get the coverage started (it was the only phone we could use to make long distance calls) and a neurosurgeon finally came back to explain that I had fractured my third vertebrae and that a CAT scan was necessary to discover whether or not my fracture was stable or unstable (burst). A stable fracture meant no surgery while an unstable fracture meant major spinal surgery and all of the risks that entails (including all the mobility and senses I still had then). Some more hours later, a cancelled CAT scan for the same insurance-reasons as before, flashing my credit card some more and we finally had a CAT scan performed. Many more hours later and the final diagnosis was in and the images were so conclusive that I could clearly see the problems: I had the worst case, an unstable fracture, AND something new; my spinal cord was compressed by a detached piece of my verterbrae.

CAT scan page 1 close-up 2

The situation was grim, but the doctor was confident. So, many more failed communications between my insurance company and the clinic lead to me flashing my credit card again to pay a deposit on the surgery in order to get it done ASAP! I was actually talking to the insurance company at this point, stressing my pain since the clinic refused to give me any pain killers without being covered by any insurance policy. I had to pee real bad, but all I was offered was a piss-pot and I didn't feel comfortable peeing in front of a room full of strangers. While waiting, we met a kind single mom with her little girl who spoke perfect English and talked a lot about this and that. Michel finally left me there after having spent more than 12 hours with me in the "VIP Waiting Room" and agreed to come back tomorrow after the surgery. I was informed that I would also be moved up to a private room at some point later on... Those hours were the most painful in my life, combined with the stress of dealing with my insurance company and being in a foreign hospital with my limited working Spanish. However, they were somewhat mitigated by that friendly woman who even managed to fetch and feed me soup and a cold drink since I was starving by then. After hours of pleading with the head nurse at the room, I was finally given regular doses of morphine to kill the pain and just hours before being moved up to a private room, a curtain was installed around me so I could finally relieve myself with some dignity. Eventually, either Saturday night or early Sunday morning, I was moved to a private room where I could buzz for a swarm of nurses to come for anything I needed. They kept me under constant surveillance and I had regular morphine drips by then. My neurosurgeon suddenly popped up at some point, explained the whole operation (cutting in from the side because of my crushed spinal cord canal, removing the broken verterbrae and inserting a titanium stabilizer with a piece of bone growth) and its risks in English (4-6 hour operation with possibility of complications, death or paralysis) and I was taken down to the surgury theater. There, I was greeted by a friendly general surgeon who explained how I would be operated on (the incision) and an anestheseologist who explained how I would be put to sleep. I looked all around for signs of mould or uncleanlyness, but was rather surprised by the bright white spaceship-like feel of the room and equipment. They also had some really nice relaxation CD playing. I felt safe and in good hands. So, a gas mask was put on my face and I was told to breeth in deeply... I don't even remember passing out or being in the intensive care unit. But, I do remember waking up 8 hours later in my private room with a huge gash in my left side...

General incision from the side

I was eventually greeted by my neurosurgeon and he explained that the operation took longer because it was so delicate and that I had required a blood transfusion because I had bled a lot. Michel would later inform me that he had been denied accesss to the ICU because the friendly woman we met in the waiting room had beaten him to me and there was a one person visitor's limit.

Titanium vertabrae stabilizer and bone growth