Starting Over - Part TWO

A dear athlete friend highly recommended a hip specialist who's also an Iron Man athlete. It's important to me, to go to a doc who's intimately familiar with my type of sports injury.

Within two xrays, he immediately re-diagnosed my pubic bones had snapped in two on the ride side, and my pelvis was fractured. And although i had not gone off the crutches, he officially put me back on them for another 4-6 weeks. 

So here i am, on crutches just finishing week 6. Since i have never broken a bone before, I can't tell where i am on my schedule.  For the past few days, I've left the crutches at the door, and have been able to move around the house, using various furniture bits to support me. But any sort of distance, ie walking from my car to my office, or even walking the long distance to the office bathroom, requires crutches.

What a pain they are..can't carry anything, and the rash under my arm pits is getting worse every day.

Then the worst week of my life happened.

On week 4 of my recovery, I recieved the dreaded phone call that my dad's health was failing fast.  I packed the night before and left in the morning.  I live three hours away.

Those three hours were pure agony.  The next phone call was even worse. Dad had coded while i was on the road. While they were able to bring back his pulse, he never regained conciousness.  I was able to hold his cold hand, and tell him i love him, and say goodbye, but i never got to look into those washed out blue eyes and have him say it back. Then i witnessed him code again. 

My confidant, my mentor, my best friend, my father had died while i looked on.  A more devistated feeling i've never had. The crushing blow to all of us filled the room.  An emotion none of use had ever felt poured from everyone there. This included very close family friends who held us in their arms to comfort not only us, but themselves.

Yet, despite my complete sadness, i found comfort in the fact that my dad, who was 89, and who's body was gradually chipped away by age and life, was finally free. Free to run, dance, laugh without losing his breath, play with his brothers and long lost friends and my little brother, whom had only made it one day in this world.

The days that followed were agonizingly clear. I've dreaded this time my whole life, and had no idea how I could handle it.  I do know this..family is more important than ever.  WE held each other, and cried on each other's shoulder.  When one couldn't take it anymore, the other's would take over.  Then Mike, my best friend and partner in life, appeared and brought me solace and hope. He brings me hope for a future i never imagined, and I hope in my heart that my dear father, could find some peace in this.

But some things make me angry. The fact that i wrecked my stupid bike and could not visit him on schedule like i had planned, just one last time.  That when he passed, i didnt see the soul rise up, or feel a warm hug of him around me. Nor did i see doves fly by the window, or did i get a sign in the night sky of the stars, or did a cloud formation send me a signal he was up there and watching. Nothing.

It was pointed out to me, that in my grief, i was not open to such things. But i wonder, if in death, as in life, somethings are just more subtle.

When life would deal me a bad blow, i'd try to convince myself that I alone, do not know the big picture. That i must take faith in the fact, that while what appears to me immediatly is brutal or cruel, it might be in my best interest.  I can't see any benefit to losing my dad, but i do find comfort that he's not in any pain anymore.  And that gives me peace.

Now, I am week 6.  I am lucky to have brother's and sisters handeling details that I am unable to do myself.  There is also comfort in that, albiet maybe not fair to them. So i will do whatever I can to support them, and my surviving mother.

No one said Life was fair, and i know it's not. But damn. In the middle of all this, I get a jury summons.  REally dallas? Could your timing, and your stupid cycling detours, not be any WORSE? You kinda suck dallas.

The other notion i have discovered, is humor helps.  I know this about myself. I've always been a jokster, like my father before me, whom loved a good, off color joke more than anyone. But finding humor in the worst situations is my coping method. I can't get on my bike and ride my frustration and sadness away.  I can't disappear into run, or escape into a dive.  I am stuck in this body, in this sitatuaion, with reality hitting me hard in the face.

So, i crack humor about situations. Also, an episode of Jackass tears me out of any sorrow i've allowed myself to fall into.  Something about a guy getting a double stack whack or a sack getting a speedbag, is hilarious.  LIfe doesn't seem so bad for a few minutes.

I've now gone through the worst 3 weeks of my life. I am still here. Mike stands by my side. My two little boy cats, who create havoc at all opportunties, and i swear are pan-dimensional beings, and my family and friends surround me.  I am surrounded my love and hope..

Now onto Part Three..my recovery