You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here

Since its been decided, not by me of course, that this years 4th of July family party will be over at my house, I figured this is as good as time as any to show you my new home. I won’t bore you with the frustrating process of home building; all I can say is that in the future, I will think twice before I have another house built.It has now been 4 months since we moved in and I still don’t truly feel “moved in.” This is partly because 2 weeks after the movers dropped off our stuff, my appendix ruptured and then a month and 4 days after that I broke my leg. Yeah…hasn’t been the greatest year when it comes to pain.

Nevertheless, I love the home. Though stairs have proven to be a bit of a challenge as you can see from my pervious post, the house is everything that I have wanted it to be.

However with the party being at my new house this year, I am finding myself having some reservations about the whole family party thing (I think anxiety is a better word). I guess the problem is my house just isn’t kid friendly. Not to mention the kids that are coming over are absolute terrors. I’ve fought against Nicaraguan Rebels more tame than these kids. Now it’s not that I don’t like kids, when properly medicated I think that can be great. It’s just that the kids in question are a bit on the rowdy side. So as the 4th approaches I can only cross my fingers and hope for the best knowing all too well that their behavior is well beyond my control.

Stairway to Heaven

When I was deciding on how and were I wanted to build my house, a broken leg never crossed my mind. I thought that it would be great to have a master bedroom upstairs away from the rest of the house. I now look back on this decision with much gloom. Over the past 7 weeks I have learned to loath these stairs that I have built, every single one of them. Between the basement, main floor and upstairs, there are 45 long arduous steps. Sadly, unless I want to sleep in my office, there is no getting around them. I am currently employing the hop method, whereas I hold on to the railing and jump stair to stair. I have found this far superior in both time saved and humility gained, to the well known butt scoot method first used after the accident. In time I am sure the accends and descents will become easier, however for now I will continue to bitch and curse my decision for building a house with 4 flights of stairs.

Slow Train Coming

Today marks 6 weeks since I broke my leg and what a long 6 weeks it’s been. As you can see from the x-ray, my leg is still very broken; however there is improvement from the last x-ray. My Dr said that I have another 4 weeks in the hard cast (though looking at this latest x-ray, I have a belief it will be longer than that) and another 6-8 weeks in a walking cast.

As time slowly ticks away I believe that I am starting to come to terms with how bad my break really was. When I was in the hospital no one really prepared me for the task that lay ahead. Maybe it was the large amounts of Morphine or possibly me just trying to think optimistically, but they lead me to believe that after 6 weeks in a cast they would take it off and I would be back to normal. From what I am told now, there my never be a “normal.” No one really tells you about the pain that you will go through, even weeks after the accident or the helplessness you feel trying to get around and do once simple tasks. Anytime I go anywhere my route needs to be planned out like that of the Presidential motorcade. I’m a patient man, that’s what enduring 8 months in an Iraqi prison camp will do to you, but these last 6 weeks have really seemed longer than usual.

Don’t read this as me being negative. Trust me, I’m doing my best to stay positive, but at times it’s hard when you stare down a calendar only to realize you have another 10-12 weeks.

Reluctantly Crouched At The Starting Line

So this starts what will hopefully be a long list of posts in regards to my VW Class 11 Baja project. For those of you not familiar with Desert/Baja Racing, Class 11 means racing Stock VW Beetles. Now I’m sure to most, racing over 500 miles in the desert is a stock Volkswagen doesn’t sounds all that fun, but I figure since I lack the funds and talent for anything larger or faster, it’s as good as place as any to start.

The picture I have posted is what I am hoping my end result will be. I’m currently in negotiations with the owner of a rusted out 1969 Beetle and a builder to help me with the project (soon to be Father-in-Law). Since I have limited funds and even more limited skills in rebuilding a VW, this just might be another perfect storm and lands me back in the hospital. Well, I’ve already met my deductible for the year, so might as well take advantage of it.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

It doesn’t take an Orthopedic Surgeon to tell that both of those bones in the picture are broken…and yes, those are my bones, from my right leg to be exact.

Now I wish that I could say I was doing something spectacular when this accident happen, maybe rescuing the elderly from a fire at a rest home or evacuating US Diplomats from a US Embassy under siege. No, it was another all too common ATV accident.

On May 9th I decided to take my ATV out to 5 Mile Pass to scout some new trails. I went alone…yes; I know it was a mistake. Long story short, after an hour or so of riding I came to rut in the tail and ended up taking it at a wrong angle, slipping off the bike and ending up with a compound (meaning the bones were sticking out of the skin) break in both the Tibia and the Fibia. Under normal circumstances this break and the ensuing loss of blood would be a challenge, however I found myself about 25 miles from help and alone in the Utah desert. Never have I ever felt so alone.

I will save the dramatics of my ride back for another post one day, but I will say that I have never felt so much pain and come so close to having Shock take over in my life. However painful, I did make it back to help and eventually to the hospital and then into surgery. I spent 4 nights in the hospital and now I am home, helpless hobbling around the house.