Introduction
On 8/26/2016, I wrote the first article on this topic. It's titled "I'm Still Alive – Why?" That was the 71st article published on this website. This one is my 200th. Intermixed in the 129 articles between that one and this one, I have commented on various aspects of my ongoing “bionic” journey. The 3/21/2021 article with the short title “My 'Bionic' Excuse” included three x-rays. If you haven't seen those “pretty pictures,” feel free to look, only if you are not too squeamish.
This article summarizes the main details of my “bionic” journey, adding a few new items along the way. The purpose is not simply to “tell my 'bionic' story.” I have a friend, a brother in Christ, whom I have not yet met in person. He is in the early stages of his ongoing recovery. His malady is different than my multi-trauma, as they call it. The stages of ongoing recovery, however, are and will be similar. I want to inspire my friend and brother in Christ. His recovery may be quicker than mine. Mine is ongoing and may continue for about five years or more.
I hope that readers in general are inspired as well. Never give up! It is step by step and day by day.
My recovery is in stages. Concluding remarks move from temporal to everlasting.
Stage One (3/29/2016 – 5/4/2016; 36 days in two hospitals)
The following is a segment from my unfinished and unpublished book, “Light at the End of the Tunnel.” I wrote it on 8/24/2016, very early in my ongoing recovery.
On 3/29/2016, Tuesday, life as I had known it ended. I was driving home from the office. An 18-year-old female with no auto insurance, income, or resources failed to yield to my right of way. She turned left, directly into the left front quarter panel of my truck. My ’95 Nissan truck died. I almost did. After 36 days in two hospitals, I came home on 5/4/2016 to continue the multiple weeks of recovery and physical therapy. My upper left arm, right knee, and right foot have a combined 25 metal pins and screws in them. My brain managed to slosh back into place fully. My left eye recovered fully. My job was held open for when I would be able to return from my “sabbatical.” Despite a still swollen foot and ankle and a stiff knee, I can walk with a limp, even without a crutch, for a short distance.
On 8/24/2016, I am writing again. It is my attempt to overcome the absolute boredom of staying indoors, still without a truck to drive, even if my damaged right foot would allow me.
I did not know that I was alive when the surgeon repaired my shoulder and knee. My brain had “sloshed back into place” in time for me to speak with him, before he repaired my right foot. That was on Wednesday, April 13. He knew that I hiked. He said, “You will hike again. It may not be until the fall.” From his words, I speculated my full and complete recovery later that year, five years ago. I was wrong. I am still recovering.
I was at the University of Tennessee Medical Center from March 29 to April 19, 21 days. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman, bless her heart, was with me daily, even when my brain was still sloshing and I didn't know anything. Family, friends, and neighbors visited. I don't remember some of the visits. I almost died twice due to the concussion, as my wife told me. After about ten days, I started to realize that I was alive and that I was in a deep, dark hole. I started to think about how I could get out of that hole. I am on the upper edge of that hole now. I am still trying to climb out fully.
I remember limited physical therapy. My right leg and foot were immobilized completely. The wheelchair and my wife got me around. I couldn't read or watch television unless I wore a patch over my left eye. Otherwise, I was seeing double. The ice cream, on the outside deck, on whichever floor, was good! I was outside, at least, with my wife pushing me around in the wheelchair and buying the ice cream.
April 19th was my transition by ambulance to Patricia Neal Rehabilitation Center. It is part of the Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center. I remember the fifteen days there much better. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman continued by my side, wheeling me around in the wheelchair and so forth. It was “fun.” Do not eat a full bag of chocolate-covered peanuts! You will pay for it later on the portable commode! No worries! I could wipe my backside with my right hand, not my left. My wife had the “fun” of flushing the mess down in the hospital room commode.
In late April, I think that my wife took the above photograph of my right leg at Patricia Neal Rehabilitation Center. Those hospital beds are not comfortable. I slept, or tried to do so, on the bed. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman slept, or tried to do so, on the bed beside me. I had a private room. Near bedtime, the nurse finally stopped asking me if I needed a pain pill. No! Give me two Tylenol pills. I'll sleep. I did, well enough. I don't know what pain medicine they pumped into me in the early days when I was trying not to die. When I became aware of reality, I refused all pain pills! I wanted to feel the painful damage to know how to get out of that dark hole.
Several times a day, except Sundays, I had what I call “brain” therapy, physical therapy, and occupational therapy. My wife had to wheelchair me, using an elevator, to the location each time. Several good therapists were there. I remember Heather by her first name. She was the best. Saturdays involved a lighter schedule. I was glad. I was always trying to endure. I had a bench seat shower once a week! I got to the point where the nurse didn't need to see my private areas! I could get into and out of the shower alone. Well, my wife helped some with my private areas; bless her heart. She had seen them before.
“Brain” therapy included mental games to find out how well my brain was recovering. They were easy, but I fatigued quickly, as my brain was still recovering. I moved my left hand in circles on a table. My left hand picked up toy items to stack as a child would do. I don't know why they wanted me to play cornhole. I couldn't toss with my dominate and busted up left arm. I had to use my right. When I was allowed to start trying to bend my right knee, I tried to turn the pedals on a stationary bicycle with my right leg. I couldn't do it. There were other aspects of the therapy. I remember them all. My concussed brain was working correctly.
As in Star Wars, “May the 4th be with you!” On May 4th, my 15 days at Patricia Neal Rehabilitation Center were done. I could manage to transition from wheelchair to our 2008 Honda Civic, passenger side, with painful effort, trying to move my right leg, from knee down, forward enough to fit inside the car. The seat was back as far as it could go. I was home. It felt good. I was inside. I could see Molly, our “old puppy,” through the windows. Family, friends, and neighbors started to visit at times.
Stage Two (48 Outpatient Physical Therapy Sessions)
The wheelchair, portable commode, shower bench, and other items also came home. The portable commode stayed near me in the living room. I could transition from the couch to the wheelchair and from there to the portable commode, using my good left leg. My right leg looked like a toothpick. My left shoulder looked pushed in and down. I didn't have a left pectoral muscle.
If you don't or can't use muscle, it will be gone in two weeks. You have to rebuild it all. I did. Now, my right leg has the same size and power as my left leg. My shoulders are even. My left pectoral muscle has been back for years. Neck muscles on my left side look the same as those on my right. It has taken time and effort, day by day. I was finally able to have my wife begin taking me to our chiropractor. He kept my frame aligned. We still see our chiropractor every four weeks for what I call tuneups. My frame, bones, are in alignment. The soft tissue still needs to improve.
The best “fun” of being home, before I could manage to shower using the shower bench with my wife's help in the hall bathroom, was when my wife gave me a weekly sponge bath in the kitchen. Warm water can turn cold quickly, even in the summer! I endured. My wife endured. Thanks, dear!
On 5/3/2016, the day before my discharge home, my wife helped me arrange a temporary wheelchair ramp, set up from the driveway to the front porch. After I came home the next day, the ramp was installed. I never photographed the entire ramp. It was temporary.
The following is a “pretty” picture of my right leg. I was on the couch. You can see various temporary devices in the image. I took the photograph on 6/6/2016. The “100 lb.” knee brace, as I called it, was off. I still have it. I still have the boot for my foot. They are souvenirs.
At some point after 5/4/2016, I had the “joy” of three sixteen-session rounds of outpatient physical therapy. Mrs. Appalachian Irishman drove me to and from each one. Let's see. Three times sixteen is forty-eight, right? I thought so.
The location was at the Orthopaedic Center, near the University of Tennessee Medical Center. My wife tried to miss the rough spots on the roads, while driving to and from the center. My right foot and knee felt every one of them. My wife would have to trap Molly in her basement condominium temporarily, while she got me to and from the house and car, using that ramp. We had several rainy weather instances that were “fun.” After a while, she didn't need to trap Molly temporarily! I could see Molly outside briefly! I had managed, over time, to get from the wheelchair to the rolling walker! Eventually, with my wife nearby, I could use the rolling walker to go up and down the ramp.
I took my first “baby steps,” three in all, on 6/16/2016. I've written about that before. You can find the details in archived articles. My maternal grandmother, Granny Wood, was born on 6/16/1901.
The efforts -- from using a wheelchair to using a rolling walker to needing a walking stick to needing no assistive device -- were not fun. I can endure pain. There were times that, almost cursing, I had to tell a therapist, “Stop! I'm done!” I couldn't move my shoulder, knee, or foot, whichever was the target of work at the time, any further in any direction. After many attempts, I could finally get the stationary bicycle to turn a full circle with my right leg!
I set up my own home physical therapy schedule. I've written about it before. They wanted my home routine to be done three times for 30 minutes each day. I knew that I could do more. The trips to and from outpatient therapy were usually on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I set my home schedule to five hours daily. Each hour started at 9 AM, 11 AM, 1 PM, 3 PM, and 5 PM. I skipped the 1 PM and 3 PM schedules on outpatient therapy days. Usually, I followed my schedule all seven days of the week. Sometimes, I had to take a weekend or at least a Sunday off. At times, when I was “feeling my oats,” I added an extra hour at 7 PM!
The outpatient therapy was not fun. I endured. My wife knows the details as well as I do. By the way, never say to me, “Suck it up, buttercup!” I heard that a couple of times during therapy. I educated those, who said that to me. They learned. I endured. Remember, as I phrase it, “No gain; no pain!” If you want to gain something, take the pain.
Stage Three (“Normal” Life Returning)
Papaw Ferrell passed away on 11/21/1970. On Monday, 11/21/2016, I drove the car to and from the location to check out my soon-to-be new, old truck, a 2006 Nissan Frontier. Thanksgiving was on 11/24/2016. Mom was born on Thanksgiving, 11/24/1932. The next day, I drove our car with my wife along. We got my new-to-me truck! You may have seen his photograph many times in previous articles. He loves to have his picture taken!
Pearl Harbor Day, Wednesday, 12/7/2016, was my first trip in my new truck to and from the homeplace. It had been a while. The homeplace was, and is still, surviving well enough.
My first day back to work after my “sabbatical” was on Monday, 12/19/2016. For the first two weeks, I worked only on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Afterward, I resumed a normal Monday-through-Friday routine. I started back to work too soon. I realized it later. I endured it. We needed my paychecks. My wife's income was barely meeting monthly expenses, with maybe a bit extra for retirement. In 2003, I had budgeted our construction-to-permanent home mortgage that way, trying to think ahead. My income had to kick in to bridge the gap.
The only financial “help” that we had was (a) the insurance settlement for my '95 Nissan that had died and (b) the months of paid leave that my job had accumulated. My health insurance provider and our automobile insurance company asked me to let them know, if I ever get money from the “turnip” that tried to kill me on 3/29/2016. Both companies tried and failed. I didn't care. I was focused on trying to survive!
It was a winter day on Thursday, 12/22/2016. Meteorological winter starts on December 1. Astronomical winter started that year on December 21. On that Thursday, I hiked House Mountain on the loop trails, at least. That was my 137th hike and my first “bionic” hike. I missed my surgeon's prediction only by one day, going by the start of astronomical winter! As I have written, “A man has to start somewhere.”
On Saturday, 1/28/2017, my new truck and I hauled off to the dump the temporary ramp! By myself, as I wanted to do, I ripped apart and broke up that ramp! It took more than one day.
The above photograph shows the final load that my truck and I hauled off on that day. It was a psychological victory!
On Sunday afternoon, 12/3/2017, I hiked House Mountain. It was my 141st hike and my fifth “bionic” hike. I happened to meet my friend, Dr. Antonov. We had hiked together several times, and I had met him on the trails many times before. My hiking log includes the details. I might publish that log eventually. This was our first time to meet, since I became a “bionic” man. We talked. I told him about my “fun” so far. He examined me on the ridge. I remember the exact location. He has a doctorate in nuclear physics. He has self-educated doctorates in many other fields, including medicine. After he listened to me, asked questions, and examined me, he stated, “It will take you ten years, before you do not notice much, if any, difference.” That was his way of telling me that my ten-year recovery was well underway. I hope that it takes only ten years.
Dr. Antonov was right. Various medical folks have speculated on many things. I was told that I would never serve a tennis ball over my head again. I have been able to do that for a long time. I continue slowly but steadily day by day. I have had to go backward temporarily to go forward more times than I can count.
Stage Four (Life, “Such As It Is,” Continues)
If you read my articles from 8/29/2016 to today, you will notice that life, “such as it is,” continues. I'm still standing here. I ain't breathing hard!
The soft tissue (i.e., muscles, ligaments, and tendons) is still a work in progress. Each “bionic” joint still feels the difference. I do not feel pain, unless I've reached the point that pain is my “new normal.” No, it's not pain. It's tightness only now. Each right footstep feels different. At times, I have taken steps when both feet felt the same. I like those rare moments!
Today marks the halfway point in my ten-year recovery. I hope that Dr. Antonov was right. I think that he was. I should know. I am in my own body. The step-by-step and day-by-day process continues.
I do not concern myself with the mundane details of my temporal life. I write about “polyticks” and other temporal topics. I, however, place temporal life in the everlasting perspective. My sarcastic humor helps.
Each morning, I still do various stretches before getting out of bed. I have been taking hot and cold showers for so long that I don't remember when I started. I have taken a year of deep-tissue massage therapy. I have tried all the various creams and ointments. I have inquired about other types of therapy but have found no interest. I even tried the “marijuana” sublingual liquid. All it did was give me the munchies! That didn't last long. I know what I have endured. There are many other details. My wife knows them.
Hey! I need to get House Mountain hike 178 done! It will be a future hike. Let's hike! I do not back down. I endure. I'm that stubborn as long as I have life in my body.
Conclusion
On 11/3/2016, I started writing “Punctuated Providence.” It may be an addendum to my book, “Light at the End of the Tunnel,” once I publish it. One segment reads:
God, however, will allow disease, sorrow, calamity, injury, and death to occur in our lives whenever, at the most inappropriate times. My years after our return from Russia demonstrate that. My current situation demonstrates that. In providence, God may protect us from all that, or he may allow it to come and come in waves. We want to know why he acts providentially at times and why he does not at times. He does not tell us. He may tell us in heaven. We may “cuss and fuss.” We may lose the zeal of what once was a strong faith. We may give up. I have done these.
The bottom line is that I am still saved by God’s grace through my faith. My faith, punctured by pain, is not what it once was. God is not as close as he once was. Why has he allowed so much tragedy, since we came back from Russia? He only knows. I do not. He will not tell me why. I just trust that he has his reasons. Whatever. Blah, blah, blah ....
This article today is relatively trivial, folks! When I publish the book, my “bionic” life will be a side note only. “Light at the End of the Tunnel” goes back to events that started on Tuesday, 12/28/1999. They involve my godly mother. Since then, my “five scars” are healing. They have been emotional, relational, spiritual, theological, and occupational scars.
The damage that I sustained on 3/29/2016 was trivial. My emotional damage is nominal. My relational damage is relative. (Slight pun intended.) My spiritual and theological statuses have improved. My occupational life endures until I can retire.
I am ready to go home to everlasting life. I did not take that journey on 3/29/2016. I will take it eventually. I am ready to go home!
Are you ready? If not, you are welcome to comment or email me. Using the “Contact Form” will email me. Otherwise, don't concern yourself too much with temporal aggravations (e.g., work, “polyticks,” economics, etc.). Focus on God, family, and friends.
I need to publish this article. An article with more photographs may follow in a few days. Y'all keep turnin' right and goin' straight out there! Email me, if you would like to start a conversation. I'm standing by. I gave up that wheelchair long ago!
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