Reeling

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel... but I don't know if it's the way out or a train heading straight for me.

This pretty much sums up how I am feeling right now. The last 3 days have been like a bad dream that I can't wake up from. It started on Sunday. Dan woke up at 2:30 to be on the bike by 3 AM. We were forcasted to be 118 on Sunday, and he wanted to be running before 10 am to beat the heat. I started my ride at 5 am and was just getting ready to step into the shower when the phone rang. Breathing heavily, Dan said you need to pick me up, gave me his location, told me he was going to pass out and hung up. It was shortly after 9 am. Compared to what we are normally out in during a long ride, it wasn't too hot yet, but I thought he was bonking. I grabbed some ice water and ran out the door. When I found him, he was laying on the side of the road with two men standing over him. One was an EMT. He pulled back Dan's jersey and showed me the bone poking into the skin at an odd angle. Oh my God. I inhaled sharply.

At that moment the world started spinning out of control and everything became survival mode. I tossed his bike in the back of the car. The EMT said, right now he seems most concerned about Hawaii? Looking at me with confusion on his face. I know, I said, this is devestating. We carefully loaded Dan into the car and took off toward the closest ER. They wheeled him inside on a guerney and I stopped briefly to fill out paperwork. By the time I got back to his room they had IV fluids going and were ready to start pain meds and xrays. He had 2 injections of demerol and 1 injection of morphine, none of which seemed to help with the pain. The morphine at least made him groggy enough to get a sling on his arm. I was trying to hold it together but was not doing a good job. Why couldn't it have been me? The thought plagued me. I would gladly trade places with him. I reached my goal of qualifying for Boston and still have 9 months before the race. Kona is in 13 weeks. Why couldn't it have been me?

I called a friend, Marc, for moral support. He had separated his shoulder a year ago in a similar accident. He talked me down from the ledge and assured me everything would be OK. I had tried to keep a positive outlook, but hearing Marc say that he had no doubt that Dan would race in Kona made it seem possible. He gave me a phone number of an orthopedist to call and gave me some tips on how to keep Dan most comfortable (sleeping upright, lots of pain meds). Leaving the ER that day, we were both in a fog. Dan, because of the morphine and me, because what the hell am I supposed to do now? I have never been injured and I thought, he's broken... fix him. I had no expectation of taking him home from the hospital still broken. Apparently this is common. I was overwhelmed. It was so hard to see him in pain and I didn't sleep a wink the first night fearing I would move and jostle the bed, sending him into horrifying pain.

So what now? We are on a roller coaster of emotions. Dan is mostly experiencing pain, disappointment, fear, and frustration. Until 2 weeks after surgery, he can't do anything. This alone is killing him. Then there is the strict time schedule to make sure he can do Kona. If all goes well, the doctor feels he will be fine to compete. For me, the hardest part is watching him be in pain... physical and emotional. I know I will have to be a drill sargeant, making sure he is following doctor's orders. He will want to go to far, too soon and it's my job to make sure he doesn't screw up the recovery process and set himself back further. He's probably going to be mad at me and fight me... but deep down he knows I'm here to help him. We both want him healthy on October 10th.

48 hours from now he will be recovering from surgery. For now, we have to just breathe.