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Robert Eugene (Bob) Beckwith
Wednesday morning was a perfect June 10th. The Grandkids and their mountain bikes were at the house.
Green peas were ready for picking. The offer was simple: 4 quarters for a soup bowl of peas. Thirty minutes or so and Kace, Holly, Olivia were 4 quarters richer; persistent lot. Capitalism was blossoming in the pea patch. The peas were packed to the deck to a water soak and then the Ford 350 was packed with bicycles and snacks to last a couple of days. We loaded up for the BMX Park not far away.
Bikes were unloaded and riders of all talents and ages started around and around, up and down and over jumps and bumps. Kate watch from the sideline. I was pedaling along just fine. As I started on lap two I started yelling to Kace, Holly and Olivia, “Don’t get too close to each other”. They were listening and paying attention. Designers built the track so that a good rider with enough skill and energy could gallop his/her bicycle around the track without pedaling. Lacking both of these qualities I would pedal up one side and coast down the other. Young riders were encouraged to “pedal-pedal-pedal”!!!
On the fourth lap I was moving off of the track, everyone was listening to my sage advice except me. I pulled up behind Holly. My front tire ticked her rear tire and I went down. It wasn’t the first time I flew through a bicycle handle bars. It was the first time that when I landed there was nowhere for crash energy to dissipate. I rolled over my head and landed on my ribs against one of the bumps. Stopped!!! No roll, no skidding-just stopped. I wasn’t knocked out, but I also couldn’t get up. I just needed to lie in dirt and cheat grass for a minute.
Kate and grandkids raced over to help. Another mountain biker got me to a spectator’s bench a few feet away. Kate called friend Phil Drick who showed up with his pickup. While this was happening Grandkids informed me that the helmet was cracked clear across. I was loaded into Phil’s truck and he drove me to St. Al. E.R. room. Everything hurt.
I was rolled into an exam room. I.V. drugs made life easier. X-ray results and daughter Kate arrived almost the same time. The Doc wasn’t wearing a happy face when she said, “We got to ship you downtown, your ribs are broken and you are going to the trauma team.”
Two guys arrived to say they were team transport. They reminded me of High School students just given the keys to the family car. My request to drive was denied. I rode in the back with the guy who is going to get married next summer in Stanley. Sage advice was offered against July wedding because guests won’t be able to find places to stay unless they start 6 month in advance. Because this turned to a business trip, could it be a tax write off??
I was unloaded and met the cheerful team trauma. Doc Morgan led the charge supported by another doc and this WAMI student. I had to ask her if she knew the Dr. Barinaga. (Dr. B was a junior High Student at Cambridge in 80’s) “Yea, she said, she’s the one who interviewed me for the program.” “You must be good to get past her,” I remember saying. And all the while Doc Morgan is trying to figure out what happened and so I shared the news (I later thought that wonder drugs can make you sort of chatty). After more x-rays and tests I was wheeled to my residence 8 floors up at 7:00P.M.
The nurse made me comfortable, the IV stuff helped more. Care was a 24 hours deal. Sleeping through the night not allowed. Blood pressure, temperature, heart rate data had to be gathered every three hours or less. Data supported notion of life. IV doses came either on my button push or just with nurse with drugs in hand.
P.T. showed up to teach me that I could walk and climb stairs. OT made sure I could touch my toes and put on socks. The food guy stopped in for lunch, dinner, and breakfast requests. If you were undecided or didn’t have a wish, quiche breakfast was the fill in. I let that happen once.
Day Nurses and night nurses are different. Matt was the day nurse for three days. Comparison to others around him didn’t produce much logical thought so I finally had to ask. “So Matt what did you do before you became a nurse?” “I was a logger”, he responded. Logger to nursing is an intriguing career shift.
Nurse Ratchet was on the night shift. A good place for her. She flew in the door full of energy and enthusiasm; the blond bomb. The energy and enthusiasm was inversely proportional to time spent on the shift. I was bed tethered by chest suction tube put in prior to her arrival. I couldn’t reach the bathroom door. Trying to be discrete about my needs was only confusing. When I said, “I need to make my bladder gladder”, her face responded as if sucking on a juicy lemon- When repeating myself left the face of an imploded carved pumpkin- I finally had to say that I had to pee. Then the work began because the bathroom stuff had to be brought to bedside and time was required which diminished time for filling out paper work. Nurse Ratchet’s life would have been good if she just didn’t have patients to deal with.
Gary replaced Matt. “How did you hurt yourself” he asked. “I was at the BMX Park with the grandkids.” “Wow,” says he, “that’s where I did mine too;” finally a soul mate to relate too. “I crashed on one of the jumps, broke two ribs and my collar bone.” It had happened last fall and Gary had healed up. He had to show me that his collar bones that hadn’t healed straight; wreck trophy?!. There was going to be post wreck life after all. And I asked him if he has gone back, “Oh sure”, he said. This good news will be shared when folks wonder why I’m going back. I won’t be getting close to other bikers. And I won’t be following Kace. He seems happiest when his bike is off the ground or on one tire. I’m happiest when I just pedal-pedal. Searching for sage advice I asked Gary about recovery. “How soon can I start to walk a mile or two?” “Your legs aren’t attached to your ribs” was all he said.
I was to leave the hospital on the second day and they found that the right lung had collapsed a little. I was sent to team tube insertion. They shaved only part of the area leaving the rest to experience a waxing when bandages where to come off. I should have reminded the team they weren’t working with pubic hair. The star wars machine above my chest showed tube insertion and lung inflation on 3’X4’ monitor.
Gary got me out. He hustled the paper work through. I was going to leave with tube in place. “Not a worry,” says he. “The tube is sutured in place, it’s not coming out.”
Home is so much better than a hospital room. And no one showed up for bedside checks-awhhhh!!
Nurse Marcia and Holly took over where rest left off. The bar of care was raised considerably. The treatment could be addicting. Home a day and Nurse Marcia notices that the chest tube has pulled free. When and how it came out remains unknown. At the E.R. the tube has been officially “removed” and the Doc said job was easier as tube was already out.
The hope that I would be better in 24 hours has come and gone. It will take some time. I’m trying all the tricks I can find. I have been using self hypnosis for body relaxing to allow things to heal. When in Viet Nam I worked the same shift as Nurse Ratchet, 7:00 P.M. to 7:00 A.M. I wanted to be up during the night. Off at 7:00 A.M. met thumbing a ride to the beach for surfing and back to barracks to sleep in the heat of the day. The self hypnosis was the trick to fall asleep in one owns sweat. No T.V. helps keep the focus.
Now I explore how to heal broken ribs. I used the latest medical resources: Google, I learn that healing ribs and bar-b-cuing ribs are different. One piece of advice was to eat ½ fresh pineapple a day. The reason hasn’t become clear, but wondering if the National Pineapple Association is in partnership with National BMX Parks. They just might be working together. Doctor friends will have to help me sort this conundrum for truth or consequences? Also any advice from you will be welcomed with open arms. Friend and fellow River Guide, Dean Snell, dropped by and thought best cure was a bottle of Jack Daniels. Dean has always been right before.
Last Friday’s check up and X ray showed no sign of pneumothorax. Now just the rest of me needs to heal.
To the future, Nurses Marcia and Holly continue to provide day and night care. Yesterday (Tuesday, 16th) Kace Robert walked me about the cul-de-sac and down the street and back. With luck I will be back in the saddle before the end of July. Rafting Hell’s Canyon at end of July probably won’t happen, maybe I can ride?
On the mend again. This morning I did a 2.5 mile loop so starting easy.
More fun to come.
Bob
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He is considered to be the "father" of the Port. This picture shows him when he was an Assemblyman (right in the picture) when Governor Pat Brown signed the Port legislation.
