My daughter is in the Canary Islands right now as an exchange student. I send you a PM and an e-mail. I sent her cell phone number and e-mail. Have your wife call her also. E-mail me back with your name and particulars. John Shuck, Westport, CT
And I thought Dakar riders were tough!?! Hell, they're bullet proof!!! Great stuff- and great to know you're back home safe and sound and away from Nurse Ratchett!
Fantastic, gripping, horrifying... :eek1 May I print up the main chapters to share with some other friends not on this board? -M
Nuts-- We'll all tell you that you're a better person for this--better you than us! I. Am. Riveted. :huh This is unreal...
Ok Ok I'm working on it. If the mods want to move this to ride reports I don't care. It was on helluva ride. Would have been easier to stay in the race.
This is definately a side of the Dakar you don't hear about. Good to know you're still around and well enough to tell us about it.
Consider this a mini installment or more appropriately a flash back. A damned scarry one at that. Remember when the nurse was strolling around supposedly doing rounds? I had her attention about the foot issue and not knowing when the opporutnity might present itself again I asked if I could have some water. Hmmmm, lesssee.... cervesas, nono that's beer probably not going to happen, de l'eau, nono that's water in French, hold on little lady I'll get it, vin nono that's wine, merde, no that's shit in French, aqua, aquaman oooohhhh close, I'm getting close, Damnit I thought all these romance languages were supposed to be the same, uhhh say it like agua. That's it!!! Agua. I was so excited whipping my bad Spanish on her like that. No response, I know I said it right. Hmmm majic word...please ....with a big smile. Nothing. Ok work it. You can figure this out. Porfavor? Yeah thats' it!! Agua Porfavor. I was so proud. Non non she says. Si Si says I. Non Non. Well why the hell not?? She points at the IV. Yeah I know but I'm severly parched. I have only had a couple of sips from my camelbak since about 1 yesterday afternoon. Agua with a big smile. She points to my hip. Yeah, I won't poor it on my hip and promise not to spill it. I need to drink it. She manages to get out the word "SURGERY" Yes, I know they took care of that just awhile ago. She shakes her head no. It is beginning to dawn on me that on the big board by the nurses table that I saw on the way in they must have me down for surgery. No fluids before surgery because you kack it up. That much I know. Uh Oh. This is somewhat disconcerting if not down right causing panic. Now listen here senorita. There has been no cutting, there will be no cutting and is there someone else here I can talk to? I show her that my hip is mostly back where it should be and we haggle for a bit. Haggle without any hope of understanding more than water. She leaves.....never to be seen again. I slept with one eye open the rest of the night. I never did get the water.
I am standing there in my sheet, on one foot, but doing a good job of disguising it, I think. Ratchet glares back across the room at me. I sit down in a chair and choose to look nonplussed by the whole thing. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comfficeffice" /><o></o> As an aside, any of you ever have that dream where youre in public with no clothes? Yes, that one. The one that psychologists say indicates insecurity or some such bullshit? This wasnt a dream. <o></o> The fact of the matter is I was re evaluating my position. One part of my brain was frantically taking inventory about what worked and what didnt. My own little Mr. Scott if you will. The damage report was not promising. Massive swelling in lots of places (think of a camel sticking off your side) accompanied by huge lack of mobility and a not small amount of pain, I didnt feel so good either. The little Scottish bastard was reporting in his best brogue, I dont think I can fixer captain. She wont hold together. DAMN! I may have over played my hand. <o></o> Security arrives and walks over with Ratchet. My, he is a fairly healthy looking guy. No problem taking him just 24 hours earlier, but times change. He has a funny look wondering why Ratchet has called him for an obvious invalid like myself. Hah!!! I did have her on the ropes. He leaves and Ratchet turns her attention back to me. She has some broken English but it is better than my Spanish. She asks me where Im going. The <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comffice:smarttags" /><st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1lace w:st="on">USA</st1lace></st1:country-region> baby. Could I please wait? The doctor is coming to see me. <o></o> Heck, that was all you had to say. I am not, however, getting back in that bed. It wore me out getting this far. Bugwife has been on the phone with the Consular and she is coming to help me out. There may be an escape here yet. <o></o> I begin to survey the situation and notice that many of the other patients have people there to see them. It is interesting because they are just sitting there. Not talking. No nurse interaction, no conversation of any type. Just sitting there. Hmmmmm, I really dont like the way this place feels. <o></o> I notice a clear plastic bag under my bed. To my complete amazement I realize it has my jacket in it. I have just hit the mother lode!! In that jacket is everything I need to survive in the desert for at least a day. Power bars, Promax bars, electrolytes, Endurox, those power jelly beans, a pharmacy and water in my camelbak. I havent eaten for almost 24 hours and I dont see any food coming. I eased the bag out from under the bed. It wasnt very graceful and yes, everybody noticed but I gave them an I dare you look and they left me alone. Whos going to mess with a naked guy that looks as bad as I do? I made a really big mess too because all my stuff was covered with <st1:country-region w:st="on">Morocco</st1:country-region> and <st1lace w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Mauritania</st1:country-region></st1lace>. <o></o> I busted out a Black Forest Promax bar and hit the nipple on my camelbak. I am back in business. I dig on a Peanut Butter and something or other Powerbar next. I still havent figured out how to walk very far or get clothes but I am working on it. <o></o> The doctor finally arrives. He speaks English and is very upset. Great, that makes 2 of us. He says I cant ride in a airplane. Says it will ruin my hip by cutting off the blood flow. Im not going to tell him I dont think I could do it anyway. How long do I need to stay in traction doc? 2 3 weeks. 2-3 weeks my ass!! We talk about throwing clots and bad brain things happening. I understand completely. So far nobody has done a damn thing to prevent any of these things. The consular arrives. She was very nice and diplomatic in that diplomat sort of way trying to resolve the situation. We talk a bit more with the doc and he leaves. <o></o> They hoist me back in bed under the condition that the traction thing doesnt go on till the doc gets back. Like magic a pair of very old scrubs appears for me to put on. They were the most beautiful things ever. Most of the buttons were missing from the shirt and my package hung out the hole in the pants but they were at least clothes. I told them I would buy a good pair. It fell on deaf ears. <o></o> The consular tells me I am in a good hospital. I am incredulous. She tells me her husband is the head of orthopedics at a private hospital in town and that they are little better though the big public hospitals have better equipment. Damn Holmes, why didnt you say that to begin with? Screw the better equipment. Put me in the first cab to the private hospital. Ill take my chances. (remember this). <o></o> The doc comes back and we talk some more. We agree that his nurses (ok I agree) suck and I am moving on. I lay back thinking things are finally looking up. Im not going to get home today but things should get somewhat better and hopefully they wont try to take me to surgery by accident. <o></o> Couple of hours later the ambulance boys show up to take me away. Before I can go I need my money, gear and passport. I have to sign for it. Problem is they already have me in the ambulance. Ratchet comes running out and explains the situation. The ambulance guys refuse to take me back in the hospital. Give me a break willya? I get the consular on the horn and we agree she can send someone to get it. Absolutely nothing about this place is easy. <o></o> This was definitely the worst ambulance ever. Much worse than the first. It beat the crap out of me. It was so bad I couldnt hardly breath at some points. <o></o> We arrive at the private hospital in the middle of a very busy downtown street. <o></o> I am about to acquire a very deep hate of the <st1lace w:st="on">Canary Islands</st1lace>.
I hope that one day I have a story as great as yours! Hope everythig straitens out ok. Can't wait to read more! But, hurry... the edge of my seat is killing me! Hears to you!!!
And I know it gets worse, leads me to think I never, ever, ever, ever want to be injured outside the US. I'm sooooo waiting for the rest. Damn... Barry
Bug...Your killing me Its like the dentist pulling a tooth slowly:eek1 Can't wait to hear the rest of this tale
The problem with emergencies is we don't get to pick when or where they happen. I've been avidly following this and to cut to the chase, you're back home and with good medical care? Or, is your devious and dastardly purpose to snub your nose, and make us wait in dire suspense until you 'yet again' leave us in a cliff-hanger? Holding on only by the edge of our seats. Will Batman survive the clutches of the evil and medically twisted Canary man long enough for the arrival of the svelte Batwoman? All this and more will be revealed in the next episode of our intrepid hero. A great story is in the telling and this my friend, is a great one.
"We always think of death as black, but it's only the preliminaries that are black. Death itself is white" - Pavel Nikolayevich Solzenhitsyn: Cancer Ward I am no doc but have suffered motorcycle crash trauma etc. You doctor was talking sense re pressurized flying, clots, stroke, pulmonary embolism, bone death etc. Embolism risk surely high even with you lain in bed (pooling of blood, deep bruising, deep vein thrombosis etc) In which case why was he so lax on enforcing reasonable monitoring of you as a patient if only because you were in a high degree of agitation? Keeping you quiet and fairly immobile whilst under traction is a standard practise surely if seemingly performed in a cack handed way but the lack of monitoring given your condition is negligent in extreme. What does your doc in the US think of all of this? And it gets worse from here? Whoever is considering the Dakar and their supporters next year need to consider the "What to do if i am banged up" repat/ trauma care angle. This is a great thread and surely makes thinking through med back up a bigger consideration for next years participants. Over the years there must have been countless situations like this. Put a Spanish and French hospital phrase book in your jacket at least. Expect the worst. At least you were'nt in Truro General.
Like everyone else here, Bug', I think your story is very well told. I keep comin' home from work and checking this thread first thing. I do hope that wherever you are writing this from, it's far better than what we've heard about so far. I do have a question for you or for anyone else who can provide an educated response. Would something like MedJetAssist have helped at all in this case? Or do they have exclusions for motorsports? B