Broken Neck Part 3

Yesterday I got a haircut and as per usual, the hair dresser saw the long scar on my neck. The automatic conversation starter had me telling the story again. So here we are with part 3.

It was a time for healing. My body tends to heal fast and because of the severity of my accident and lack of any permanent damage, the doctor’s decided to let my neck heal on its own.  I wore 4 neck braces during the 9 months that it would take me to heal. The first was a soft collar that is used in the majority of neck injuries. I only wore it for 6 days until I wore the harness, (see part 1) for the next 7 months.

I had regular checkups at the hospital. After 7 months my vertebrae had not healed enough. Based on the time the bone was taking to mend I was given a choice. I could either wear a neck brace for the next year or I could have surgery and be free in a month or two. After a moment of hesitation I went with the surgery option.

I had what is called a fusion. They cut open the back of my neck to access the vertebrae and they took soft bone tissue from my right hip, (after cutting that open too). They used the soft bone and put it between C4 and C3. The vertebrae use this tissue to fuse each other to create one vertebra. To keep the vertebrae from moving independently during this process, a wire is tied through the bones. The wire is eventually absorbed by the body and the small holes in the vertebrae are also healed.

What makes my neck a little more unique is that the bones decided to grab a hold of C5 and add it to the collection. Most people have 7 vertebrae, I now have 5, 2 on top, one giant one in the middle, and two on the bottom. It sort of looks like this: (C1)(C2)(C3C4C5)(C6)(C7). I wish I could describe the surgery but as I was knocked out, I can’t. I also can’t remember how long I was under the knife, but I seem to recall around 4 to 5 hours.

What is interesting to me is that those hours are gone from my memory. I have always had a good sense of time but those hours were instantaneous. I was lying on the table with the mask over my face counting down from 10 and I got to 7. A split second later I heard my Mom calling my name. She said, “Greg it’s time to wake up. Your surgery is over.” I opened my eyes, said something and went back to sleep. I slept 21 hours and grew 1 inch. I went in for my surgery 6’1” and when I stood up I was 6’2”.

After the surgery I graduated to my third neck brace. It was a hard plastic thing with metal and leather. It was awful. I hated it. I don’t think I have ever admitted this to anyone, but I took it off all the time. After 7 months I had had enough. I still get chills every time I think about how careless I was with my neck after the surgery. I’m pretty sure I kept my Angels busy 24/7.

After 8 months I was given my final neck brace, a foam two piece with hard plastic that I was allowed to take off. I took it off all the time. I was so close to freedom I could taste it. Then 9 months later I was done with it. My neck had healed and was once again able to feel the breeze on the skin of my neck and hopefully never wear a neck brace again. It was a strange and wonderful feeling to finally be free.

I had survived without any permanent damage and only lost 10% of the movement in my neck. My life would never be the same again and every time I tell this story I feel the pain both physically and emotionally. I have yet to fully understand the significance this experience has had or will have on my life. Without a doubt it changed me an alerted my character. Perhaps one day I will have an epiphany and I will fall to my knees and weep.

Childhood Nightmares

After a sleep plagued by one of the worst nightmares I have had in a long time, I am reminded of two reoccurring dreams from my childhood. I had both these dreams on a nightly basis for years and they still influence my emotions and some of my deepest fears. The first deals with my Mom and the second a big ass dog.

The first dream was always short and there was never any audible dialog. My Mom would be talking to me, I would scream at her and she would turn and start running away. I would start crying and try to follow her down an endless flight of stairs, never quite catching up, but I was always able to see her legs and feet. Some night this would go on for flight after flight after flight, (of stairs). Thankfully, some nights it was over quickly.

The second dream always started off normal. I would be leaving my school with my best friend Christopher. When we got to the back alley behind my friend’s home off of Hawthorne, I would start to sense a darkness following us. The fear would begin to creep in so I would always start to run. In the dream I only look back once, just to see. Every time there was a shadow bearing down on me and Christopher was gone. I would jump into a wooden box at my friend’s house that was used to store garbage cans and close the lid. As the darkness went passed I would wait a few moments and then open the lid just to peak.  A giant dog would jump in mouth wide open and just before the teeth took hold of my head I would wake up. This dream never changed and I was never able to wake up before the dream ended.

There are many more dreams from my childhood that I remember and maybe one day I will go back and write about those as well. For now, feel free to psychoanalyze me.

Sliding On Ice

J, Sammy and I were in St Petersburg Russia some time in November walking around Peter and Paul’s Cathedral, (I think). There was this huge open courtyard where people were standing taking pictures, playing in the snow and sliding on patches of ice. As we meandered through the vast open space, we came across a very long smooth patch of ice. I was wearing my comfortable dress shoes that allowed me to slide like I was wearing ice skates; without the control that skates provide.

I took a running start and gracefully hit the ice trying my best to keep my balance. At the exact same time and young teenager started his run on the other side of the ice patch. He also hit the ice with poise. We both looked up and our eyes locked and widened ever so slightly.

Now if you were him, what would go through your mind if a 300lbs 6’2” man was sliding toward you at a fairly good clip? I guess it would be like an average U-Haul truck about to have a head on collision with Toyota Corolla. As we got closer to each other, I really wished either one of us was wearing better shoes because no matter how hard we tried, the impending collision was unavoidable.

Visually it was like a pinball bouncing off a bumper. We collided and he bounced off me to the left and fell flat on his back. I stayed up for just a moment longer and down I went too. We were both ok but we laughed, smiled at each other and shook hands. I hope that young man will always remember that day.

Disgusting Childhood Memory

This afternoon at work we were talking about our earliest memories and it got me thinking about one that was, for lack of a better word, disgusting. For those of you who are squeamish about bodily functions, you should stop reading now. However, if you enjoy a good laugh based on childhood stupidity, please read on.

I was around 5 years old and I was sick with the flu and all the wonderful symptoms that go along with it. I had been puking all day and I was getting tired of going to the bathroom. In my infant wisdom and lack of common sense, I thought that gravity would keep it all down.

I was trying to get comfortable in my parents living room sitting on a brown reclining chair. When the urge came, I tilted my head back and pointed my face to the ceiling. The instant my muscles contracted, the projectile vomit left my body, flew straight up in the air, hung there for just a moment and came right back down. I was covered in the wet, chunky guck that my body had rejected.

In retrospect I learned that sometimes the body is a strong enough force to go against the laws of physics; even if it was just for a moment.

Broken Neck Part 2

I was finally able to go home. Now don’t get me wrong. As a 14 year old in the children’s hospital I was having a good time. I was able to play video games, have friends and family over all the time. I got so many toys, comic books and candy that it looked like I was the most popular kid on the wing. But whatever fun I was having, it would be years before I realized the impact this accident would have on the rest of my life. The simple things that we take for granted every day were never the same. I had to learn new ways of living.

Up until my first night in the hospital I was a stomach sleeper. I would lay down on my front, pull the blankets up around my neck and then sleep with either ear on the pillow depending on my mood. I had to learn how to sleep all over again. The first night I did not sleep well. It wasn’t the hospital or even the hard bed; when I used to have trouble sleeping, I would move to the floor and sleep on the carpet. The problem was sleeping on my back. Having that feeling of my eyes rolling back and the snoring drove me nuts in the first few months. I also had a drooling problem and without the help of gravity, that had nowhere to go. Learning how to sleep again was really annoying.

Safety was a huge concern for the doctors and my family. Having such a severe injury required a complete change of routine. I couldn’t have a shower just in case I would slip and fall. It also meant that I could not have a bath unless I had help. In my stubbornness, I refused to let anyone see my naked body. The only option left was a sponge bath that I administered myself. Washing my hair was a unique challenge. To be safe, my Mom washed my hair, but my Dad came up with a brilliant system to make it work. He got a basin to collect the water, took a garbage bag and cut a drain hole on one of the bottom corners. The open end was positioned around my head and neck, allowing the water to flow down through the bag into the basin. It was really well done.

There was also an issue with smell. I spent most of my time doing nothing during the summer playing video games and watching movies or TV. I was not very active so the issue was not what you think. The problem was with the chin support. Having something against your skin 24 hrs a day was gross. My chin and the support started to smell like really stinky feet. I hated it. The smell was always there. After a few months I was given a replacement pad which I tried to keep as clean as possible. There are still some times when I can still feel the grim, especially if I get a whiff of that smell.

The concern for my safety went beyond just daily routine. I was no longer able to play any contact sports. It was obvious that while my neck was healing, I had to avoid any mild form of stress or trauma to my body. After I healed, my neck was not properly balanced, (I’ll explain that in part 3). This prevented me from playing football. I think I would have made an excellent football player. We will never know now.

I should mention that I also no longer took public transit. I never fully understood why I couldn’t ride the bus. Over the next 2 years, up to the time I got my driver’s license, my Mom became my chauffeur. I got rides to and from school every day. The only theory for this change was just for my Mom’s sanity. I did and still do appreciate everything that my Mom and Dad did for me during this time of my life.

The Shower Event

For a big man I’m light on my feet and rock solid on the ground. I can ride the subway without hanging on to a railing to keep my balance. However, I have been known to fall on occasion and when I do it can be a spectacular event with significant damage to me, another person(s) or a thing.

This is a story of how I destroyed property and had to pay $100USD to make amends. I was traveling through Europe with J and Sammy after our student exchange program in Lithuania. We had been through Germany and we were now staying at a wonderful bed and breakfast outside Salzburg Austria. After two nights of sleeping on a train we finally had a bed to sleep in, a hot shower and a wonderful breakfast.

The home we stayed in was beautiful and clean. The rooms were big, one with a double bed and the other a queen. We slept like the dead and in the morning all of us did not want to get up. After not having a shower for 2 days, I could almost feel the warm water washing away the grime. So I got up and headed for the bathroom. As luck would have it, I was the only one who would shower that day.

The bathroom was tiled white and immaculately clean. The tub was an old cast iron beast. One of those tubs with the claws for feet. There was a piece of glass that was attached to the wall near the shower head that extended about 3 ft along the side of the tub to keep the water from splashing all over. The shower/tub did not have a shower curtain so I had to be extra careful not to make too much of a mess.

I got in the shower and started to get clean. I used shampoo and lathered up my greasy hair. I used soap and a washcloth and started working on my 6’2” 310lbs body. At this point I was covered in soap from head to ankle, letting the suds do their work. After all, it could be days before another shower like this. I started to wash my right foot and then it happened. I have wondered why I put my foot down because what happened next was one of those spectacular events.

When my soapy foot hit the tub it was like driving 100 km/hr and hitting black ice. My balance was gone and I was falling backwards toward the piece of glass. I couldn’t see very well because the shampoo was getting into my eyes. I reached up to grab the shower head to regain my balance. Well as I mentioned before, I’m a big guy. I ripped the shower head right off the wall, fell backwards through the glass shattering it. I ended up on my back, naked and covered with soap lying on the tile floor. The water was spraying all over the place. It was something.

After the initial “holy shit I can’t believe that just happened” moment passed, I got up turned the water off and checked to see if I was bleeding. I still couldn’t see very well so I got back in the shower and turned the water back on and rinsed off. There was no blood so I was ok, but the shower was no longer available for use. All that cost me $100USD. Not too bad.

Perhaps the funniest part of the story is what J and Sammy experienced. They were just down the hall still lying in bed. When they heard the crash they looked at each other, laughed and said, “Ha ha, Greg fell.”

The Kite

When JJ, my grandpa passed away, I was in Toronto trying to decide whether to fly home to see him one more time or wait until the funeral. I had spent 3 days speaking with my parents going over all our options. My mom spoke with her dad and he said that he knew. He knew what I was thinking and how I feel. He said that he always kept a special place in his heart just for me. He said, “I know Greg.” I miss him very much and I regret not going to Winnipeg to say goodbye.

Somehow I want to write to show my respect for a truly extraordinary man. The only thing that I can think of is to tell stories and as I have said before, I love a good story.

I was 10. My parents had bought a new house on Foxdale and sold their house on Hawthorne. The home on Foxdale was a 2 bedroom bungalow that was being renovated into a 4 bedroom with a second floor above the garage. We did not have a home for a long time so we stayed at my grandparent’s house. I have so many memories from that summer. My grandparent’s house was a fantastic playground for me.

You see, my grandpa was a working man. He loved to build things with his hands. He had tools that I still don’t know how to use. His garage was full of gardening tools, power tools, a drill press, table saw, router table and a seeming endless supply of wood. During the summer we spent at his house, he was building his garden using lattice. He could have gone to the store and bought prefabricated lattice but he would rather build it himself from scratch.

Once again my imagination took over. I was looking at all this thin, light weight wood that my grandpa was going to use for his lattice. I could just imagine the kite that I could build. I took one piece and cut it up. I used twine to tie each section into the shape of a kite and used a garbage bag for the skin and tail. It was a remarkable kite, brown and green with duck tape. I was sure it would fly.

Ten kites later, I was out of wood and crushed by my defeat. I was so sure it would work. When my grandpa came into the garage he saw the mess of his wood and how unhappy I was. Here I was in my own head just beginning to realize that I had used the wood without asking my grandpa. The guilt and fear began to creep in. He looked at me with his eyes filled with understanding and grace. Put his arm around me and asked me to make sure I cleaned up the mess.

He knew me better than anyone and I love him dearly.