It’s been a year since writing about breaking me ankle. Tip of the ole hat across the pond to Simone for nudging me into an update.
Surgery went well with Doc carving in a titanium plate and nine screws. May have been a bit of overkill but he honored my wishes to be able to do “everything I did before” with a bionic ankle.
The hardest part of it all was the sitting around while healing. For a wanderer that was a veryyy long slog. Several months later it was made more tolerable when I got crutches and Dad would take me to local parks for roof-less respite (thank you Dad for helping enormously during my downtime!).
Oh yeh — that very expensive helicopter ride? I was able to negotiate them down to a few thousand bucks from their massively insane $80k+ bill. Phew. Still, shows how crazy the medical system can be in the States.
In late May I did a test run by hitting the road for a few weeks in the camper (well… I should say wildfires in the area prompted me to escape the intense pall of smoke). I was headed thereabouts to South Carolina but halfway the wind whispered to go west. So I veered to parts of Georgia, Mississippi and Alabama at free dispersed campgrounds. They offered up slices of natural heaven where I lingered longer than usual, a nice respite from last trip’s hectic pace before snapping ankle.
Ah, ye wind — she never fails to surprise and delight with the places she steers me to.
Things went well save for back issues from sitting so long and limping while recovering (’tis much better today - time heals!). The biggest issue was — surprisingly — my physical conditioning. I expected some decline but not the extent it did while waylaid. Even a year later I’m still not quite where I want to be but am slowly getting there. It amazes me how quickly conditioning can fall off a cliff and how long it takes to get back into that high(er) saddle.
When it happened — the breaking of the ankle and crawling back up to the trail — it was an ethereal moment of utter serenity surrounded by a knowing that all would be well.
And that it was meant to be.
Looking back, I see it was a tripwire of life, pulling me back to a place of long stillness into meditation and contemplation. A spiritual and literal reorientation of sorts.
What did I truly want, aside from wandering?
For awhile I’ve had this urge to write more and more but into what, other than my journals? I couldn’t see myself writing books or articles, anything conventional, etc. so urge stalled out and put away.
It was those long hours in my chair, casted leg propped up, that I let my mind do the wandering into a more analog life via all manner of paper zines1, handmade & artist books, APAs (Amateur Press Associations2), bookmaking/binding tools, stacks & reams of different papers and so on. Dad looked askance at the maelstrom of inspiration sailing through the mailbox but he also saw the dawning of a new light in my eyes.
So this was a year of halting and catching fire3 creatively and spiritually, flames of long lost passions flaring into words / art / soul made tangible.
Where the SNAP! of my ankle woke me up.
POW!
Zines are small, handmade mini-books/magazines (usually sheets of paper folded and stapled) where folks share their stories, art n’ such outside traditional publishing.↩︎
APAs are a group of folks who write things and send them to a coordinator who gathers them together into a compendium and sends it back for them to enjoy. Like a group newsletter of sorts. I’ll share examples later.↩︎
“Halt and Catch Fire” is throwback computerese that refers to code which causes the CPU to cease operation, requiring a restart. (The show of same name was great, you might like it).↩︎
I was hiking the Narrows trail along the Rockcastle river in Kentucky’s Daniel Boone National Forest, slipped off the edge of the trail and broke me ankle.
There was no cell phone service so I ended up butt-crawling a ways on the trail (crutches I hacked together made things worse with weak wood out there) until I finally raised a faint signal. Texted 911 (so thankful they have this service for the deaf), helped their volunteer rescue squad locate me by boat on the river below and their wonderful firemen hauled me down the mountain with good cheer.
It was getting dark and my phone died the moment I saw them so I was very fortunate.
Since I was in middle of nowhere and local hospitals didn’t do ortho they had to airlift me to Lexington at the University of Kentucky’s hospital. I insisted I drive but they talked me out of it thankfully (still wincing waiting for that helicopter bill though…).
It was 4th of July weekend so I spent hours and hours watching humanity roll by in the hallways until they finally got to me and after several x-rays and a CAT scan determined I had a “closed trimalleolar fracture of right ankle.” Ouch, that’s three broken bones.
They give me a painkiller and wrenched my ankle back into place and tell me I will need surgery in a couple weeks. Then more x-rays to make sure all was wrangled into place.
I groggily asked them what the heck they gave me, whatever it was made go temporarily blind and as a deaf person that’s a terrifying thing.
“Ketamine,” she said. I shook my head furiously and said “never again!” Next to me two burly Federal Bureau of Prison guards watching over their prisoner getting his carved up ear stitched back together cracked up at my admonishment. “Right?!” I grinned.
X-rays are back; nope they didn’t wrench me back into place quite enough so the newly made cast is sliced off and more wrenching to come. This time they give me something other than Ketamine — weaker but more tolerable and my vision didn’t fade.
All good this time around and I am finally discharged from the hospital almost exactly 24 hours later.
Dear ole Dad flies up to drive me and my camper back to homebase in Gainesville, Florida. What a blessing he and my daughter have been at rallying help.
After meeting with a sports orthopedist in town and more x-rays & CAT scans it’s determined I actually have two broken bones and just one of them will need surgery. I’ll take that!
Now I await surgery in a few days.
The whole thing has been a relatively painless affair so I’ve been very lucky with that kind of break. The worst part of the whole thing? That dadgummed cabin fever. I just ain’t an indoor person so it slays my soul to stay immobilized on doctor’s orders.
But soon, I remind myself… Soon I will be free once again to roam and dance with beloved nature.
Back to civilization for hot showers and laundry. Managed to snag a first-come first-served spacious lakefront spot amidst big rigs all over. Nice to have ducks for company on Summersville lake which feeds the famous Gurley river.
Altitude 347.15 ft Buchanan, VA 86°F (feels 91°F) Sunny (wind 2.5 mph)
View from my backyard in a hammock. Very peaceful and refreshing. There’s a little waterfall on the right if you look closely. Am in base of Blue Ridge mountains and close to Appalachian trail which I walked a bit of for kicks.
Altitude 298.116 ft Bassett, VA 79°F (feels 80°F) Cloudy (wind 3.9 mph)
…on Philpott lake in Virginia near Blue Ridge mountains. Another packed Corps of Engineers campground; will be nice to hit a quiet national forest up next.
For my curious followers, I’m following @kev@qrk.one’s footsteps and merging my Fediverse account into Micro.blog for simplicity’s sake at @ray@alongtheray.social. Thanks Kev!
You may have noticed I haven’t been traveling as much these past few months. While crossing the desert in Arizona last year, a thought popped into my mind — my dad is getting on in his years as he reaches his mid-80s and I ought to be around him more while he’s still here. Same for mom and the inescapable fading of her memory.
I have the rest of my life to wander all I want and I’ll still take side trips like I did to the Carolinas recently. The key is not to have regrets later — that I could have been around more.
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A consequence of being in one place more is I’ve been diving hard and fast into being on the computer all the time to get things done and shore up my businesses & side projects.
Big mistake. Despite being in as good physical shape as I’ve been in years and feeling great, my body crashed hard and the fatigue came roaring back.
A lesson I’ll take to heart and heed because the last couple of times I ignored the groans of my body as it fried over the computer, I fell into major illnesses (Ménière’s disease over a decade ago and Lyme disease a few years ago).
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When long-distance family came for a rare visit, I was unable to spend not even an hour with them because my eyes were still too fried from the computer to be able to lip-read much without keeling over.
That really bothered me because it was a missed opportunity to spend more cherished time with them.
It was then I realized it was the long tail of the Universe reinforcing that it’s time to make changes and I ain’t no spring chicken anymore.
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Just as well, too. The past few years I’ve been feeling this quiet itch to move back into the analog way of life—where I deal and create with tangible forms.
Like writing more by pen & paper (which I now adore), satisfying the urge to do more art in all forms—painting, Linotype printing, hand-making books & zines, etc. A bit of woodwork here and there… all of which would meld into a big part of things I create & do with my hands.
These are journeys of a different kind — alchemy — as I move into the next phase of my life: One where I honor my body, heart and creative passions at long last.
I’ll be sharing these ideas & project creations here as I fumble along this new path.
And rest assured, I’ll always be forever wandering.
On the way back to homebase in Florida…
