I nearly died the other day

Sorry I haven't blogged in a while, but I was moments away from death last week.

Ok, I was definitely at risk of dying.

Ok, ok, there was a slight chance I was going to die.

Alright fine, I fell down, broke several bones, drove the car to the ER while in blinding pain, and I'm currently in the ICU encased in a body cast.

ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!!! I fell down on some rocks and it really hurt. Are you happy?!?

I turn 40 next month. It's crazy how the older I get, the more one fall has the potential to inflict some serious damage. In this case, no broken bones, but I was so sore I could barely walk the next day, and it still hurts to take a deep breath.

How did this happen? Let me set the scene. 

I love taking my dog, Aspen, for walks. He is the perfect dog for walking. He never pulls on his leash. He loves being outside, doesn't care how cold he is (obviously; he's a freaking polar bear), and really enjoys exploring new places. 

He especially likes hiking in the snow. We get a TON of that in Eastern Tennessee!

I've been all over Knoxville with him--to every park I can find. My favorite place to go with Aspen is Ijams Nature Center. Ijams is a beautiful natural area on the Tennessee River just outside downtown Knoxville. There are hiking trails all over with a boardwalk along the river and plenty of wildlife scampering through the woods. The park is never overly crowded and has just enough hints of wildness that you can forget for a moment that you are still near the city.

I had to show Betsy and Grace the scene of the accident yesterday

On a whim, I took my handsome, noble pet to Ijams last Thursday. It was a perfectly crisp fall day--still fairly early in the morning so few people roaming the trails in the park. Normally, I took Aspen on a loop along the boardwalk by the river. But, he gets bored if we go the same route. I can tell when he's bored because he no longer stops to sniff every foreign object along our route. Instead, he just walks, glumly behind me. He steadily falls further and further behind, until I'm practically dragging him back to the car. So instead of hiking down to the river's edge, I chose a different route that first climbed up to a river overlook, then meandered down past a sinkhole and over a swampy area back behind--and probably 100 ft below--the park visitor's center.

Grace loves packing a really heavy backpack...then making us carry it

Such a beautiful morning for a hike. The autumn leaves carpeted our path and the high canopy of the older trees dimmed my surroundings and kept undergrowth away so I had a mostly unobstructed view of the rolling landscape and small woodland creatures surrounding us. Not another person in sight; only the peaceful sounds of nature that were so far removed from our suburban life across town. My fiercely loyal pet and I wandered, first following a tributary of the river, then circling around the visitor's center and some other historic buildings. As I said, we ended up far below the parking lot, on a series of boardwalks in a marshy area. By this point of the hike, I was tired, and--as so often happens on our morning walks these days--feeling the call of nature and in need of a bathroom.

His camouflage is amazing, isn't it?

So, I'm standing down there looking up this steep incline at the back end of the visitor's center, knowing our vehicle is within easy reach, ready to just get this walk over with so I can find the nearest restroom and do my business. The trail seemed to continue on, with a series of steep stairs cut into the hill and a rope railing leading up about 20 feet. 

Looks safe to me!

With my best friend at my side, I climbed those stairs, thinking there would be a trail leading me straight back to civilization. Instead, the path abruptly ended. That was it. The only way I could get back was retracing my steps and following the winding trail back over the roughly 10 miles* I'd just hiked. I looked my steadfast companion in the eyes and we decided to take a little shortcut, even though we'd just passed a sign warning us to stay on the trail.

Actually, it was this sign

Aspen swore he would help me over the difficult parts. I knew I could rely on my dog--just as early man depended on the first domesticated wolves for our survival. I set off up the mountain with my partner cautiously picking out a path in front of me. With only one working arm and my left leg weaker than the right, I couldn't race up the rocky hillside like I could've done a decade ago. But, I made steady progress with my furry white knight leading the way.

The hill I climbed looked strikingly similar to this

I was nearly at the summit. I could see the tops of cars and the pressure from my bladder had me in panic mode. Then, disaster. My left foot slipped on the moist ground. My left arm couldn't catch my body and there was nothing to prevent my left side from slamming against the sharp rocks embedded in the hillside. I emitted a sharp cry of pain and maybe a profane word or two as I wallowed in the dirt and leaves in agony. As I vainly tried to count the number of broken bones, I cried out for my friend, my loyal companion, the pet who I've fed and sheltered for countless months to come to my rescue!!

Did he come rushing back to my side? Did Aspen immediately rush off to find help or medical assistance?? Nope. The fat bastard just scrambled the rest of the way up the hill and without a backward glance, he walked away as though declaring, "I never really liked that dude anyway. Anybody want to finish my walk with me?"

"Thanks a lot, lard-ass," I muttered to the no-good mongrel as I painstakingly dragged my body the rest of the way up the hill and slowly limped back to the car. The hairy, conniving traitor, as though coming to the realization that the park was deserted and no one was likely to rescue him from his incarceration with the Liebenow's, trotted back to me and climbed into the car. As he sat in his preferred spot in the front seat, slowly drooling on the dashboard, he gave me a look that said, "Guess you didn't die back there after all. Since you're the only human around, I suppose I'll have to abide your company a while longer. You just gonna stand there staring, you scrawny punk?? Let's go!!!" Yes, his look said all those things. He's a very expressive animal!

Somehow, I was able to drive through the pain and dragged myself home. I managed to whine to Betsy enough that she took me in to see the doctor. I was certain I had a few broken ribs and a cracked pelvis but the X-ray came out completely clean. A couple days later, my hip was feeling better but my chest was hurting even more. I couldn't even take a full breath without being in pain. So this time, I got a CT scan because surely I had multiple fractured ribs that the X-ray failed to catch. Nope. All that extra radiation from the CT scan was for nothing because I only had badly bruised ribs. The only positive thing that's come from this experience is that I've gotten out of even more chores around the house. Also, I've come to see my evil, self-serving dog in a whole new light. 

Oh Aspen, how can I stay mad at you??

* This may, or may not, be accurate. Could've been 5 miles. Could've been 0.5. The truth is we'll never know just how far that return journey would've been. Hey, aren't we all on our own separate long journeys called 'life?' Think about it.