The Chicken and the Egg

The next time someone says "you know, it's like the chicken and the egg thing", referring to that "classic circular reference" of which came first, do me a favour and answer "EGG!" then give them a good hard slap.

Alternatively, answer "FISH!". It's about as relevant in terms of evolution and far more entertaining in terms of a reaction. Don't forget the slap.

There's really no question about which one came first. The egg pre-dates the chicken by millions of years. The fossil record shows that egg-laying fish pre-date birds by roughly 30 million years. The egg even pre-dates the first vertebrates by about 100 million years.

Yep, I think it's time we put that little chestnut to bed.

Strange topic for this blog? Believe me, it's more than topical.

That singularly annoying phrase has been uttered ad-nauseam to me lately as progress for my private-industry prosthesis seems to have been stalled by a lack of philosophical alignment between my care providers.

1) my old doctors won't send my file until new treatment has begun but my new doctors won't begin treatment until they've reviewed my file.

2) neither the insurer nor the prosthetist will begin a case with me until a prescription has been written for a new leg but the doctors require an assessment from both before they'll write the prescription.

3) once I get the prescription, my prosthetist won't begin work until payment has been received from the insurer... but the insurer won't release funds for payment until the work has been completed (and a patient in my circumstance is not allowed to pay directly).

In speaking with them, trying to find a resolution, they invariably laugh it up and say the same thing, as if it will somehow absolve them of their own absurdity: "it's a problem for sure... but you know, it's like the chicken and the egg thing!"

Chicken and egg. Right. Somehow I think even chickens roll their eyes at that one.

Not to worry, I have a plan: "EGG! (slap) now get to work!"

Amp-a-versary

Today was my amp-a-versary and the last day of Legadon.

I've come a long way from that hospital bed one year ago and I couldn't have done it without the incredible support of my family, my friends and my entire recovery team.

To celebrate our year together and to thank you for participating in my recovery, I've compiled a short video along with this list:

November 2008: the surgery.
December: learned to pop-a-wheelie in my chair.
January: first one-legged indoor climb.
February: crutch-climbed Mount Coolum.
March: first prosthesis, first abseil/rappel ten days later.
April: first outdoor rock climb.
May: first single-fin SCUBA dive.
June: first ice skating attempt on prosthesis.
July: first cycling attempt on prosthesis.
August: Bridge to Brisbane 10k.
September: new socket, pack training.
October: climbed Mount Kilimanjaro.
November 2009: Traded in wheelchair for snowboard...

35 Days of Legadon

Today is the first day of Legadon. What is Legadon you ask? Allow me to explain!

The term "Legadon" (LegIsGone sounded too ghoulish) came about when I realized that I couldn't title this post "One Year Later" due to the fact that I have two big events to reflect on, 35 days apart. A single day just wouldn't do it justice which is the same reason I celebrate a "birthday week".

For me, the period between my accident (October 7th) and my last surgery (November 11th) has taken on a sort of "holy" symbolism, like Ramadan or Lent. As I understand it, those periods are meant to be a time of self-reflection, endurance and sacrifice resulting in a greater devotion to what's important in life.

Ramadan is approximately one lunar month long and Lent is a strict 40 days. Legadon is 35 days long.

During my first Legadon, I endured fear, intense pain and great sadness. I felt great joy and trepidation for the future. I learned humility and gained an appreciation for what's really important in life.

This Legadon, I will be experiencing much of the same as we continue our climb up Mount Kilimanjaro. With any luck, today we will climb to 15,000 feet (4,572 meters) and begin to experience the effects of extreme altitude before descending back down to 12,950 feet (3,947 meters).

Yep, nearly a year has passed but it still seems like yesterday. Life took an unexpected turn from normal that day and landed me in a very new situation, but in many ways, life has never been better.

Things got a bit more complex but if not for the events of that day, I would have missed out on meeting some very special people and reconnecting with friends and family.

A wise man said to me once: it's amazing how even in the most "unlucky" of moments you can feel really lucky. Well put.

One thing's for sure, if it wasn't for that day, I would have needed a different title for this blog. It would just be weird otherwise!


Note: This post was pre-written and pre-scheduled to be published before I left, so unfortunately I will be unable to respond to your comments at this time. I'll respond when I return!

I'm a Poster!

I went in to get fitted for my check-socket today and found a little poster of ME in the Gait Lab!

Check-socket - cheap plastic socket used to work out any "bugs" in my fit before they cast it in the expensive carbon fibre and Kevlar, making me 10% bullet-proof.

Gait Lab - a small room with a set of parallel bars used to analyse someone's "Gait" (the way they walk). All amputees pass through this lab anytime an adjustment is needed or they get a new leg.

The Gait Lab has all sorts of posters of people doing "amazing" things like running through a park or camping at the top of a mountain. They're meant to be inspiring.

They had quite the opposite affect on me!

On my first day in the lab, after patiently waiting so long to get going on my new leg, these posters scared the hell out of me.

Afterall, if camping on a mountain top or going for a jog in the park is the exception to the rule, so much so that the guy gets his own poster, then what should I expect?

Not to dismiss what those people in the posters are doing, not by any means! Many of them are above-knee amputees (I can't imagine how tough that would be) and climbing a mountain is no small feat when you have fake feet. I guess it just sent a shiver down my spine thinking that these images are meant to be the "pinnacle of what can be achieved".

Lucky for me, I already knew a guy racing Triathlons so I knew to set my goals a bit higher!

Now I just need to find someone who'll make me an action figure... and yes, I really should be paying my photographer a lot more!


The Gait Lab.


This is a cool poster!

Carving Out the Potential

I had a lot of time last week to think. When I think, I putter. Here's what I decided:

I think we often get so caught up in seeing things for what they are that we fail to see what they could be.

We're blinded so much by what we perceive that we fail to recognize the full potential of the thing.

If we can't get past that first obstacle, we can't form a vision of the possibilities or start clearing away the rubble to see what's under the surface.

If we can overcome that obstacle, we start ourselves down a path of enlightenment and potential. That vision becomes our obsession.

As we proceed, we may lose sight of that vision. Things aren't looking right and don't seem to be going the way we'd hoped or expected. We begin to think we've made a mistake or that we've been overly ambitious with what we've got. We must constantly redefine our expectations.

If we persist, we begin to see that the vision was never really lost. Instead, we come to recognize that there are other forces at play in shaping it.

It's in this realization that we recognize the true potential. By letting go of our preconceived notions and allowing things to progress as they're meant to, without force, we begin to see it take on a beauty of its own.

As we relax, things take shape. Our vision changes slightly and what it has become begins to exceed our expectations. Our vision becomes reality.

It would be easy to stop at this point but that's when the really hard work begins.

From here on out, the approach we take should be subtle but persistent. We need to smooth out the rough edges and take away the surface scars of the previous approach. Only through this effort does the work take on a new luster.

Gradually, as we polish away the debris left by such a radical transformation, the inner beauty of the thing is revealed to us. We're proud. We have achieved what we set out to achieve. We may choose to hide it away for ourselves, or we may put it on display for all the world to see. We sit back and admire our hard work.

But we're still not finished. Over time, dust collects on our effort, taking back the luster we have bestowed upon it. Everyday pressures may form small cracks or chips in the surface.

All of this happens for one reason: to remind us that we must take nothing for granted. Only with constant care and involvement will our hard work remain a thing of beauty.

We must treasure what we have created, else we lose it.

The beauty of life must be constantly rediscovered else we are blind to it.

Climbing at Kangaroo Point

Four weeks ago, on March 19th, I set a goal for myself that I would do my first outdoor rockclimb in one month.

Today I achieved that goal with the help of some very good friends. It was great to be back on the rock and even better to make it to the top!

Climbing on the prosthesis was similar to what I'd expected it to be but I learned a lot that I hadn't expected. I've been visualizing the actions and trying to work out where my advantage points would be as well as what I'd need to overcome.

As MJ commented in an earlier post, imagine standing on a toe that never gets tired. This was great and it did provide a neat little perch when I could find a secure enough ledge to stand on.

Trouble was, the super flexible foot inside the shoe would also flex a little too much, twisting out of cracks when I didn't expect it, or twisting sideways off the tiny micro-edges of a sheer rock face without providing me the feedback that it was about to let go.

The foot itself is also a bit more narrow than a real foot, so putting my faith in the side of the climbing shoe was no longer an option.

I did like the fact that my toes didn't get sore in my left foot. This was fantastic when I was climbing a narrow crack. No big toe to start complaining!

A lot of my challenges today came down to a lack of sensation.

When you climb, you feel the rock through your feet a lot rather than looking for holds. A bit of pressure through the toes usually provides enough feedback to let you know whether you're going to stick or slip before transferring all of your weight to the hold.

This was definitely lacking on my left side, leaving me the challenge of working out a new system on the fly. More than once, I put my faith in a foot hold that proved to be a mistake. This new "spidey sense" will develop with more practice.

All in all, we had a great day and I had a good sense of accomplishment. I learned a LOT, found a few hitches that I'll have to work out, but eventually, I reached the top of the cliffs.

I'm happy to report that a lot of my mishaps on the cliff came less from prosthetic troubles and more from:
a) being out of practice
b) lacking proper climbing form
c) lacking confidence in my hands/shoes

... and all of that comes from not having climbed in six months. This is great news because I can easily overcome all of those by getting more practice in.

Looking forward to getting back out there for another try very soon! I've got a new form to work out so these are exciting times.



Lisa approaching the top!



Matt taking the hard road; this sheer face really shows his skill.



Mike and Mel, she's the best!

Walking the Yellow Mile

The Yellow Mile. 7 meters x 2 laps/minute x 40 minutes/week x 7 weeks = 7840 meters (where one lap is "there and back").

Last Thursday was entertaining in a ludicrous way!

My fingers were looking particularly "fing" that morning and my experiment to change my eye colour using nothing but lemon juice continued unabated.

Aside from brushing my teeth in reverse order and eating my cereal with a spatula instead of a spoon (you gotta keep things fresh), nothing in my morning routine had changed. I looked particularily dashing!

I arrived at rehab and walked the Yellow Mile as usual, brain screaming out the tune to Dr. Who and singing "the song that never ends" with deafening results inside my head.

That's normally the point in my week where my mind wanders. Back and forth, back and forth... I leave my head for a little while and when I get back, I usually find an epiphany of some sort waiting for me.

I achieve perfect Zen in there. This is of course because the Yellow Mile is exceedingly boring and in my highly unqualified opinion, becoming that comatose is basically the same as meditation for people who are really bad at sitting still or have short attention spans like me.

I was contemplating that fact when it dawned on me: I've walked nearly 8 km between two little yellow bars on an airbag, back and forth, back and forth with only the odd attempt at a moonwalk.

Is this my happy place? I sure hope not. The coffee is terrible and there's no cereal. I really love cereal.

I went from there to my orthopedic review where I was brought in for x-rays. It is necessary to pause for a moment here to consider my gigantic chart. That's an Australian 10 cent piece next to it, roughly the same size as a Canadian quarter.

Understandably so, the intern clearly hadn't read the last chapter of my file, the one entitled "All we had was a Hacksaw and a Pocket Full of Mischief". I know this because of what transpired next in the x-ray room.

Now normally I'm not one to push for reading. If someone would rather watch the movie that's their call but in the case of my Doctors, I do hope they're not waiting for Lucas or Spielberg to finish my epic tail on the widescreen. I'm still working on the ending and it involves training thousands of monkeys.

The conversation in x-ray went something like this:
Tech - Please put your left ankle up on the bench for x-ray.
Mike - That might be a problem.
Tech - Sir, we have to take pictures of the metal work in your left ankle.
Mike - Again, that might be difficult.
Tech - Are you saying there's no metal in your left ankle?
Mike - No, I'm sure it's still there... it's just, I didn't bring it with me!
Tech (finally looking up) - Sorry? What? Oh.. Hmmm... but the doctor requested... I might need to ask someone...

Back to the waiting room for me to sit and contemplate my Yellow Mile. This time there was a little TV to keep my brain from leaping out of my skull.

If you've read my original few posts, you'll remember the episode of M*A*S*H I cited in the Emergency room that night. To my delight, M*A*S*H sparked up in the waiting room!

In this episode, Hawkeye asks for the bone saw, then gets that concerned "I'm a doctor who cares too much" look and pulls off an amazing procedure to save a man's leg using some sausage tubing from the cafeteria! Too funny!

I kept laughing quietly to myself through the serious bits. Like Tom Hanks (Paul) said in the Green Mile: "You ever try to not to laugh in church when something funny gets stuck in your head?" Same thing!

Back inside my head, try to look serious... wow, 8 km... how many more?

"This is the song that never ends
it just goes on and on my friends!
Some people started singing it
not knowing what it was,
and they'll continue singing it
forever just because..."
(repeat until dead from line one)

naaa naa naa na na HEEEEY! na na na na! naaa naa naa na na HEEEEY! na na na na!

Swimming in leg limbo

I was jones'ing for some non wheelchair or crutch related cardio today so we headed down to Brisbane's oldest swimming pool, the "Spring Hill Baths", established in 1886. The change rooms are great, just little booths on the side of the pool. One side is marked for "Gents" and the other for "Ladies".

We had the whole pool to ourselves so I felt very comfortable going for it and figuring this one out. I guess its out of the way location and the flashier health club pools have taken much of the old clientel away. You know... that and the fact that none of the original patrons from 1886 show up for Saturday afternoon tea at the pool anymore.

Swimming turned out to be surprisingly simple and nearly identical to swimming before the surgery. I had expected to be swimming in circles but my left leg held its own in the water, pushing me along at about 60% of my right leg, making it easy enough to compensate with body positioning and arm strength.

Treading water was where I really noticed the difference. I used to rely a lot more on my feet for this one so having only one meant I used a lot more energy to stay afloat. Again, just a few minor adjustments to my body position helped on this one. It didn't take long to figure out that I needed to use a sort of stomping motion in my left leg rather than the "peddling" motion I used in my right.

Swimming seems like a great way to strengthen the effected leg as well as providing a nice cardio workout for someone in "leg limbo" like myself. I can't very well jog and visions of falling off my bike at crosswalks have kept me off the peddles. My scar line has healed up nicely so this seems like a great option.

Oh... and Lisa would like to point out that she finally beat me in a swim race. Yep, she clobbered me by about a meter. In my defense, she was standing on the side of the pool taking photos while I did about 30 lengths to get a few good shots, and she was a leg up on me. This win will be her last.