The day life changed

I haven't blogged recently, the majority of you know why, but for those who don't and those who don't know the full story, come along with me, it's story time.

On January 14, 2010, around 12:15 pm what were you doing? Going to lunch? Walking to class? On the phone?

At 12:14 I was riding my bike, at 12:15, I was laying on the ground, with a compound fracture of my tibia and fibula, a broken thumb and about $5500 worth of broken equipment ($4400 according to Country Companies). By the way, I've had three out of those six fractures.

"WHAT?!" you say, "A BROKEN THUMB?!"

Ok, so here's the low down:

January 14, a brisk winter day. Snow was on the ground, but off the pavement, the streets had a nice layer of salt on them and the sun was peeking through the clouds. A chilly wind was coming in from the west. What a perfect day for a bike ride? I hurried home from class, inhaled a peanut butter burrito and got all layered up.

Still waiting on my road bike, I threw my leg over the cross bike and headed out the door. I noodled my way north through town, coming in from the south side of campus and then headed west out towards Danvers.

I used the sidewalk to move along college - it was coming towards the end of passing time so there was more traffic than I like to ride in. Heading west on the south sidewalk of College, there was little foot traffic so I was in the middle of the sidewalk. As I approached the intersection of University and College, I looked ahead to the upcoming intersection. College had a red light and Univeristy had a green light. As I grew closer to the intersection, I kept my eyes peeled. College was still stopped and University still had the green. I merged on to University with 3 seconds left on the walk timer. I was now on University, using it to turn left on to College. Upon physically entering the intersection and clearing the first lane of College, I entered the second lane and was struck by a Jeep. I could hear the bones crunch, as I plowed into with the bumper. The female driver tagged me at 40 MPH and didn't even touch her brakes.

She T-boned me perfectly. My left shoulder went into the Jeep's grill - shattered it (heard it crack). I was then catapulted on to the hood, my shoulder put a dent into it about the size of a grapefruit. Then my head went flying into the wind shield - Thank god for my helmet - shattering and catering the entire windshield (heard and felt all of that). I was then ricocheted off of the windshield, doing to aerial flips in the air and eventually landing on the pavement in the middle of the intersection.


This not being my first "super near death" rodeo I sat up looked around, stayed calm - I didn't feel like anything was wrong, it felt like I had been knocked down - checked if my hands, fingers, arms, neck worked. Check, check, check, check. Before I got too much farther a lady on the corner (which turned out to be a kinesiology professor) yelled, "DON'T MOVE! STAY RIGHT THERE". Not one to argue at this point I just kind sat there and just kinda looked around - not processing everything 100% just yet.

I turned to my right and the door of the dark blue jeep opens the girl says "Hold on, I gotta call you back, I just hit someone - OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY!" Yerp, she was on her cell phone - awesome! After a few choice words asking what her problem was, I told her she just ruined my chances at a professional racing career, I told her not to talk to me. She was apologizing up and down - sorry sister apologies don't repair lives.

Anyway back to my personal check up. fingers, hands, arms, neck, leg.... Where's the "s" you're asking? Well my right leg was ready to keep riding but my left leg had other plans.

I look over at my left leg and it looks like a "J". It is bent off to the left, bones sticking out, blood dripping out - a zombie dream.

Although at this point, the average person has blacked out - I didn't get so lucky... or maybe I did, I can't decide yet.

By now the Kinesiology professor and one other lady were are my aid, holding me as if I were their own son (I know everyone whines and moans about how society doesn't care and this, that and the other, but this proves completely wrong. Here I was, semi-sweaty, guts on the pavement and these two women, who I don't even know were cradling me, doing their best to keep me calm, all-in-all, caring). The professor and cohort were almost immediately joined by at least 4 other people.

1.) a trained first responder
2.) a nursing student
3.) a student
4.) Janeen (I actually know her - she is a figurehead in the school of nursing, but I didn't realize she was there until later)

At this point, the Kinesiology professor was giving out orders -

"You call 9-1-1!" (not me obviously)

"Chris look at me, keep talking, keep your head up!"

"Chris who do we need to call?" At this question, I perked right up and calmed any fears of brain trauma.

"You need to call my mom and dad"
"What's their name and numbers?!"
"Cheryl and Joe (insert phone numbers), and if they don't answer those phones, try these numbers (insert numbers)"

By now I am coming off the adrenaline and start looking at the people who are surrounding me and I recognize Janeen who is overlooking the whole scenario.

"Janeen, Janeen!" She looks down and I look her in the eyes "hey, it's me, Chris Kelley, can you call Cheryl (Bri's mom)?"

"Oh my God, Chris," Stunned for a moment, "What's Cheryl's number?"

I give her the number and she walks off to chat with Cheryl. And almost as soon as Janeen calls Cheryl, I see Cheryl haulin' it out of the Bone Student Center.....like seriously bookin'. She is by my side, and I start telling her the whole story and freaking out just a little bit (I was comfortable with showing a little pain). Cheryl keeps calm and does her best to keep me calm as well. She did her best, but I just kept looking down at my new leg angle and the whole back breaking experience goes running through my head - how much time I will lose, I may never walk again, did I mess up my back again, how do you fix this, are they gonna cut this off, what if I am in a wheelchair for the rest of my life - can I live like that, my mind just raced at a mile a minute. Although I couldn't see the bones, all I saw was leg off at a sweet new angle (maybe it's more ergonomic, I'll never know) and ripped in have leg warmer. I can only assume.


The ambulance shows up and these guys just go to town on me like no body's business. I answer all the questions, names, numbers, allergies etc., etc. (again this isn't the first time in the pain pavilion). They cut off all my clothing, which really upset me, I offered to take it all off, but they wouldn't let me. They double I.V. me and hit me with 10 hits of morphine. Thank god they did, cause the next step would have been blinding.


Naturally I am asking questions the entire time, trying to stay on top of everything (which is pretty impossible when you have been hit by a car), but the one thing that stuck out was that I was going to have my leg straightened right there in the middle of the street (just the sound of that makes you grit your teeth doesn't it?). But when it came time for bone realignment, J.T., the EMT, looks me in the eyes and says, "Can you feel anything man?"

"I don't think so, why?" I said

"Well, we have to straighten your leg just to get you in the ambulance," J.T. said with the most sincere look of apology I have ever seen in a man's eyes. Just think about that, my leg was so bent out of shape, that it couldn't even clear ambulance doors - those things are made for like 900 pound people and my leg wasn't going to clear it.

I ask, "can we wait til I am under?"

"No man, we got to get you in the ambulance"

"Ok, just give me a second," I paused for a minute, contemplating and accepting what was coming next. I look him straight in the eyes and say, "Ok, Let's do it."

Nothing and I mean nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

I hear "1-2-3" and my vision just goes blinding white with pain. The EMTs pulled my leg and straightened it enough to be straight on a stretcher.

I let out a growl (which is my new pain coping mechanism, just growling and breathing) and start sucking air.
They stabilize me, board me and put me on a stretcher.

As they are rolling me to the ambulance I ask, "Hey J.T., are there lots of hot chicks watching?"

"yea, man they're all over the place."

"Cool," I threw my right hand up and make a rawk-on gesture. All the while, I'm giggling like a girl - Morphine is nuts like that.

They put the stretcher in the ambulance and away we went.
We roll up to that Hospital with all the lights and sirens - like a downright disco. I get put in the emergency room, get a few shots and they get down to business. Questions, answers, mostly not lettin' me sleep.

Majority of the time, I am just calling for my mom and dad, apologizing for doing this to them again. All I could think about was how awful I felt cause I know this was hurting my parents more than it was hurting me. You have no idea how much you need your Mom and Dad when you are in the worst pain of your life and all that's separating you is a curtain - that curtain can eel like oceans. Finally I get my mom and I just apologize somethin' fierce - she says it OK with tears in her eyes. I said, "Don't worry Mom, this is nothing, I'll be OK. I lived again."

After my soft Mom-ment (like moment), I get back on my command post, "Can you please call Lisa (my coach) and Ryan (life-time cycling friend)? Just let them know what happened."

But eventually we take a trip to the x-ray room, with a girl I went to high school with.

(kinda like that)

That's always a trip, getting cared for by people who are like a year older than you.

But anyway, we roll back to the e-room, I get the real sauce and pass out for surgery. I wake up in a hospital bed to see my mom and my dad.

And I get the full report from Dad, "Chris, you messed yourself up pretty bad, but you're alive, you fractured your fibula and tibia. You have a titanium plate running down your tibia. And you have two pins in your thumb. They tried to put a rod in through your knee, but your bones flexed it, so you got a plate. So you're going to have a fake scar"

I spent 3 days in the hospital (Friday, Saturday, Sunday). Hittin' the morphine drip like it owed me money. But I was visited some of the most amazing people. I never knew I had so many people that cared and loved for me. But Steve Driscoll (READ HIS BLOG) was amazing. He visited me two times while I was there, coached me and my parents - just a blessing.... a 5'0" blessing.

I was pretty resistant to therapy. It's hard to wrap your mind around the fact that you could once ride 100 miles at all this power and all this speed but now you can barely make it to the nurses station. Mental block I guess - didn't want to accept reality just yet. Also, I was on a walker with a platform and there were hot nurses. Walkers and chicks don't go together.

But I was let loose Sunday and allowed to return home. That's right 21 and home-bound.

I laid around in a Vicodin coma for the majority of the first week. I had an appointment later in the week which put me in a cast for my hand and boot for my leg. The boot hurt so much, I didn't get out of my chair for two days straight except to go to bed and to eat.

Saturday night I hit a physiological low. This injury almost had me licked. But then Bri came through the front door and surprised me by coming home from Germany super early. That was a major pick me up for my mental game (it's funny how your head controls so much of your function). Almost instantly things started looking up.

The following Tuesday I went to the doctor and had staples removed from my leg.... all 64 (12of them in my knee, 52 of them in my calf). People say the staples don't hurt - they're lying. After the first 2-3 I figured out what the next 61 were going to feel like. It felt like having your hair pulled out, one follicle at a time.The next week I went back to school. Had to drop 9 hours, because a history of Africa professors don't want to cooperate and help me out - I understand why, it just blows. But all my business classes (the important ones - acc 132, Marketing, Management) have really come through and the professors have been amazing. But my first round of tests and homework resulted in all A's. Made that Jeep hit made me smart, wonder what a Prius would do - probably make me a GENIUS. That or it'd keep going cause the accelerator was stuck under a floormat.

Two weeks later, I got the pins pulled out of my. Again, everyone said that would be the worst - NAH... But I admit I was pretty doped up.
We took x-rays again and everything is coming together nicely. The edges of the bones are starting to blur in the x-rays and I have started physical therapy this week. The biggest thing I am combating at this point is regaining muscle flexibility.

I start walking next week, 25% weight on my left foot and I hope hope hope hope 100% in three weeks.

The End... So far