You Don''t Know What You You've Got Till Its Gone

 I hobble out to the garage filled with motorcycles and bicycles, golf clubs and hiking packs, and now knee and electric scooters.  Life was so full of fun and adventure when it all came to a screeching halt with a simple tendon tear.  Now I either mount my knee scooter and push around the block or unplug the sitting electric scooter and to tool around the neighborhood for endless, mindless miles at a time.  You don't know what you've got till its gone.

I can ride to my PT appointments around the corner and I can even take the dog with me for off road tours of the washes, drainages and bike paths.  She pulls like a sled dog, extending my battery range and gaining a new kind of strength every day   She has one goal in mind; to catch frisbees to her unending delight and to my unending puerile.  

Arizona is not a dog friendly state with rampant, random leash laws, especially in the retirement communities.  Every patch of grass has a 'No Dogs' sign prominently displayed along with pooping dog icons and a fun loving dog icon with a strike out over it.  There are steep fines and people police it like their lives depend upon it.  Its such a negative vibe and bad Karma but we comply reluctantly.

There are countless sour puss, mal-contents stalking the streets, towed by untrained and undisciplined fi-fi dogs tugging mindlessly on sequined chains.  These protective owners vociferously insist that my highly trained work/show dog be tied down like a wild untamed beast.  I silently comply when busted but not before showing Eva's effortless come and heal commands and flashing them my evil-stink eye.  

Eva hates Arizona because of this chain rule and the fact that everything is gravel and thorns, cactus and prickly pears. We routinely pull thorns out of her nose and feet while she patiently rolls the whites of her eyes at us in disappointment and disgust.  She cant wait to get back to the land of snow banks and endless grass fields or sandy beaches with soft waves for swimming.  Me too.

It Is What It Is

           So after they carried me off the Pickle-ball court and put me on the IR - Group W Bench with my torn Achilles, shock began to creep in with the realization of what lay ahead.  I hobbled off before I got too Shockey-sad and told everyone in my best Forrest Gump voice 'sorry I ruined your white old guy Pickleball Tournament'.  

Tracey found an ER clinic our insurance might accept and the Doc-in-the-box there told me it was just an old tendon in my calf that we don't use anymore, so it was not a problem.  Although it still felt like a problem, there was some dubious rejoicing.  He did recommend a specialist Podiatrist and when we saw him the next day he confirmed a total Achilles tear almost immediately.  Our new man Dr. Joe Baker did the numbers and said I could get an MRI but he was 97% sure and he cold get me back to 85% within one year.  'It is what it is' said my dog Eva, knowingly and we scheduled surgery to get it fixed.  Listen to the pros but be your own health advocate.

We researched our good PEHP - IHC insurance coverage frantically for our out-of-state coverage and then gave them a call.  Several calls.  They told us that emergency work is covered while we were traveling but for repair work we had to come home to Utah.  We thought of our grim alternatives and how we might pack up and drive home but we kept plugging with the insurance company for the $50,000 answer we wanted.  

Finally one pleasant young insurance woman asked us if we were 'traveling' thru Arizona or actually 'living' there.  We told her we were 'living' there for 3-4 months.  She told us to change our address on our personal insurance web page, so we did, and then they told us that everything would be covered completely.  Sometimes you have to check the right box.

So a few days later, there I was alone at 6:00 AM on a Monday morning, counting back from 100, bummed and embarrassed to be in a cold, sterile operating room once again, covering my ass and cursing my fate, hoping I would wake up when this was all over.  I did wake up, all alone in the Covid isolation recovery room and after I stopped babbling incoherently about what a profitable assembly line of human carnage the hospital was, they let me go.

I hobbled out to the parking lot where Tracey was waiting patiently with warm poppy seed bagels and some OxyContin, one of which I was able to avoided life-long addiction to.  I still can't say no to a warm bagel.  Tracey took me home and we started our long rehab and recovery with a shmear of cream cheese and some blackberry jam.  You can't do anything without a great support team.  Thanks to Tracey and Eva, my family and good friends.

Before I Even Hit The Ground

I tore my Achilles a month ago and have been going through a slow painful rehabilitation.  Initially I did not want to journalize my trials and tribulations, as suggested by the Doc and my Physical Therapist, but on second thought, it might be a good exercise so bear with me.  For the sake of something creative to do I will try to post semi-daily for a while.  It might be a little self absorbed but it might be a good outlet to dump my thoughts and ideas.

My wife Tracey and I took this weird Covid season off from skiing and winter in Park City and came down to Tracey's mom's empty house in Tucson.  Marana to be more exact.  She has a great little place in a clean active retirement community with a Clubhouse, gym, pools and tennis courts.  We have stayed her before and liked the easy access to Saguaro National Park and the West desert, Oro valley and Tucson proper, a nice little down and dirty middle class town with a good mix of Anglo and Mexican flavor.  We were going to take it easy and heal and reboot our love of skiing that has changed over the years.  We brought bikes and motorcycles, hiking shoes and golf clubs along with lots of free stimulus money to enjoy the new and different climate and attractions.

What surprised us was the weather.  Its 45-75 and sunny all the time here.  I don't know what we were thinking but this is much nicer than we even imagined, especially when we hear of the Blizzards and Polar Vortex up north on the evening news.  We are winter - snow people and not weather snobs but it is pretty nice down here, I have to admit.  I would not want to be here at 120 degrees in the summer but there is a time and place for everyone and everything.

There is an active Pickleball community here that we met last year and we were determined to learn the nuance of a new game and activity.  After an appropriate quarantine we started showing up at the courts where there is a healthy group of 20-30 people, roughly our age, who play at varying levels.  

They are led by an ex cop, exercise madman named Billy who is obsessive-athletic and a very good pickleball player.  He saw my potential last year and took me under his wing, becoming my personal coach and trainer.  This was going to be my private P-ball mini-camp and a chance to focus on something new and different and non destructive.

Things were going swell with p-ball in the mornings, a swim and hot tub at noon and a ride after lunch and a nap.  I was learning and improving and doing well since I am younger and more mobile than most so I could run around and chase all the wild-man shots.  My body was healing from 40 years of mountain town abuse and feeling better than it had in years.  

After a nice weekend van-camping trip in south west Arizona at Organ Pipe Cactus NP, we came back for a local p-ball tournament after Presidents day.   I was happy to be in the top 4 seed and I was playing with Billy's wife Terry who is an old tennis player and a solid p-ball player.  We were playing the best two guys out there and we were winning 9-1.  

On a nondescript volley I saw the opportunity to move up to the net as Billy had taught me, running not walking.  So I twisted slightly to face the ball and took off from the baseline on my right foot, like I have done a million times.  Halfway through the step I felt a tear and heard a pop in my head as my Achilles tore in half and I howled.   I knew what had happen and what it would entail for the months ahead, before I even hit the ground.