like they could touch the bones right through my paper-thin layer of skin. If I had any hope of rebuilding muscle, I needed to get out of bed and start moving.
On one of my first days at Craig Hospital, a doctor came into my room to tell me the story of Sir Ernest Shackleton. As soon as the name fell from his mouth, Junior and Mary burst out laughing. You see, I’ve been a fan of the great explorer Shackleton for many years. My kids all grew up hearing me tell the story of his heroic Antarctic expeditions, especially what became known as the Imperial Antarctic Expedition from 1914-1917. Shackleton was attempting to cross the continent from sea to sea. His ship, called the Endurance , became trapped in pack ice and was crushed before rescuers could reach him and his team. Shackleton set out to get help and returned two years later to save his crew members, who all survived. As a result of his valiant efforts, he became known for his leadership abilities under the most extreme circumstances.
The doctor stood in my room and said, “Dave, we’re looking at running a marathon together, and today is the first step toward our first mile.”
Of course, I was still paralyzed, so I would need to learn how to walk again before I could enter the race, so to speak. But that wasn’t the real obstacle standing in my way. There was something else that needed to be dealt with before I could even consider beginning my rehabilitation and physical therapy.
The next part of my story isn’t for the squeamish, so if you are the kind of person who gets queasy at the thought of blood, you may want to skip the next few pages. Remember, you’ve been warned!
As a result of being in my hospital bed so long, mostly in a highly drugged state and unable to move, I developed what I now refer to as a world class butt sore . My sore didn’t start on the outside and work its way inside; essentially, it began as an interior wound that burrowed its way through to my outer skin, revealing a tunnel to my tailbone and connective tissue. It started from the staph infection within my body and literally ate away layers of my muscle and skin until it created a giant hole in my back that a fully-grown man could put his fist through. Despite the nurses’ best efforts to turn me every couple of hours, this very large bedsore just above the crack of my derrière had become increasingly infected. Bedsores are injuries to skin and underlying tissues that result from prolonged pressure on one spot. They usually develop in areas on skin that cover bony parts of the body, such as the heel, ankles, hips or buttocks.
Let’s be clear about something. I am a fiercely competitive man. I like to win, and if you happen to beat me, you can bet that I put up a damn good fight. This was one contest, however, I’d rather have been left out of!
The doctors discovered my bedsore while I was at Sky Ridge, but my condition had been so severe, it was actually the least of their worries until they could get my staph infection and other ailments under control. By the time I arrived at Craig Hospital to start my rehabilitation, my bedsore had become one of the worst they’d ever seen. There was no hope that it would heal on its own. A bedsore that makes it to this serious stage often causes extensive destruction, including tissue death, and damage to muscle, bone and supporting structures such as tendons, joints, and the body capsule. The doctors would have to perform flap surgery, which required cutting the skin above my tailbone into three pizza slices, and then pulling them over the open wound to close the gap in my back.
At first, I didn’t want anyone to see the sore. It was nasty-looking and not something one rushes to show off. Nevertheless, doctors and nurses from all over the hospital were stopping by my room to get a peek at my…uh…cheeks because mine was such a severe case. After a while, it got to the point where any time someone stopped by my room, I’d greet
On one of my first days at Craig Hospital, a doctor came into my room to tell me the story of Sir Ernest Shackleton. As soon as the name fell from his mouth, Junior and Mary burst out laughing. You see, I’ve been a fan of the great explorer Shackleton for many years. My kids all grew up hearing me tell the story of his heroic Antarctic expeditions, especially what became known as the Imperial Antarctic Expedition from 1914-1917. Shackleton was attempting to cross the continent from sea to sea. His ship, called the Endurance , became trapped in pack ice and was crushed before rescuers could reach him and his team. Shackleton set out to get help and returned two years later to save his crew members, who all survived. As a result of his valiant efforts, he became known for his leadership abilities under the most extreme circumstances.
The doctor stood in my room and said, “Dave, we’re looking at running a marathon together, and today is the first step toward our first mile.”
Of course, I was still paralyzed, so I would need to learn how to walk again before I could enter the race, so to speak. But that wasn’t the real obstacle standing in my way. There was something else that needed to be dealt with before I could even consider beginning my rehabilitation and physical therapy.
The next part of my story isn’t for the squeamish, so if you are the kind of person who gets queasy at the thought of blood, you may want to skip the next few pages. Remember, you’ve been warned!
As a result of being in my hospital bed so long, mostly in a highly drugged state and unable to move, I developed what I now refer to as a world class butt sore . My sore didn’t start on the outside and work its way inside; essentially, it began as an interior wound that burrowed its way through to my outer skin, revealing a tunnel to my tailbone and connective tissue. It started from the staph infection within my body and literally ate away layers of my muscle and skin until it created a giant hole in my back that a fully-grown man could put his fist through. Despite the nurses’ best efforts to turn me every couple of hours, this very large bedsore just above the crack of my derrière had become increasingly infected. Bedsores are injuries to skin and underlying tissues that result from prolonged pressure on one spot. They usually develop in areas on skin that cover bony parts of the body, such as the heel, ankles, hips or buttocks.
Let’s be clear about something. I am a fiercely competitive man. I like to win, and if you happen to beat me, you can bet that I put up a damn good fight. This was one contest, however, I’d rather have been left out of!
The doctors discovered my bedsore while I was at Sky Ridge, but my condition had been so severe, it was actually the least of their worries until they could get my staph infection and other ailments under control. By the time I arrived at Craig Hospital to start my rehabilitation, my bedsore had become one of the worst they’d ever seen. There was no hope that it would heal on its own. A bedsore that makes it to this serious stage often causes extensive destruction, including tissue death, and damage to muscle, bone and supporting structures such as tendons, joints, and the body capsule. The doctors would have to perform flap surgery, which required cutting the skin above my tailbone into three pizza slices, and then pulling them over the open wound to close the gap in my back.
At first, I didn’t want anyone to see the sore. It was nasty-looking and not something one rushes to show off. Nevertheless, doctors and nurses from all over the hospital were stopping by my room to get a peek at my…uh…cheeks because mine was such a severe case. After a while, it got to the point where any time someone stopped by my room, I’d greet
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