30 September 2007

On August 24th 2007 I fell the whole length of "Steirerbua", a 15 m sport route at Erikagrat crag in Mödling, Lower Austria.

I do not remember my accident at all. My first clear memory is from the hospital, lying in a bed in the corridor in the hospital. I was talking to a young lady who had been in Trondheim and could speak Norwegian; I think she was part of the ambulance crew and wanted to keep company to me while I was waiting for something. I remember that being in the hospital corridor felt somehow pleasant because it was like awakening from a messy dream. Not a nightmare, but kind of unpleasant, messy dream where many things were happening and I did not understand what's going on. I somehow seem to remember a short episode right after the fall, hearing my climbing partner dart around and saying something in alarmed voice. I think that was when he was arranging for help to come. There are only voices in this memory, nothing visual, no feelings, no pain. Then nothing but the messy, un-specific dream, until my awakening in the hospital. I seem to recall knowing that something has gone wrong with our climbing and feeling battered, having dirty hands with blood stains and also feeling that my ankles were not all right, but not feeling too alarmed. I was hoping that this was nothing that could not be solved until Sunday morning when I was scheduled to fly to a meeting in Spain. I was also visited by the police, but as I could remember nothing there was nothing much to talk. That was the first time I again can remember having talked with my climbing partner. Then some x-rays and magnetic resonance images, and a cast was made to my left foot (I do not remember the order though). The guy operating the MR machine was speaking Swedish with me. Afterwards I find it bit amazing that I was in capacity to communicate, apparently sensibly, in Scandinavian languages in that generally a bit confused state of mind. It's also funny that both those encounters happened during the first evening, as afterwards all my contacts with the staff and fellow patients were in English or more often in German which I do not master too well.

At around 11pm my bed was pushed to the room that would be my home much longer than I could have expected. Against my expectations (feeling battered, confined to lying on my back, and in room with many other people, and probably receiving an infusion), I slept reasonably well until the very early wake-up at 6am that is said to be characteristic to Austrian hospitals. I felt sick enough to realise that I should not worry about coming days, catching my plane next morning and missing the meeting in Spain and so forth. My spirits improved when I had chance to wipe myself clean - my hands were pretty dirty from lying on dusty ground and still had some bloody stains.

Breakfast was brought to front of me but then taken away - as a preparation for operating my leg, as during operation day they do not allow you to eat. Instead, I was pushed to MR imaging room again. However, it turned out that there was small blood lesion in my brain that prevented operation that day, and got my breakfast in the end. Also my ankle was very swollen.

The first day was not so bad. I could not get away from my bed, but I did not have too much pain. My ankles were uncomfortable, and I had some muscle pain, but nothing serious. I had lost my glasses though, and only had my prescription sunglasses. I got several visitors, and they bought me new glasses. Part of the day I spent sleeping.

Swollen state of my ankle prevented the operation for more than a week. Uncertainty about when the operation would take place was the worst thing. Otherwise it was not so bad. I had my cell phone and fixed line that enabled me having contacts with my wife, family and friends. I got visitors every day, and I got my laptop such that I could watch movies and listen to music and work a bit. I even had some work meetings with visiting colleagues. I also contributed little to the meeting which I was supposed to have joined. This happened through telephone, and sending some files with the help of my colleagues - luckily there was no internet available, and I could not be disturbed by incoming business email. On third day after the accident, I got permission to leave the bed with the help of a support. Having possibility to access toilet was a great increase in my personal freedom, even though three times per day I was receiving infusion that tied me to the bed for a while.

There was lots of people coming and leaving the room during the first days. There were five beds in total, and all of them were occupied most of the time. During night there was lots of snoring, but during daytime it was nice to have some social interactions with fellow patients. Nurses were nice and friendly. The chief doctor made a quick visit to the room once per day, and appeared busy and iron-faced, but there was another doctor who was more attentive and also spoke good English.

Ten days after the accident, the operation finally got green light. So no breakfast the following morning. Instead infusion and funny underwear and stocking to my healthier leg. The feeling of progress raised my spirits, although it was also exciting. I got full anesthesia so I remember nothing about the operation. When waking up I felt normal, although I was half asleep most of the day. In the evening I tried eating a little but that triggered some nausea. My leg was without cast but thickly covered in bandage, with a hose leading away goo from the wound.

Two days after the operation it was time to remove the hose and some "staples" that were apparently used to temporarily help closing the wound. This was the definite low of my hospital stay. Pulling the hose felt quite unpleasant but it was very quickly over. However, pulling away the staples was very painful. The first set came out with some resistance but it was not quick and the pain was numbing. The second set was even worse, and refused to come out. The pain was horrible, and the doctor gave up. Imagine that there is a row of hooks in your skin and then somebody tries to pull them straight out. I was left in state where I had to concentrate hard and focus all my attention to the infusion bottle in order not to burst in tears. Nurse came with a new infusion, and after a while I started to feel drunken, in the end pretty strongly so. The doctor made a new attempt with the staples, and they came out without much pain. The rest of the day I spent half asleep.

A week after the operation I was allowed to leave the hospital. I got all the X-rays, and a certificate showing that there 12 screws in my heel, the longest them being 5 cm in length. They said that I had to keep the cast in total 6 weeks, and go without loading the foot for two more weeks. The screws could be removed after about half a year.

After 2.5 weeks inside, fresh air felt amazing. And also the bright colours - it was a beautiful early autumn day. My colleagues had arranged welcoming cake and coffee, and that felt very touching. My flight to Norway was quite smooth, with the special service offered to handicapped passengers. It was also necessary as in the hospital I had only made short trips with crutches. My friend picked me up from the airport, and he had also did some shopping.

However, coming home was a bit of a down-tour. My wife is still living in Cambodia, and I was home alone. I had been away much longer than planned, and it was cold and moist inside. I quickly realized how difficult simple things can be when you have to go with crutches. Anything requiring hands requires standing and jumping on one foot, but also my healthier leg was hurt and it is painful to stand on it for long. I'm also living some distance from the nearest bus stop, and was forced to rely entirely either on taxis or friends driving me somewhere. I have never before experienced such feeling of helplessness. And while I'm getting more experienced with crutches, I cannot say that neither of my legs is feeling better than when leaving the hospital.

So how did the accident happen? As said, I do not remember the incident myself. Even the memory of the first climb of the day was first very much like a dream, and only after confirming with my climbing partner could I be sure that it really happened. After the first climb, I vaguely remember showing the topo to my climbing partner. Had he looked it better, he would have seen that it is one pitch route, something which was too obvious for me to point it out - the first route was a 2-pitch route, which is not so common in crags in the area. However, as I was going to lead he was just happy with my choice and did not register that the route had only one pitch.

I vaguely also remember thinking in the beginning of the route that the turn in the route made one third up the wall would be causing some drag in the rope - although I'm not sure about whether this memory is real. After that, I have absolutely no memory of the climb. My partner told me that the top anchor is on a ledge, such that there was no visual contact between us. When I announced being self belayed, he removed the belay device - sensible thing to do when seconding a multi-pitch route. Why I then did not manage to communicate that I was coming to the rope, nor did not notice before committing myself that the rope was not getting tight when I was putting some load on it, I do not know. I am well aware that many accidents are caused by very trivial mistakes, and I consider myself as being a security conscious climber. Especially as there was no visual contact, I would expect that I did really double-check that the belayer is ready before going to the rope. Perhaps there was enough friction in the rope (which was going over the edge of the ledge, and there was a possible drag-creating turn of route further down) that it felt comfortingly tight, and whatever verbal communication there was was ambiguous?

I landed on my feet, says my climbing partner. It seems likely that the friction in the rope did slow down my fall a bit, and likely also helped me to stay upright. The rock face is pretty vertical, and it would have been a free fall otherwise. I had scratches on my front side, lost my glasses, and at some point hit my head slightly. I did not wear helmet - the routes here are well bolted, the rock is solid, and I was climbing well within my limits. I was unconscious for a while. My partner had to guide the rescue team to the spot, and upon return he said I had already regained my consciousness.

Probably because of my loss of memory, the accident does not emotionally connect with climbing in my mind. It must have been much worse to my climbing partner who had to see it happen. I do think I will continue climbing once I can, and I certainly will be more careful. I promise to wear helmet. And I feel unhappy being a new line on long list of unnecessary climbing accidents caused by being sloppy with the basics, this time with the basic communication.

3 November 2007

Things are gradually getting better. On October 8th I had the first control, and the healing appeared to progress well. The next check-up was scheduled to take place in about four weeks, after which I would likely be able to start walking again. But the big thing was getting rid of the cast, which makes sleeping more pleasant. But the main improvement was that my wife came to visit me for two weeks. Being together is great under all conditions, but my helpless state made it even better.

The wound has now closed, but my foot is still rather swollen, and the ankle is rather stiff, having no more than half of its original movement range. The check-up is next week. My feelings about walking are bit mixed – a big step towards normal life, but I can see that normal walking is still some time ahead and the start will be difficult.

21 June 2009

I have been climbing for more than a year now. The first climb was indoors, and I was more focused on how my ankle felt (awkward) and avoiding loading it much, rather than thinking my previous climb. However, things improved rather quickly, and in summer 2008 I red pointed my first grade 7 (Norwegian scale) route. All in all, the accident has not influenced my climbing much. My ankle is stiff, but I notice that more while walking to a wall than on the wall. My everyday life is little affected, but running is out and longer walks tend to manifest themselves as strong but temporary pain the following morning.

25 August 2009

I marked the second anniversary of my accident yesterday by climbing on a small local crag. Two first routes were miserable. I do not remember when I had felt so much like climbing well below my level. Usually my fingers do not sweat and I hardly ever use chalk, but yesterday I felt I should have brought my chalk bag. Admittedly, I have climbed very little in July-August, so my shape could be better, and it has been wet and the rock was perhaps bit moist, the friction did not feel good. Usually too little climbing shows in endurance, but yesterday also my technique was absent. Luckily, the last route was a bit more successful, albeit with top-rope. Otherwise, it's the same. If I'm not working much, I do not notice my ankle much. But relatively little walking is enough for inconvenience the following day. After summer vacation - with a fair bit of walking - I felt like contacting the doctor but not it does not feel necessary, inconvenience is mostly moderate and I have little hope that anything else than fusing the sub-talar joint could be done, with the associated hassles.