On December 7th, 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor Naval Station on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. What many people don’t know is that they also attacked Scholfield Barracks, an Army post in the town of Wahiawa and Wheeler Air Force base also in Wahiawa (they sit side by side). As the Japanese pilots flew in to attack these two bases they passed through Koli-Koli Pass. On one of the mountains was a very tall (about forty feet) cross. They shot down that cross which lies there to this day (as far as I know). A new cross was put up later in 1962. I just read that the Army removed the 1962 cross in 1997 because of the litigation cost of fighting for it to remain.
So what does all this history have to do with me? I shall tell you. On January 20th, 1985 I was 26 years old exploring the mountains in Koli-Koli Pass on Scholfield Barracks. My (ex) wife was stationed there at the time. There were old bunkers and debris from WWII which made it interesting for me (a future college history major).
This same day, Super bowl XVII was being played between the Washington Redskins and the Miami Dolphins. FYI-The Redskins won, 27-17. I was not into watching football (still don’t) on TV and would rather be out exploring and since I was a stay home dad of a toddler (Chris) I was ready for a day to myself.
Where I was hiking was a beautiful area! You could see the ocean and many tall sheer walls of volcanic mountains. To see the ocean, you overlook a navy base, which was the former Naval base in Barber Point.
I was exploring the side of the mountain, which separated the Army and the Navy. I went down the side of a mountain that had loose rock. I got to a point that would have been dangerous to go further so I turned around. This is when I made a mistake that would affect me for the rest of my life.
Instead of going up the way I went down, I decided to climb a steep portion that was pretty much straight up. As I ascended about ten feet I reached for a handhold that was a fist sized rock. As I pulled on the rock to pull myself up the rock broke free causing me to fall backwards. (It’s funny; in thinking back I can almost see this in slow motion. I grab rock-look at it perplexed-say a bad word-fall). As I was falling backwards I turned myself 180 degrees in the air so I could land face toward the down slope. When I hit the little ledge I was on I tucked and rolled to break my fall.
The problem with this strategy was the ledge was only about three feet wide so I went right over. The next 5-10 seconds are still pretty vivid in my head. Some people lose this kind of memory after a tragic accident like this-I've retained it. When I went over it was not a straight, over the edge, free fall base jump type of cliff. It was more of an uncontrolled, butt over heals, rapid tumble. If I were to guess the degrees of the slope it was around forty degrees.
That tuck and roll went on for about 700 feet by guesstimate of the Army medics who rescued me. I remember praying as I tumbled asking God to intervene and stop my rapid descent. That prayer was answered.
What a ride! When I stopped I was so dizzy that I could not see a thing. I stopped with my legs down hill, sitting on my butt. As I sat there, spinning like I was on the Round Up at a carnival I all of a sudden regained my vision. It was not a gradual- It stopped instantly! Then, something inside my brain told me to turn around, “NOW!” and look up the mountain. I turned just in time to see a piece of rusty corrugated sheet metal about 3 x 5 foot, charging toward my neck that I had knocked free in my tumble. I ducked and shoot my forearm up like a karate master would block a high punch. All this happened within a second or two.
I deflected the sheet metal off my head, which could have done considerable damage to my neck, maybe even severing my carotid artery. As soon as the metal was past me, my head continued it’s dizzy spinning. What the heck? Why would I regain my vision for a split second, look up from where I came from, just long enough to deflect the metal, and then start spinning again? As you will read, this is just the beginning of many miracles on the side of that mountain and in Tripler Army Hospital.
Gradually the spinning subsided and I could see where I was. Which itself was rather confusing to me because where I stopped was steeper than where I came from and there was no reason for me to stop where I did. But thankfully I did because facing me, about ten feet directly in front of me, were Volkswagen sized boulders. This could have, should have, been my introduction into head banging. Party on Garth!
Wow, another miracle! I then heard a voice from above. Well, it’s not what your thinking. It was not God but they were certainly sent by God to watch over the bonehead that was exploring on the mountain-that being me of course. “Are you OK down there?” I heard. I looked up and could barely see a couple sitting on a ledge peering down on me. “Ya, I think I broke my leg though.” I said as I played with what appeared to be another knee joint mid way down my left thigh.
The guy that yelled down to me was a young Navy Lieutenant with his girl friend. Thank God for romance otherwise I would have died on the side of that mountain. Did God place them there at that time on that day for a purpose? I think so. The Lieutenant raced to the guard gate that separated the two bases and had the MP call for help.
“Weird.” I thought as I moved my thigh up and down looking at my broken leg. Cool! My first broken bone! I then regained a little common sense and stopped playing with my broken leg. I learned later that I not only broke it but I shattered it (commuted fracture) in about 3-5 pieces. It’s amazing it was not a compound fracture (bones sticking out) after tumbling that far- another miracle? Are you keeping count? By the time I’m done I’ll make a cat jealous that it only has nine lives.
As I’m sitting on the side of the mountain playing with my broken leg it never really occurred to me at the time that I should be in a lot of pain- I wasn't. (A few years ago I saw a car accident. I was the first responder and assisted the fire department by securing a young woman’s head while they extradited her from the car. She was in a great amount of pain and I tried to comfort her as much as possible. She had an obvious fracture in her left femur near where I had broken mine. She was in a great amount of pain.)
About a half hour later I heard the sound of a Huey helicopter- having been an Army husband on an active Army base and previous active Air Force Airman I recognized the sound. Soon that helicopter was hovering over me as two medics rappelled out of the helicopter to get to me.
"Hey, how you doing?" the medic said as he approached me huffing and puffing from the climb up to me. "I’m OK but I think I may going into shock." I said. I had almost cut my jeans off around my thigh but decided that it may help in splinting and controlling internal bleeding.
They proceeded to hook me into the basket to be lifted up into the helicopter. I had to assist a little with my broken leg because they didn't splint it or my neck-not good on their part but all is well. No draim bamage.
I remember lifting my head to peer over the side of the basket as I was lifted up. I wasn't going to miss the scenery from this angle. I had always wanted to ride in a helicopter but not this way.
They flew me to Tripler Army Hospital in Aiea, HI. They then took me from the helicopter to the ambulance then a short drive to the emergency room.
As I lay on the table with doctors and nurses all around I thought of the movies you see were the camera shot is from the perspective of the patient- it was just like that. I was looking up at doctors and nurses all around you, working on different areas of my body with a doctor giving orders. Nurses admiring my muscular and chiseled body. (Well, not really but it's my story) IV inserted, catheter in place-still, I was still not in pain.
My wife (ex now) got the call about me from the Military Police and drove the hour to the hospital leaving Chris with friends. Christy was about eight months from being my first daughter at this time.
When Sue got there she assisted the staff by cleaning my numerous cuts and abrasions. That lava rock did a job on my back, right knee, and right arm. It probably looked like I had a fight with a cheese grater and lost. I also had to have several staples put in my scalp on the top of my head because of a bad laceration-still, no pain.
I was admitted and put on a ward with many others. I was scheduled for surgery to repair my shattered femur but developed complications that had me spend two weeks in ICU fighting for my life. I developed a fat embolism (pulmonary embolism) that went to my lungs. My lungs got tired of fighting and said, “Screw it, I quit”. They shut down so I was intubated and put on 100% oxygen. I found out a few years later that my heart also gave up-three times! But you can't keep a good man down and I survived the attempts of my body to quit. The staff told me later that my will to fight even amazed them.
They should had giving me a tracheotomy but didn't. With being intubated for two weeks I lost my voice when they took the tubes out. As I regained my voice I sounded like Barry White. Alas, I didn't keep my sexy male voice and start a singing career. I got the same one back. Dang it!
I was told by the doctors later that the severity of my pulmonary embolism syndrome should have ended with me six feet down under and I'm not talking about Australia. They even had the Red Cross call my mom in Tucson and tell her that if she wanted to see her son alive then she needs to get there ASAP!
While in ICU I remember a few things. One was a pretty nurse that told me I had a nice chest. That's good for recovery.
I also remember them sucking out my lungs. This did not feel good. Though I was drugged up on Morphine and Valium I still remember that pain. With the drug cocktail I was on I remember a dream I had. The nurses told me that I needed to use this device called a Spiro-meter to help my lungs. At the time the Bill Cosby show was on TV in which he played a doctor. In my dream, the good doctor said I didn't need to use that stupid device. So when I was woke up to use it I refused because Bill Cosby said I didn't need to. The nurses must have thought I had brain damage. I ended up getting intubated again because of that. One other thing I remember in ICU is a guy in a bed in front of me that broke his back or neck because they had him on this bed that flipped him. Other than that- I slept for those two weeks with drug assistance and don’t remember much else while in ICU. In-between moments of conscious I would watch my vitals and try to control them. I was able to lower and raise my heart beat a few beats per minute. This was my entertainment.
I finally made it out of ICU and my mom stayed with me for about two weeks. One time my mom was taking me for a walk throughout the hospital- she pushed me in the wheelchair with my left leg out like a battling ram. (I actually used it that way later to get through doors. Little running start and Bam! Hit the door to open it.) I didn't need no sticking Handicap button for the doors.
During this walk I kept asking my mom to slow down because I was having hard time breathing. I thought she was sprinting down the hallway which would have been quit a sight itself. It felt like I had my head out the window of a car going 70 mph down the interstate.
X-rays showed that my left lung collapsed 50%. Two days later my right one went 30%. Yep, bi-lateral phemothorax. The surgeon came to my room to insert chest tubes. This was not fun!
They gave me Demerol but by this time it wasn't very effective because I've been giving it so often. I had to hold on to the triangle above my head so the surgeon could access the proper spot. My hands were sweating so much I had to wear rubber gloves. This is the process of inserting a chest tube. First you have to know whether it’s a phemohorax or hemophemothroax-the difference being blood-hemo. Then find the correct ribs-injection to numb the area-cut in-between ribs-put in rib spreader-spread ribs (yes, it hurts-a lot!) insert tube- put other end in water stop- go to gas station and pressurize to 75psi. Okay, the pressure part is not true.
Repeat these two days later for right side. I had them in 7 (right) and 10 (left) days, which I was told about twice as long as normal. I figure, why do things half way. If you’re going to get a bi-lateral phemothorax then do it right.
Well, my lungs finally filled back up so its time to remove chest tubes. One step I forgot is that they suture the area in a way that they just pull it shut after yanking the tubes out. This hurts, very, very much! It's like someone stabbed me with an ice pick. The stinging sensation sucked but only lasted a half a minute. Repeat for other side a few days later. Same pain sensation for removing drain tube from femur after surgery a few years later. OUCH!
Ever week I would be given a shot of Demerol and taken down to orthopedics to change my cast. They would wheel me down and I would lie there for hours until I got in. By this time the Demerol had worn off and I really needed it, as you will read. They removed my old cast reveling my atrophied leg and then proceed to put a new cast on. Simple you think- not quit. The doctor had to push on each side of my femur to try straighten the femur while the plaster dried. That hurt!
One time a nurse knocked over the water stop to my chest tubes and it shattered on the floor. I thought I was going to die but it was not big thing. Another time a half brain dead doctor was trying to figure out to move me from my bed to another bed with a post in the middle. She didn't want to lift my bad leg up. Finally I interjected and said, "If you wheel me to the other side I can lift my good leg over." Duh!
So now I've finally made it through all this and I'm still kicking...at least with one leg. I'm now lying in traction; a titanium rod is through my Tibia, which is connecting to weights to keep my femur straight. I lie there and lie there and lie there, day after day, week after week and month after month. Finally I tell the doctors that I have a family and I could just as easy lie like this at home as I could here in a ward full of other guys that snore and scream and use my pee pot as they walk by.
So I sign a constant form against the wishes of the docs and go home. Sue’s mother (my mother-in-law) flies down from Alaska and stays with us a while to help out. God bless her.
Since then I have had many surgeries repairing what I broke. A couple years after my fall I had an osteotomy on my left femur because the new bone had grown into my muscle and I could not bend it more than forty-five degrees. They removed part of my femur and inserted a titanium rod (called Russell Taylor Nail) and two interlocking screws near my knee. I had this in for a few years while the new bone grew in and then had it removed a few years later (I kept the parts).
A few years later I went for a check up with another doctor. Some of the staff had heard of me and what I had defeated. They had given me the nick name of the, "Miracle Man".
Many years ago I started to have left ankle problems so I saw a podiatrist where he discovered a previous break in my ankle that was not found at the time of my accident-it made since. Since then I've had many surgeries on my ankle to help with alleviate pain. One surgery removed debris-while in there the surgeon took a picture of a dime-sized hole in my cartridge. This only lasted about a year so I had an experimental surgery through the University of Iowa. They put an external skeleton device (external fixator) on my leg screwing into my Tibia in three places and put metal wires through my foot in six places to pull my ankle away from my Tibia. The idea was to form a gap for it to heal. It had worked with others but not me. But I did have a lot of fun freaking people out with the gross looking device on my leg.
A few years later I had the Talus fused (arthrodesis). This didn't quit do it either so a few years after that I had my whole ankle fused. This has helped the pain but I’m getting pain from different areas now. I almost had it amputated last time and sometimes wish I had.
I got Hepatitis C from all the transfusions and a few years ago did a six month treatment which got rid of the virus. This is another long story in itself.
You can call some of this luck, but the odds of all this happening with the unexplained things that happened would be hard to calculate. I call these miracles, just as my physicians did. They knew that it was out of their hands and that a higher power (God) was taken over.
So that was my story. I was one lucky man who God wanted to keep around for a while longer. For what, I don’t know.
