Tearing open an unread letter, unpacking from a trip long finished, cracking that dusty chest in the attic. With a light beam on the chest, bright through the soffet that lets it in. That's how writing feels. Maybe one day I'll tell how what happened on a mountain took me to an island. How that beam of light guided me back to the mainland. Back to me. Back to each and every one of you. I want to express gratitude by sharing my new journey. This rusty blog seems like a good place.
Annika and Wyatt helped Hank and I through the initial weeks
On June 20th, I had my right leg amputated below the knee by Dr. Stacey Kessinger. There were no complications during the operation at Saint Michael's Medical Center in Silverdale, Washington. I spent five days in the hospital and the following two weeks with my sister Annika and my nephew Wyatt in Snoqualmie. Now, home in Wenatchee, my recovery continues to go well. I feel strong in body, in heart, and in mind. The love and hope I rely on now was lost for most of the past decade though. Through therapy, hard work, and the support of friends and family I clawed my way back to the land of the living. A place where I can heal.
Back home in Wenatchee with amazing friends
The most challenging part of my amputation has been phantom pain. Crushing, twisting, burning, stabbing, cramping sensations in my foot that doesn't exist anymore. Feeling the brain and the nervous system work out reality has been awe inspiring. As an athlete I've worked to rewire my brain in the past. The mental training sections of
How to Climb 5.12 and
Performance Rock Climbing (welcome to the wayback machine!)
captivated me and helped me past physical barriers. So rather than feel helpless against the ghost pain, I've felt empowered to meet it head on. Now, five weeks post surgery, the phantom sensations have mostly faded. My brain, click by click, has worked through a lot of the confusion. So I'll always check my head. If I need to feel, view, or interprete something differently it's possible I can.
Hank never leaves my side and is always there for snuggles
I'll leave it here for now. Know that all the support is helping me heal. I feel lifted. Thank you to each and every person who is behind me. A million times over. Thank you! Stay tuned for more updates. The pen is moving now and perhaps I'll slowly connect the giant gaps in this story. For any vageuness I apologize. Like I said early in this post, I'm cracking the attic chest, I'm unpacking from a long, perilous journey. Never hesitate to reach out and ask questions. I'll always be happy to answer them. And once more. Thank you!!
My friend Robbie took Hank and I out to the Icicle and then to a picnic with friends
