The purpose of this page is to not only share with you the details of my accident, BUT, to share with you my rehabilitation back to MMI, maximum medical improvement.

This will be a continuing work in progress as memories return, so please keep checking back. I will be making updates and additions, and filling in blanks as my physical energy allows. It is amazing to me how even a simple task can seem like thirty minutes on a treadmill.

On October 27th I was in Chevy Chase, Maryland seeing and my old friend Rob Chaddock after a week of visiting various medcom office's. I was with Dixie in Laramie, Sue in Houston and Dan in Baltimore. I am the medcom corporate officer that goes into the field, works with staff, calls on hospitals, clinics, Physical Therapist and Doctors, and in general, helps to facilitate medcom business. A substantial part of my time is spent in-servicing (teaching) clinicians about, and how to use our equipment. I am the "go to" guy. I probably spend a little less than half my time traveling - but not anymore.

Rob and I had spent Friday evening doing something I greatly enjoy, searching out fine food and fine libations. I was seeking a superlative Margarita in the elegant surroundings at the Willard Hotel (skip the Margarita's here, they actually used Rose's lime juice - If you go to The Willard, stick with the scotch and martini's, actually, they make a very good martini - gin of course, Sapphire, three olives) situated next to the White House and having dinner at the Old Ebbitt Grill in the next block. I spent a few minutes looking at the White House after dinner imagining all the changes our great country was facing and we headed home to be attacked by their two Bassett Hound puppies.

Rob and Rutherford, on the sofa where she was not supposed to be. Rutherford is the Bassett Hound, Rob is the Nebraska fan. Sorry Rob, CU does rule.

Saturday dawned and as Rob is from Nebraska, and most know how I feel about Nebraska football, I left for the airport early afternoon as the OU/NU football game was beginning.

The Saturday afternoon flight was uneventful, the best kind, excepting the haunting words of the United flight attendant as we approached the gate in Denver. He said, "You have now just completed the safest segment of your journey." I felt a chill as his words ricocheted in my mind.

I was driving home after the flight landed and I had my luggage. I had hand carried East Coast bagels and a unique and exquisite chocolate from Baltimore for Sallie on the plane and gently set them in the trunk of my baby. My 1982 633 CSi. My dream car. What an incredible car. I bought racing brake rotors for her - they probably helped save my life.

I called Sallie and asked if she and Linnea wanted to go out to dinner at 3 Margarita's in Loveland. For a chain they have very decent food and GREAT service.

I was headed North on Colorado highway 85 North of Fort Lupton. It was dusk, around 6:45 P.M. I was driving under the posted speed limit of 65 mph. I was traveling at 60 mph. Thoughts of seeing my family and joining them for dinner to share my weeks stories was in my mind when, and here it becomes hazy, I suddenly saw a large black oil related semi-tanker with red trim, I remember the truck was really clean, and surprised that a tanker would be that clean, right in front of me. Amazing what one remembers. I also remember, as I saw the truck, thinking where did it come from AND, why did it not have any lights on! Black truck, red trip, dusk, no lights - lethal combination! The police report said that he just pulled out in front of me. I was driving north, and actually driving under the posted speed limit. I remember thinking that I needed to speed up to get home sooner to see my family. It had almost been a week since I left. The road was clear and traffic was very gentle. Then there was a large black with red trim that just appeared in my path. As I saw the tanker trailer, I stood on my brakes, and again, thank goodness for those slotted brake rotors (they help prevent overheating so you have better stopping ability, the reduce brake fading) I remember thinking (and how odd that I would remember this) how clean the truck was and how pretty it was, the contrast of the red accent and black. The police report said I was originally doing 60, the posted speed limit was 65, and that I had slowed to 40-45 upon impact. The car and I "bounced" "ricocheted" back at an angle into the north bound on coming traffic blocking the highway's oncoming traffic. I remember looking out the my cars driver's window, which had no glass, and seeing traffic headed right for me, one car had slammed on their brakes and was headed for me - sideways. Pretty scary. Fortunately they regained control and swerved around me. I then looked over at the big rig and I distinctly remember the driver of the semi-tanker standing by his rig, holding his hat in his right hand. He then started beating his thigh with his hat shouting , "Damn, damn, damn". To my memory, the driver NEVER came to my car, or my aid. A man appeared at my window and asked if he could do anything. He told me that emergency vehicles were in route. He said he was the Fire Chief for Fort Lupton. He was not there on official business, but happened to be one of the first cars to come upon me. I asked him to call Sallie which he did and tell her that I had been in an accident and would not be joining them for dinner.

The drivers door was jammed and crunched so they used the jaws of life and a power saw to get my door off. I thought my leg was pinned between the dash and my seat as it would not respond to my attempt to move it and I cannot even begin to describe the pain. I did not know that my femur was crushed.

These are the photos that were taken by Flight for Life. Notice the emergency lights and the firemen walking around. You can see in the second photo where the floor was buckled.

The passenger door opened and a rescue worker said that he was going to push me out my door and onto a board and that it was going to be OK and that I should trust him. They had a body board outside my door. They pushed me sideways and pushed me out the door onto the body board. There was that moment of free fall that was disconcerting. They carried me to the ambulance and then I asked for morphine. They said as soon as they had a line started, they would give me some morphine.

Over the next few days, I was asked repeatedly if I ever lost consciousness, and keep saying no, but in hindsight, everything happened very fast. Sallie told me that she and the kids waited in the ER waiting room over three hours to see me, but my memory is that they were there the whole time. So obviously I did lose consciousness a few times.

Flight for Life arrived, I was loaded on and all I really remember was looking up into a women's face that was helmeted with a microphone. I asked for more morphine. We landed at the hospital in Greeley, NCMC, and I was told that my oldest daughter, Annie, was there. I heard someone shout "His daughter is over their and would like to see him." She told me that she saw my bloody body unloaded from the helicopter and wheeled into the hospital. I believe she shouted out, I love you daddy!"

I was rolled on a gurney into ER. I heard someone saw that they had taken GREAT photos from the accident scene that they wanted to use in their training classes. Because of the intensity if the accident, and to show what happens when you wear your seat belt. After I was in ER, many things became a blur. I remember having my clothes cut off like you would peel a banana. I can still see the ER staff using scissors to slice up my jeans, my cashmere argyle sweater, a gift from my son, and the rest of my clothes. I remember laying naked, bloody, and laying on what had been my clothes.

There is a large amount of information still to go here, I just need some energy to get it written. Sorry.

This is the e-mail that Sallie sent out to our staff the next day. As I was under intensive Morphine, her lucid account is more appropriate:

Click to enlarge photos.

Photographs of me taken seven days post

The following were taken a few days after Sallie brought me home from the hospital. About a week after the accident.

Click to enlarge photos.

Sallie drove me to my orthopedics office for one of my follow-up appointments. I was apprehensive anyway, but I felt that I was making progress and that his original pessimistic timetable would be truncated. This was not to be the case. After x-rays were taken, we meet to go over my status. I am seeing him in one (1) month to "discuss" possible weight bearing, I had thought he would OK that today, but no. He stressed that I had had a traumatic accident and it would be a long time healing. I commented that here I was whining when many people were hurt far worse than I was, he did a slow turn and said that was not the case. I had traumatically crushed the largest bone in my body, besides crushing the bones in my face, and no, most people are not hurt worse. His comments finally started seeping into my brain, probably through the crack in my check. Then I foolishly asked when I could resume doing what I do for medcom. I said when can I fly to a city, secure a rental car, rent a room, drive to an inservice at an orthopedic group, and teach. He smiled and said maybe, and I mean maybe, an additional six (6) months. Pass me my prescription of Trazodone.

With that in mind, medcom is looking for a sales manager to help me out by working with our staff in the field and basically taking over what I do. I am able to be working and on the telephone a 1-2 hours a day, but amazingly, I find that it is very tiring, and stressing. I usually have to take a nap. My inability to perform my job is very depressing. The length of rehabilitation is very depressing. As is the rehabilitation itself.

I have a basic philosophy on life of, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. I would be the guinea pig for a project that I started a year ago. Most of you know what a CPM is. For those who do not, it is a machine that moves a specific joint through a prescribed range of motion at a pre-determined speed. I have a specially built knee machine that automatically reverses to retreat when a leg feels that it has been moved to far. It has been in storage and we brought it out and it is the machine you see in the photos above. It is a one of a kind in the world. I originally had it built for an ACL repair/reconstruction experiment, but heck, why not use it on me? Rather than setting the range at say, 0° to 30°, you set the CPM at 0° to 90°. The goal is that when a patient is alert, the patient can control range simply by leg movement. When the patient is medicated, relaxed and/or asleep, the CPM would, theoretically, go beyond the patient's conscious limits. Or, awake, the patient could be continually working passive range of motion. If any orthopedics reading this would like to try this unique CPM, please let me know.

Besides ambulation, one of the most frustrating results of the collision is the trauma that appears to have happened to my brain. My memory has been effected. Peoples names are the most obvious, but just about every aspect of memory seems to have been effected. I was told that this could take up to eighteen months to resolve. I will be seeing a neuro-psych as soon as possible for evaluation.

My injury as filmed the night Flight for Life brought me in. It is a bad film, but you can see the damage.

This is one of the pictures that were taken on the November 20th visit. If you can make it out, the distal head of the right femur head was broken off and split into two pieces. The next 4+ inches was shattered to the point that he could not even put a screw into it. He said that there were basically six large pieces and smaller shards, the next 6+ inches was split into diagonally, bringing us darn close to the proximal end and my hip. So he screwed the distal head together, put in the plate, wired the shards together, and screwed and wired the cracked piece.

Can you believe he does not want be to weight bear?? The nerve. And yes, it hurts like hell.

I do all the cooking for our family. This was the first Thanksgiving in over thirty years that I did NOT cook, as I am not able to get about to cook. Talk about depressing . . .

I had been feeling gradually better. It had been well over a week since I had taken a pain pill. I started experiencing significant pain and as I had finished up my prescription for pain pills I had to renew the prescription. I felt I had regressed in rehabilitation back 2-3 weeks. There was substantial pain from the fracture line. Today is December 10 and I am starting to feel better. Not quite back to where I was, but close. I called the orthopedic clinic and they said rehabilitation is up and down and I was in a down mode and they gave me more Percodans. This rehabilitation process is not what one expects. We all need to increase our sympathy level to our patients.

Turns out, the original repair had failed. I indeed did have a reason for the dramatic increase in pain. While I have had many credible opinions and comments, the end result is that I basically have to start over.

Here are the x-rays from my last follow-up orthopedic visit. I am seeking second and third opinions at this time but the consensus is that there was not adequate proximal fixation. The most distal wire appears to be to tight, and there were only two stainless steel screws at the proximal end. You can see the shift, the two broken screws, the tight wire, and the new fracture.

The scar you see is from 1969, the "zipper" I now have is not visible in this photo.

Click on the link below to learn about developments since the first of the year:

Table of Contents for first page, before second surgery: