Still Flying
Sunday, June 18, 2023
From Firefly:
Mal : Well, we're still flying.
Simon : That's not much.
Mal : It's enough.
Walked up to Long Lake last Thu. Good weather, some windchill, lots of snow in the forest. Had some trouble finding the trail through the woods, which was buried in several feet of snow. Sometimes the snow was firm and walkable, sometimes you’d post-hole to your knee, or sink a trekking pole down to the handle. Mostly I looked for reflective diamonds on the trees, marking the winter ski trail.
Took some photos: trees, clouds, snow. Put the tripod away and considered what to do next. I had the feeling I should head back to the car, instead of following the trail toward Isabelle Lake. Niwot Cutoff trail was also an option for returning to Brainard, but I’d checked its trailhead earlier and it was a mess. So I just headed back the way I came, toward the Long Lake parking lot.
Started to notice my arm aching. Thought it was the trekking poles. Then my jaw started to hurt a little, then a lot more. My chest started to tighten. Hmm, these are not good symptoms, I thought. Took a step, stopped to rest. Step, rest, step, rest. Kept sinking in, sliding, stumbling. Fell backward off a log where I’d sat down for a moment. That was a bummer.
Eventually spotted the parking lot, and the diamond trail marker. Found a snow-free edge of the trail, back to the lot.
Knocked at the window of the ranger hut there. Nobody home.
Started the slow and careful 1km trudge along the asphalt back to the car. Arm was numb, jaw ached like crazy, chest hurt. Kept holding my trekking poles behind my back, to rest my arm, let it un-numb a little. Deep breaths, get some oxygen, try to stay calm.
Got to the car eventually, asked it to find a hospital and lead the way.
A tedious drive down Boulder Canyon, with slow traffic and pouring rain, and no cellular signal. At some point I realized the car’s map was out of date, and it was likely leading me to the old location of Boulder Community Hospital on 4th Street, or wherever it was. By the smokestack. Not good.
So instead I routed myself to Avista Hospital, once I got a signal again. At least I knew where it was, and where the emergency room was.
Tons of traffic on US36. I missed a turn at McCaslin and had to backtrack. Finally got onto Dillon and over to Avista.
An ER triage person looked at the EKG and nodded. “This one is real,” she said. Next thing you know, I was on the gurney surrounded by all the people, heading to trauma surgery, where a cardiologist and team removed a blood clot and inserted a stent. Told me that most of my coronary arteries are 70% occluded and I’ll need more stents.
The beginning of another long road.
Still flying though, at least for now. Can’t ask for much more than that.
