Paul's Letter to Loved Ones -- 13 July 2008

Dear Friends,

I have not been in touch with you for several days, because of a very weird and not-very-pleasant experience I have had. On Tuesday evening (8 July), around 10pm, I was flying around my house being chased by two Boston Terriers who wanted the toy that I was teasing them with. As I was zooming through the kitchen, I slipped on a patch of water, after which my head bashed the panel over the oven and then I slumped to the floor, where I passed out for a bit. When I woke up I did not know how long I had been unconscious. I did know this: I could barely move, I had no feelings in my arms, hands, legs, and therefore I could not move. I also knew this: no one would be physically coming to my home for me until 4pm the next day: a high school classmate who was picking my up for a Bar-B- Que we were attending on early Wednesday evening. To the best of my knowledge I spent 18 hours immobile on the floor. Of course my dogs licked my hands and face, and I did have a rather enforced time of introspection. When my friend Dave arrived at 4pm, I was awake and mentally lucid. I said "Dave, get me out of here".
He said, "There is no way that I can get you out of here myself, I'm calling the paramedic squad". Two people arrived, and they were brilliant but they waited for more help. When the squad of 8 people was assembled, they got me to the ambulance en route to Hamot Hospital ER in Erie. The rest is a bit of a blur, because I was on a gurney being wheeled everywhere. At about 9:30 that night, the neurosurgeon operated on my spinal cord, which decompressed a portion of it in order to allow more blood and other healing elements to flow and nourish the damaged spinal cord. The next morning I had a much more simple procedure. A very fine screen was inserted in my thigh near the groin to preclude large clots from flowing to my heart or brain.

Since then I have been in the ICU which is a kind of highly monitored dormitory for accident victims. I am confined to my bed attended to by a talented staff of nurses and practitioners, who have been marvelous in attending to my needs. In addition, my beloved godson, John Chapman, and his mother, Nancy Chapman, have been living in my house taking care of my pets, and providing a veil of love, devotion, and concern.
It is now Sunday morning I am still in intensive care and will be for several more days. The next major chapter of this adventure will be my admission to a rehabilitation hospital for major physical and emotional therapy to prepare for the running of my next marathon. That stay will probably last into September, perhaps longer. I know this: If I can begin serious running at age 40 and still run thirteen marathons, I feel I have the strength, perseverance, and dedication to see this issue to a successful conclusion. You might be thinking, "How is he able to be writing this on a computer". I am not. I am dictating this to my godson John who might become my amanuensis (look it up!).

There are probably a thousand more things I could say, but you need your sleep too. If necessary there will be more news but if you here none, assume that things are going well.

Paul