Yes, I do always wear a helmet!

Summer, 1995

At least I'm able to write this today, thanks in part to luck, good people, and my helmet. What happened? Read on.

The Trailblazers put on the annual Halloween obstacle and poker ride just last weekend. Rachel, Pat and everyone else once again put on a great ride for all. There were a ton of riders- I don't know the exact count. (60 perhaps? Wow!) The club is getting really good at putting on these rides! I had a great time, up until the fifth obstacle.

Judy and I rode Warpaint and Sqoundrel on a training ride of sorts. Judy, to help get the War Pony to walk, and me to help the big Q relax. We started out late, and had a fine time through the first four traps. In fact, I was doing exceptionally well- much better than I anticipated. We climbed up to the top of the mountain, and got in line for the fifth obstacle- the jacket pickup. Q-bird and I went ahead and walked up to the rock monument where the green ski parka was hanging. He walked right up and stood by the jacket. I reached over and shook the jacket slightly- he looked over and did not seem to care. I then reached over and picked it up. Sqoundrel did not like that! He spun a 180, and began to run away, and I mean run away fast! Of course he would not choose to run up the hill, no, he had to take off straight down the mountain. By the time I realized what was going on, he had gone about thirty feet. I pitched the jacket that was still terrorizing him, and then realized I only had one hand on the reins! STUPID! I always put both reins in one hand when I do something like drink, look at a map, whatever. I groped for the left rein, and might have been able to get it, except he hit the steep downhill at a dead run. I simply lost my balance and fell off while he was running as fast as he could down a steep hill.

Thud! Boy, I hit the ground hard. I landed on my right hip, and then began rolling head over heels down the hill. I bounced along for what seemed like an eternity. Funny- this was just like falling off of my dirt bike at speed, except I was not wearing my motorcycle racing body armor. At least I did not get hung up in a stirrup, or get trampled by the horse. Sqoundrel circled the group of riders and came right back over to the other horses.

My dirt bike crashing instincts took over- as I lay there on my stomach, I quickly felt for everything. There are the toes, the feet, the knees work, fingers have feeling, I rolled over a bit. At least there was nothing really wrong. I did not move, I just lay there taking stock of my now highly-whacked body. After about 30 seconds the first people got to me, and there was Judy sitting just at my left. I raised myself up to my elbows, and my entire upper body began to shake. As she made me lay back down, people were asking me what day is it, do I know where I am, etc. I answered everything fine, and told everyone I was OK, just banged up. I remained on the ground for a while, and then stood up with everyone's help. I walked over to a tree stump in the shade to sit down.

Everyone was helping me out, trying to decide if they should call the helicopter or something. I told everyone I was fine, and at the time, even considered continuing the ride. Rita's son John-Michael was sitting next to me, telling me I was going down the mountain in the truck. I said, no, I felt OK. He had just caught me after I passed out for a couple of seconds. As he was removing my sunglasses, I told him I felt fine. They sat me down on the ground and gave me some water.

I was dreaming! I remember a very short vivid dream, although I don't remember what the dream was about. It was that kind of dream you have when you are totally asleep. The next thing I know, I am waking up as four men are carrying me physically towards John-Michaels truck. I said "What are you doing? I am fine! Put me down!" "No, you are messed up!" they said. John-Michael has assessed the situation, and tells me I am going down to see Rita (who is a nurse), and we are going now. I said OK, since JM was going to take me down hog tied in the back if I had refused. Judy is there, saying get him down there now! She and Sally Pringle led the horses back down to camp to avoid a trailer ride down that mountain.

John-Michael whisked me down to Rita. He kept making me talk, and answer questions to make sure I was still coherent. When we found Rita, she put on her nurse hat and checked me out. She did all the tests, and it looked like I was not going to need an ambulance. She got me set up in my camper with ice packs and water, with strict instructions not to eat or drink anything, and no sleeping! I was dingy, because the first thing I asked Rita for was a Coke. She said no. I think I asked her again, and she said no again. Judy should be back in a while, and as soon as she returned, she would take me to the hospital for a check. Passing out is not a good sign, but I had not experienced the other two sure signs of a concussion- dizziness and nausea. And it was not until I tried to climb up into the camper that my brain started to acknowledge what my body was telling it. OUCH! My right hip was a disaster- it looked like a train had bounced off of it. My right hand was swollen up, I had a major abrasion on my elbow that was bleeding, and my left ankle was swelling and very sore.

I some how made it to the bed in the camper, and put ice on my head and hip. Rita and son kept coming back to make sure I was awake. After a while, Judy and Sally made it back to the camp. I tried to sit up to talk to Judy, and felt bad. Not only did it take me a minute to sit up, my head started to pound, I saw the proverbial stars, and I started to sweat. At least I "seemed normal" to Judy when I was talking to her. Poor Judy was trying to get directions to the hospital from two different people, and was worrying how to get the truck out of camp, and how to park at the hospital. John-Michael stepped in and offered to take me in his truck. Rita sent Judy home with the horses, and asked JM to wait at the hospital until Judy got there.

Unfortunately, this was the time that just about everyone saw me- right at my worst. I got help getting out of the camper, and I started feeling really bad. I was so dizzy I could barely stand, and if there was a coke in my tummy I would have puked it all over the place. Every muscle I have seemed to be hurting. My face was "as white as a sheet", and I was having trouble standing. I laid down on the front seat of JMs truck, and he drove me to the hospital. He made it quickly and safely, and remained with me in the waiting room until I went in. (about 45 minutes) He then remained with my wallet, waiting for Judy.

I got checked out big time, 20 X-rays in all. I got plugged into the neat machine that monitors all kinds of things. (EKG, Electro- something, lots of electrodes!) The doctor asked me all the right questions and checked my head and spine carefully. I was in there for about 2 and a half hours, rolling around the hospital on a table with wheels, wearing my little backless gown. This was my first time in a hospital! I didn’t like it much. When I returned from the X-ray room (that was the temperature of my freezer), Judy was waiting for me in my little examination room. It was sure good to see her there. The Doctor told us I was fine. Nothing broken, just (just?) a concussion, a sprained ankle, a whacked hand, and a hip that he said "was going to hurt like the dickens" for a while. He told me I was in very good shape- good heart, pulse, and blood pressure. That was nice to hear.

What have I learned from this episode? Not a lot, really. I just got unlucky and crashed. I certainly don't blame Sqoundrel. I know he runs when he spooks, and I have stopped him the other times. If I had not dropped the reins, or if he had run up the hill, or if I did not take the jacket, or if I had stayed in bed, I would not have crashed. If I, should have, could have, would have, maybe, perhaps- these words don't have any place in this kind of thing. As the man says- you take certain chances when you get on a horse, and when you leave your house.

I have learned there are some great people in the world. (But I knew that).

Rita and John-Michael need special mention. They both genuinely cared about helping me, and would have done the same for some one they did not know. By the way, the Doctor told me that EVERYTHING Rita told me, made me do, and did to me was exactly correct. Handy to have that one around. Can I have a coke now, Rita?

I did not learn to always hold onto the reins, I already knew it. I just diddn't do it. STUPID! Especially since I was attempting to scare my horse. Sometimes even good brains get switched on to stupid mode.

Jay Morris helped Judy get the truck out of the camp, and would probably have driven it to Nevada if she needed it there. Sally Pringle walked my horse down the mountain for me. Jim and Judy Gablehouse held Warpaint and Q-bird while Judy ran over to me while I was down, and they were going to quit the ride to help get us down the mountain. The East Bay Park Ranger was extremely helpful. When Judy drove up to our barn and told people what happened, they took over. They sent her to the hospital while they cleaned, fed, and put the horses away. I can't even count the number of phone calls from many concerned friends.

And what else? Oh, yeah. I'm glad I was wearing my helmet. Sound familiar? Everyone who knows me (or reads these articles) knows I am pro-helmet, and I sometimes get carried away complaining about people who don't wear them. Now I get to join an elite group of riders that I don't want anyone else to join- my helmet probably saved my life. That's not just me, that's the doctor talking as well. As I write this (two days after the accident), my helmet is on its way to the factory for a free inspection and/or replacement. (And I am so sore I can barely type.) When I get back on Sqoundrel next week, and do his first 50 mile race on Nov 5th, I will be wearing a helmet. I hope you will too.

Nick