Many of you know I was traveling to Kyrgyzstan to ski tour the Tian Shan mountain range this last week and the week coming up. I made it to Kyrgyzstan and I was supposed to be there for another 3 days, but here I sit in a hospital in Dubai in the desert instead. If you would have asked me 2 weeks ago to make up the most absurd, unbelievable story ever, I couldn’t have conjured up the fairy tale, somewhat nightmare I’m sitting in today. I’m loosely using the term “fairy tale” as it’s pretty far from that.
Needless to say, I just woke up, it’s about 6am Dubai time and I’m laid up in a hospital bed. I can’t use my right arm (so writing this is fairly comical), my chest feels like a freight truck has ran over it, 6 times and then backed up over it and peeled out on it, and my face looks like I fought 10 UFC fights in a row, losing all rounds… Badly. I will say though this is one of the nicest hospitals I’ve ever been in, honestly it makes any medical unit in the US look like Toys R Us. I guess being one of the richest nations; Dubai should have more than just an indoor ski resort and the highest building in the world.
So, how in the hell did I end up here?”…
You’d think I was ripping some crazy line down a mountain on my skis and kicked off an avalanche or fell while climbing up a ridge, well, all of those scenarios seem believable and most definitely would make a better story, but the reality is, I never clicked on one ski while I was in Kyrgyzstan. The truth is, the trip was one headache problem after another, from delayed flights, canceled flights, lost bags for days, major language barriers and general “round pegs in square hole” scenarios, things just weren’t matching up.
So our group of 7 was split up into 2 groups, the first group, Kevin, Jerod and Megan ended up leaving earlier than the rest of us to see Istanbul on a long layover for a few days and check out Bishkek for a few days after before meeting with us and ultimately making our way into the mountains. This first group ended up meeting with our friend Brandon who is in the Peace Corp and lives in Kyrgyzstan. Our group, myself, Nayla and Adam ended up meeting them later in Bishkek. Days after we showed up, the first group ended up leaving from Bishkek to Karakol earlier than us, as our bags had still not shown up yet and we felt bad they had to keep waiting for us. The bags did however show up at 3:30 am the next day. We were so excited when they finally arrived, we almost felt lucky as we could catch up with the rest of our team so we could all tour in together to the yurt (large cavas tent in the mountains) to start our fun.
We gathered our bags and took a few hours straightening all of our gear for the next week in the mountains. We used our hotel to get us taxi service from Bishkek to Karakol later that day, which is a fairly treacherous 6 hour drive through mountain passes and snow covered roads. Understand we are in old USSR and Kyrgyzstan was used as a stopping point for military for almost 100 years for Russia. It literally has the infrastructure of the moon, as in nothing. No plows, no salt, no road maintenance, no nothing really, well at least by our standards… Also machismo and grandiose ego from the men is very culturally acceptable, so driving slow, cautious and safe just doesn’t happen. It offends them to ask to slow down, and if you do, prepare for them to prove to you how “manly” they are by driving faster. This concept is silly to us in a non-third world or developed nations, but to them it’s their cultural norm.
So as we swerved onto oncoming traffic, horns blazing, speeds that are unacceptable and all of this done on roads with ice and snow, the next sentence shouldn’t come to any surprise. The group of 3 of us and one Kyrgyz driver fish tailed and slid off the road on to the snow covered berm, and hit 3 frozen-unmovable trees head on. I saw it all happen as I was in the front passenger seat. I felt the back end slide out, then the driver over correct, then us veer off the road at about 60-70mph to our final abrupt resting point. I remember thinking, this snow on the side of the road will have to slow us down, but I didn’t. Seconds later, I saw our destiny of smashing into these 3 trees that all shared the same root system and they were coming faster than I perceived possible. I’d love to sit here and write that my life flashed before my eyes, but it didn’t. That seems too simple and too much of a cliché. What I do remember is quickly, literally all of this happening in less than half a second, figuring out how to brace myself, almost putting myself through the motion before it happened to keep myself safe.
Then it happened, the 3 trees I saw destined in my future hit my side of the car first. I remember seeing the trees really close, hearing the crunch and milliseconds later the smashing sound, then nothing. The next conscience moment was me coming to, screaming and yelling for my life as I was pinned to the front of the dash. The dash that was once 3 feet from me, was now killing me. My seat belt which was the reason I could scream for my life and ultimately probably saved me, was slowing suffocating me and stealing every last breath. I remember the absolute panic of, please don’t tell me I’m going to die from suffocating after surviving this horrific crash by my seat belt. I screamed for someone to give me a knife and for someone to help. The next few hours are a blur, but I was told 2 men pulled me from the gap which was once my door and pulled me out. I got out and walked around, I had so much adrenaline rushing through my body I felt nothing. I was bleeding more than I ever bled before, my shirt and pants looked like I just left the set of the second coming of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But my main thought that went through my head was, “Doug are you OK?” and I answered without a second thought, “Yes, I’m fine”.
My next course of action was to make sure my friends were OK. I saw my friend Nayla, laying down already on the ground on a sleeping bag, you can tell very frightened and hurt and for good reason. Adam was standing I believe and clearly you could see his shoulder was not well, it was hanging down lower than the other side. Myself, I could tell was very sore and my chest was not good, It felt like all my ribs were broken, but delirious with not really understanding how bad everything really was.
The next chain of events really will, and has altered my thoughts on life and understanding of the world around us.
There is no 911, there is no real ambulance service that picks you up or police that comes to your rescue 2 minutes after your crash here in Kyrgyzstan, especially rural Kyrgyzstan where we were at, there’s none of that. What there is, is other people, regular untrained people. Although I would have loved to have the jaws of life pull me from my choking seat in the front of the car, have perfectly trained fire fighters, police officers and EMT paramedics swiftly carry me off to the closest hospital, this wasn’t the case. Would have it have been better in retrospect? Of course… But being the ever learning and hopeful-positive person I can be. Minutes after the crash, I felt the shear caring will of humans and general rawness of us all, and for that I’m lucky. 2 men pulled me from that wreckage, honestly without them, I wouldn’t be typing this. 2 Russian women drove Nayla and myself to the closest hospital in their car shortly there after. They put their own fur coats off their backs on Nayla and myself in the back of their car, as I bled all over the place, it was about 0-10 degrees. I think of this now, how many people do I know here in the states that would have just turned their eye at me because I would have bloodied up their back seat or fur coats? It’s a sad thought but I’m sure if all of you honestly answered would not be happy to hear your truthful answer. These people didn’t care. So although I might not agree with the bureaucracy and old communistic tones of old Russia in Kyrgyzstan the raw human nature was there and healthier than ever. They didn’t know us, but they did understand we were humans and humans in need with no question or judgment. Who’s 3rd world, us or them?
The next few hours are a complete blur, but a few things do stand out to me. We arrive at the local “hospital”, I put this in quotations as what I understand as a hospital, this was not. This was a falling apart construction zone. If I was to conjure up and create in my brain an idea of a torture hospital for some farfetched horror movie, I couldn’t have come up with something this good. I’m always one to tell a story and use everything in my power to make it most enjoyable to those I’m telling, but I truly do mean this and this is with zero exaggeration this “hospital” was unbelievably unacceptable for what my team needed at this very moment, it was appalling. All I remember is Nayla yelling at me as they are wheeling me away on a torture looking device that I guess was a gurney from the cold war era, was “do not let them give you anything with a needle”, literally screaming it. The whole accident was starting to place its fury upon me and my strong outlook was starting to fade, I was hurt, tired and most of all, so unbelievably scared. I was beginning to live and play out in real life so many of those horror movies I’ve enjoyed my entire life.
They wheeled me from one room to the next, with each being more scary then the next, they asked me to sit up, stand up, lay back down all in Russian and with forceful hand gestures. The only thing I could think was they are injuring me more, did they not see this? I could feel my ribs floating around and they were being rough, almost like they didn’t understand or didn’t care for that matter. Which I guess in retrospect they possibly didn’t. I was speaking English, they were speaking Russian. I don’t like to think this, but I have to as I sensed it, I could tell they were not over our history of our countries heritages, as in our deal being Russia against the USA and vice versa for so many years. We moved on after the cold war, we excelled, we flourished, USSR on the other hand went into major hardship, extreme political unrest and absolute confusion. I could sense with the older doctors and nurses there was a slight chip on their shoulder, when I’d hear them question me, “Americanas” and then some Russian spoken after. I was helpless and at their bay.
I was wheeled into a surgical room, it’s tough to call it that as it wasn’t, it was a drab dirty room with tiles all over it, picture surgical horror movie. Here they are trying to take my two shirts off, I could not as my arms weren’t working and my chest was just too painful to put my arms up, so they cut the two shirts off, I remember thinking, dumb enough, not two of my favorite polypropylene tech shirts, ha. As I looked at the shirts when they ripped them off, I was in shock at how bloody they were; maybe I wasn’t as fine as I thought.
Here was the turning point. I saw the main doctor, pull out a syringe which I’m thinking was Novocain and at this moment my will to survive kicks in overdrive, I yell and scream that I don’t want the needle, they were all confused, I literally pushed it away. At this moment I could see the confusion in the doctors’ face and almost with proving will to show me how dumb I am, he begins to give me 3 stiches in my chin, one right after another. I realize later, the stitching thread used looked like skipping rope and was thick enough to hang a 50lb weight from. The pain from these was excruciating, but I didn’t take what was warned of me, no needles.
I felt a sense of empowerment at this moment that I was in control of my destiny; the simple action of me refusing something, mentally put a foot hold on my sanity in this out of control situation. And then something dawned on me, the reality of the car crash. I’ve spoken to so many people in the last few days from family members to friends, and everyone here who I was traveling with and I haven’t been 100% honest, but I will be at this moment as I sit here laid up almost writing my diary of the situation so I’ll never forget. My situation was a bit more than I told it. I do somewhat remember what happened after the initial hit from the tree or at least I somewhat understand what was happening. I told everyone I blacked out and then woke up, which was a similar story to what Nayla and Adam told, which is consciously true. But the reality is, I feel I made a choice in that car when I was knocked out, this is all very tough to explain and was somewhat in a dreamlike state, but I made the choice, the choice to eventually stop breathing or fight for my life regardless of how difficult it might be. While in this dream like state, going towards the least path of resistance seemed to me the best option, but obviously to the living conscience, that path really does not fit, because that path means there is no more living. But in my whacked out state, that path seem to carry much weight and validity and almost the most intelligence behind it, it was the least path of resistance, it was the easiest.
To write those last few sentences was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do in a long time. To people that know me, they understand I am full of life, I thrive off of the very essence of life and everything that comes with it. So how come the opposite filled my brain with complete logic and understanding? Why that was even an option to me, why did I make it an option? Scary enough I don’t know, but what I do know is the stubborn pain in the ass person I am, prevailed. I didn’t take the easy path, I came to, I screamed for my life and I’m writing this out today. This mental understanding at this moment as I lay in this absurd hospital filled me with all the ammo I needed to see this through, the choice was made, all I had to do was push through, count the seconds and make it home.
Hours later Americans from the Peace Corps showed up at the hospital, they’re faces looked so familiar however I never met them before. I could have jumped up and kissed them if I could; I was so excited that they could translate for us. An hour or so after this, our friends who were in Karakol showed up; again, another reward in a situation that seemed so bleak. I could see in their faces they were scared, probably more scared then us as they just saw the hospital and saw how banged up we were. But they came with good news, the embassy was involved and our travel insurance was made aware, we were getting the hell out of here; a glimmer of hope.
They were kicked out at midnight, but were allowed back at 8am the next day. I don’t remember them leaving as I must have passed out, but I do remember waking up at around 3am really confused but definitely 100% more conscience of the situation, my wits seemed to be with me as well.
The next 3-4 hours were some of the loneliness hours of my life. All adrenaline had worn off and holy $h*t was I sore, I mean to the point I couldn’t even lift my head up without extreme pain. I had no idea where my friends were and no idea where I was, it was dark and I was in a hallway, not a room, on a gurney. I thought to myself, how disgusting are these sheets, were they cleaned? Is this my blood on the sheets? What are those smells? Who are these groaning people scattered all over this building of pain. The nightmare thoughts get worse and worse, I won’t get into the details as it’s something I never want to think about.
I did have a few moments to myself that were very helpful. I visualized myself in shavasana or corps pose in yoga, which technically I was already in. For those that don’t know the position, it’s very simple, it’s where you lay down on your back and somewhat let go and breathe, a simple concept, but something that’s so hard to perfect because of everything that is exterior that affects us. It was all I could do and it did make me feel better, I felt myself mentally melt into the gurney and eventually into the building and the grounds surrounding it. I visualized myself with all my friends and family, no speaking just being with them and truthfully I was with them in spirit, it was an amazing feeling. It was helpful because it made me realize I’m still on earth and still connected to what is so important to me regardless of the situation.
At around 6:30-7am I could hear crying, not sadness crying but pain crying, I thought to myself I can relate. The crying was familiar, it was from Nayla. Don’t get me wrong she’s not a baby and she’s probably one of the toughest women I know with a great positive outlook on life, but I could tell and sense she’s scared and wanted this whole situation over with too. I then heard Adam, they were close, only about 100 feet below me down the hall, this made me feel so much better. I believe they were talking to Nayla’s father on the phone, who is a doctor. I realized Adam had a life line out, his cell phone. I yelled to him and said, can I call my Mom, he said he has about 5% battery life, that was heart breaking. At this moment Nayla yelled out to me saying that her father contacted my Mom and told her what was happening. My heart sank again; I could only imagine what was going through her mind. How dare my actions affect her like this, it just wasn’t fair. For the first time in a long time, I felt major remorse and sadness for something I’ve done. My mother has been nothing but supportive my entire life and above all she has dealt with all of my BS for the last 35 years. To put it lightly I haven’t been the easiest sons to have. I never really took the normal path, I never made it easy for my mother and father I don’t think, never got married, never had kids, never got a normal job, I’ve always been somewhat against the grain. I always have done things differently, and I know for this simple fact she is proud, but I also understand it comes with great consequences and heartache sometimes, like getting in a random car crash in the middle of nowhere with no real medical help. Seriously who pays for a “vacation” to Kyrgyzstan, ha? I’m sure she thinks I should have my head checked…
Minutes later, I realized I had my cell phone charger (both Adam and me have iPhones) with an international adapter with me in my bag I grabbed from the wreckage before we left for the hospital, the luck. I yelled this to Adam, we both gave each other mental high fives, this was another small victory in our screwed up situation. The phone charged for a few minutes and I eventually called my mother, it rang and rang and went to voicemail, I stated a few simple words since I knew she knew the situation, I explained that I was fine and to not worry, and no big deal. I was happy and sad she didn’t answer. Happy since I didn’t have to explain this situation I wasn’t ready to explain and sad I didn’t get to talk to one of the most important people in my support system. I eventually called back a few minutes later and connected with my Mom. Her voice was concerned but supportive. It never ceases to amaze me how this woman can control her wits, it’s unreal to me. I was strong and very generally speaking that I was fine and loved her and I will be home soon. I quickly moved the conversation forward as I could feel the lump in my throat starting to move further to the point of tears and complete breakdown, now was not the time for that, now was the time to get out of this place.
A little after 8am, our friends from our team showed back up to the hospital. They brought clean water, juice and candy bars. It was awesome to see them and exciting to hear news from the outside world. They discussed that our rides back to Bishkek for much better medical attention was coming at noon. There was also going to be 2 ambulances for Nayla and myself because I couldn’t sit up straight and Nayla was fearful of a fractured/broken back. The next 3-4 hours were excruciating long, I just wanted out of this hospital. I could feel sickness and the dead denseness in the air, every minute in there I was getting sicker. We hear news about the embassy and everyone back stateside from our friends, family and other teams of people coming together to get us out of there and on to better medical services.
Finally the ambulances arrive, well one comes and 2 taxis show up. Nayla definitely needs the ambulance as a back injury is a dire situation, Adam and I would just have to suffer through the car ride. Overall the car ride wasn’t too bad, I had laid down in the back seat with my feet up, while the taxi driver raced 4 hours back to Bishkek. Who’d of thought the back of a taxi cab could be a better suited and more safe place than a hospital, I kept thinking. I tried to close my eyes the majority of the time and ignore the surroundings, but I could sense the speed, the aggressiveness and could hear the beeping as we swiftly moved over unsteady snowy ground. I kept thinking to myself, how terrible would it be to get into yet another accident because Mario Andretti in the driver’s seat refused to slow down, it almost made me laugh. Not really.
We were the first vehicle to show up at the nicest hospital in Kyrgyzstan. I could only see up above the windows in the car as I was lying down, but could clearly see this hospital was dilapidated and seriously falling apart. My heart sank again, the realization was getting clearer that I needed to toughen up even more and get out of this country as there were no more options here. I was dragged out of the car, literally, and was placed on another steal gurney. I was wheeled up by 4 men that were far from nurses, doctors or any type of hospital worker, but nothing could have been as bad as what I was just in at the first hospital, or so I thought. It wasn’t worse, but it definitely was equally as bad in its own way. We were all excited as we were told an English speaking doctor worked at this hospital and he was young and very knowledgeable. I meet the doctor, although he was just trying to help, I found it very hard to take seriously a Russian doctor, who spoke somewhat good English, who looked extremely nervous and would constantly contradict himself who didn’t look a day over 25, on how he could actually help our situation. It was definitely time to do something drastic. I did the same routine as the first hospital, deep breathing while he listened to my chest through a stethoscope and then x-rays. He took x-rays, which were non-conclusive, because they were some of the worst x-rays I’ve seen in a long time, you could barely see anything, they seemed over exposed?
I then was wheeled into a room that was freezing cold, like 40 degrees, and from what I could see behind me, there was a guy smoking a cigarette doing clay work? Or something of that extent, washing his tools in the same sink I saw other medical tools in… Honestly it was really sketchy and confusing. I was asked if I wanted some type of pain killer, the man who asked me had a syringe, I absolutely refused again, he also had a look of disbelief, maybe I was insane for denying the pain killer, but I felt now was a time where I needed complete focus, not being drugged up, pain or not. I was then wheeled into an old elevator, where I was moved down one corridor after another until I finally entered this room. The room had 6-7 other patients in it, some with pins/rods sticking out of their legs, others groaning and 1 other clearly insane somewhat making asinine noises. I thought to myself maybe I’m going insane. I then saw it, my proposed bed. A bed, where the sheets most definitely were still the same from the last patient who resided in it, you could see the dankness, the creases, almost see the sickness. At this point I had enough, I wasn’t going through this 1 more minute. I told the nurse to grab my Russian speaking friend Brandon who was down stairs; I needed to see him immediately. I told the nurse not to move me or touch me any longer. I can assure you at this time, I was not polite and I was that American I so cannot stand sometimes, the rude, loud big mouth we are somewhat known for around the world. I had had it and it was time for me to get myself healthy and out of here.
Brandon hovered over my gurney and I just flat out said to him. “I have dealt with this for 2 days and I want to be understanding towards others cultures, but I have f*cking had it, I mean no offense, but I have to do what I have to do to get me better”. Without any hesitation, he simply said, “I 100% understand and don’t blame you”. At this moment he had the nurses wheel me back down stairs and the rest of us refused service.
We all took taxi’s back to friends of Brandon whom live in Bishkek. It was so nice to be in a warm household, eat hot soup, have good healthy people around me, but it was time to end my trip to Kyrgyzstan. There was so much coordination that had happened between, our families, our travel insurance, emergency groups, the American embassy and us personally the 2-3 days from the time of the accident it is unreal. It was so nice to feel real decisions being made and actions happening. The final decision was made that the three of us, Nayla, Adam and myself would be Medevac’d out of the country to Dubai for emergency care. My first thoughts, wow Dubai would be cool, but my other thought was I just need to get home to the good ol’ USA for real care. However when the very people that wanted us back in the USA, our families and trusted people said Dubai has some of the best medical coverage available, we realized it was probably our best choice and close, only 4 hours away.
So the next morning we did just that, the 4 of us, Nayla, Adam, myself and Kevin (Kevin is a paramedic, he joined us to accompany Nayla as she was going to be at a different hospital in Dubai) all flew out of Bishkek. The second we stepped on the airplane it was surreal. It was a private jet, gold inlays, rare hardwoods throughout, the whole bit. What a change of pace. I wasn’t sitting in a huge leather reclining chair more than a minute before one of the flight doctors started asking me questions. His medical questions were what I was familiar with, he was American and instantly I started to shed my guard that had built up the last 2-3 days. I don’t remember much else from the flight, as I instantly started to get fever like conditions and the chills. I think my brain finally told my body it was OK to just let go and I was in safe hands and this was my reaction.
We landed in Dubai, what a random feeling, going from zero degrees to warm desert temperatures. Instantly I could sense the difference again, the ambulance was professional, clean and seemed safe. Nayla went to a different hospital, and Adam and I went to another. Right away the service was unbelievable and clean, did I mention clean. Doctor after doctor, nurse after nurse, I welcomed the constant annoyance; I was ready to be cared for. So the story goes on and on as I still sit here in Dubai, getting more tests and resting.
Personally, it was really important for me to write the above, so I never forget what transpired over the last 2 weeks. Some may think, for me to remember the terrible hospitals or the scary feelings or the pain, but that’s not what this was for. It was for me to remember how lucky I am. Wow, Doug said “luck” a word or concept I don’t believe in… Not lucky to be alive and not in the sense of what most people define luck as. I don’t really believe in Luck, any good situation I’ve been in or “luck” I’ve experienced is because I put myself there and in that situation, I made it happen. There is no “luck”, there’s only properly used opportunity. But I do feel lucky to have this experience in my back pocket, a lesson that could never be taught or learned unless I walked the path (or in this case careening off a road and hitting a tree ;). And that lesson is: life is precious and ultimately really short. Sure sounds cliché doesn’t it? But not as cliché as maybe you’d think I’m discussing.
Life is not your heart beating or your lungs breathing, those are just physical norms we all experience and a necessity of life. Life is how we live our lives, attitudes we carry, choices we make, and the time we spend, those are what is precious.
I’m sitting here with cuts and bruises all over my face, black eyes, bruises all over my body, I can hardly breath, my right arm is in a sling because I just found out I tore my muscle/ligament and slightly fractured my shoulder, I have a brace around my back because I just found out I fractured my lumbar spine and the realization and understanding just fully flooded over me, that the next few months of my life are going to be very difficult. Again with all that said, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
How can all that be lucky? If you asked me today if I could go back 2 weeks ago knowing everything I know now, would I change anything? The answer is NO.
I’m realizing more and more what I have ahead of me really will be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to deal with. It is my true mental Mt. Everest. Give me the toughest physical situation and I’ll break it down methodically and explain how it’s not that difficult and then accomplish it. But being told to just lay and do nothing, I can’t quit wrap my head around yet, it’s so foreign to me, I have no real coping skills to figure this equation out. Sitting still and in traction is my nightmare, but its is my answer back to moving again in the future. Although I’m scared and nervous to think about the mental experience of the next 2-3 months, I’m open to the process and open to learning. There is a small glimmer of excitement to see this process and I’m lucky to be able to experience it.
I’ve always trusted in the universe that for what she throws at me, is what’s right for me. I’m not necessarily a religious person, but I’m definitely spiritual. For what ever is guiding my path or my life, be it a god like figure or the universe itself, in reality it doesn’t really matter, I have a new trust and faith in this process. Of course I never wanted to smash my body or injure myself a couple of weeks ago, but I trust it happened for some good reason. For the reasons mentioned above I’ve already discovered and for reasons I’m sure will be realized as I walk my path further.
Life’s interesting, in the end everything is the same, life will happen the same regardless of your choices and decisions. It really is how you view it and process each situation which is important. It’s the old adage of is the cup half empty or half full. The cup’s the same and always will be the same, it’s your thoughts on the cup that can differ. Life obviously is the same way. You could be cut off by a car this morning on your way to work and you can either yell and scream about how could that person do that and race off fuming, or realize that the person maybe had a rough morning and wasn’t focusing. Instead of being angry with that person, you could be compassionate with the fact that, hey, another human being is having a bad day and its reflecting in their driving and ultimately let that angry, aggressive feelings go within seconds. This mental processing transcends literally every second of our life, the reality is, its our choice to pick which way to think, negative or positive. I could sit here, bitch and moan about how poor me got hurt, or be positive about it and trust in what happened was for good reason and trust what I’m about to learn will change me for the better. I chose the latter… Always.
And wear your seatbelt
Needless to say, I just woke up, it’s about 6am Dubai time and I’m laid up in a hospital bed. I can’t use my right arm (so writing this is fairly comical), my chest feels like a freight truck has ran over it, 6 times and then backed up over it and peeled out on it, and my face looks like I fought 10 UFC fights in a row, losing all rounds… Badly. I will say though this is one of the nicest hospitals I’ve ever been in, honestly it makes any medical unit in the US look like Toys R Us. I guess being one of the richest nations; Dubai should have more than just an indoor ski resort and the highest building in the world.
So, how in the hell did I end up here?”…
You’d think I was ripping some crazy line down a mountain on my skis and kicked off an avalanche or fell while climbing up a ridge, well, all of those scenarios seem believable and most definitely would make a better story, but the reality is, I never clicked on one ski while I was in Kyrgyzstan. The truth is, the trip was one headache problem after another, from delayed flights, canceled flights, lost bags for days, major language barriers and general “round pegs in square hole” scenarios, things just weren’t matching up.
So our group of 7 was split up into 2 groups, the first group, Kevin, Jerod and Megan ended up leaving earlier than the rest of us to see Istanbul on a long layover for a few days and check out Bishkek for a few days after before meeting with us and ultimately making our way into the mountains. This first group ended up meeting with our friend Brandon who is in the Peace Corp and lives in Kyrgyzstan. Our group, myself, Nayla and Adam ended up meeting them later in Bishkek. Days after we showed up, the first group ended up leaving from Bishkek to Karakol earlier than us, as our bags had still not shown up yet and we felt bad they had to keep waiting for us. The bags did however show up at 3:30 am the next day. We were so excited when they finally arrived, we almost felt lucky as we could catch up with the rest of our team so we could all tour in together to the yurt (large cavas tent in the mountains) to start our fun.
We gathered our bags and took a few hours straightening all of our gear for the next week in the mountains. We used our hotel to get us taxi service from Bishkek to Karakol later that day, which is a fairly treacherous 6 hour drive through mountain passes and snow covered roads. Understand we are in old USSR and Kyrgyzstan was used as a stopping point for military for almost 100 years for Russia. It literally has the infrastructure of the moon, as in nothing. No plows, no salt, no road maintenance, no nothing really, well at least by our standards… Also machismo and grandiose ego from the men is very culturally acceptable, so driving slow, cautious and safe just doesn’t happen. It offends them to ask to slow down, and if you do, prepare for them to prove to you how “manly” they are by driving faster. This concept is silly to us in a non-third world or developed nations, but to them it’s their cultural norm.
So as we swerved onto oncoming traffic, horns blazing, speeds that are unacceptable and all of this done on roads with ice and snow, the next sentence shouldn’t come to any surprise. The group of 3 of us and one Kyrgyz driver fish tailed and slid off the road on to the snow covered berm, and hit 3 frozen-unmovable trees head on. I saw it all happen as I was in the front passenger seat. I felt the back end slide out, then the driver over correct, then us veer off the road at about 60-70mph to our final abrupt resting point. I remember thinking, this snow on the side of the road will have to slow us down, but I didn’t. Seconds later, I saw our destiny of smashing into these 3 trees that all shared the same root system and they were coming faster than I perceived possible. I’d love to sit here and write that my life flashed before my eyes, but it didn’t. That seems too simple and too much of a cliché. What I do remember is quickly, literally all of this happening in less than half a second, figuring out how to brace myself, almost putting myself through the motion before it happened to keep myself safe.
Then it happened, the 3 trees I saw destined in my future hit my side of the car first. I remember seeing the trees really close, hearing the crunch and milliseconds later the smashing sound, then nothing. The next conscience moment was me coming to, screaming and yelling for my life as I was pinned to the front of the dash. The dash that was once 3 feet from me, was now killing me. My seat belt which was the reason I could scream for my life and ultimately probably saved me, was slowing suffocating me and stealing every last breath. I remember the absolute panic of, please don’t tell me I’m going to die from suffocating after surviving this horrific crash by my seat belt. I screamed for someone to give me a knife and for someone to help. The next few hours are a blur, but I was told 2 men pulled me from the gap which was once my door and pulled me out. I got out and walked around, I had so much adrenaline rushing through my body I felt nothing. I was bleeding more than I ever bled before, my shirt and pants looked like I just left the set of the second coming of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But my main thought that went through my head was, “Doug are you OK?” and I answered without a second thought, “Yes, I’m fine”.
My next course of action was to make sure my friends were OK. I saw my friend Nayla, laying down already on the ground on a sleeping bag, you can tell very frightened and hurt and for good reason. Adam was standing I believe and clearly you could see his shoulder was not well, it was hanging down lower than the other side. Myself, I could tell was very sore and my chest was not good, It felt like all my ribs were broken, but delirious with not really understanding how bad everything really was.
The next chain of events really will, and has altered my thoughts on life and understanding of the world around us.
There is no 911, there is no real ambulance service that picks you up or police that comes to your rescue 2 minutes after your crash here in Kyrgyzstan, especially rural Kyrgyzstan where we were at, there’s none of that. What there is, is other people, regular untrained people. Although I would have loved to have the jaws of life pull me from my choking seat in the front of the car, have perfectly trained fire fighters, police officers and EMT paramedics swiftly carry me off to the closest hospital, this wasn’t the case. Would have it have been better in retrospect? Of course… But being the ever learning and hopeful-positive person I can be. Minutes after the crash, I felt the shear caring will of humans and general rawness of us all, and for that I’m lucky. 2 men pulled me from that wreckage, honestly without them, I wouldn’t be typing this. 2 Russian women drove Nayla and myself to the closest hospital in their car shortly there after. They put their own fur coats off their backs on Nayla and myself in the back of their car, as I bled all over the place, it was about 0-10 degrees. I think of this now, how many people do I know here in the states that would have just turned their eye at me because I would have bloodied up their back seat or fur coats? It’s a sad thought but I’m sure if all of you honestly answered would not be happy to hear your truthful answer. These people didn’t care. So although I might not agree with the bureaucracy and old communistic tones of old Russia in Kyrgyzstan the raw human nature was there and healthier than ever. They didn’t know us, but they did understand we were humans and humans in need with no question or judgment. Who’s 3rd world, us or them?
The next few hours are a complete blur, but a few things do stand out to me. We arrive at the local “hospital”, I put this in quotations as what I understand as a hospital, this was not. This was a falling apart construction zone. If I was to conjure up and create in my brain an idea of a torture hospital for some farfetched horror movie, I couldn’t have come up with something this good. I’m always one to tell a story and use everything in my power to make it most enjoyable to those I’m telling, but I truly do mean this and this is with zero exaggeration this “hospital” was unbelievably unacceptable for what my team needed at this very moment, it was appalling. All I remember is Nayla yelling at me as they are wheeling me away on a torture looking device that I guess was a gurney from the cold war era, was “do not let them give you anything with a needle”, literally screaming it. The whole accident was starting to place its fury upon me and my strong outlook was starting to fade, I was hurt, tired and most of all, so unbelievably scared. I was beginning to live and play out in real life so many of those horror movies I’ve enjoyed my entire life.
They wheeled me from one room to the next, with each being more scary then the next, they asked me to sit up, stand up, lay back down all in Russian and with forceful hand gestures. The only thing I could think was they are injuring me more, did they not see this? I could feel my ribs floating around and they were being rough, almost like they didn’t understand or didn’t care for that matter. Which I guess in retrospect they possibly didn’t. I was speaking English, they were speaking Russian. I don’t like to think this, but I have to as I sensed it, I could tell they were not over our history of our countries heritages, as in our deal being Russia against the USA and vice versa for so many years. We moved on after the cold war, we excelled, we flourished, USSR on the other hand went into major hardship, extreme political unrest and absolute confusion. I could sense with the older doctors and nurses there was a slight chip on their shoulder, when I’d hear them question me, “Americanas” and then some Russian spoken after. I was helpless and at their bay.
I was wheeled into a surgical room, it’s tough to call it that as it wasn’t, it was a drab dirty room with tiles all over it, picture surgical horror movie. Here they are trying to take my two shirts off, I could not as my arms weren’t working and my chest was just too painful to put my arms up, so they cut the two shirts off, I remember thinking, dumb enough, not two of my favorite polypropylene tech shirts, ha. As I looked at the shirts when they ripped them off, I was in shock at how bloody they were; maybe I wasn’t as fine as I thought.
Here was the turning point. I saw the main doctor, pull out a syringe which I’m thinking was Novocain and at this moment my will to survive kicks in overdrive, I yell and scream that I don’t want the needle, they were all confused, I literally pushed it away. At this moment I could see the confusion in the doctors’ face and almost with proving will to show me how dumb I am, he begins to give me 3 stiches in my chin, one right after another. I realize later, the stitching thread used looked like skipping rope and was thick enough to hang a 50lb weight from. The pain from these was excruciating, but I didn’t take what was warned of me, no needles.
I felt a sense of empowerment at this moment that I was in control of my destiny; the simple action of me refusing something, mentally put a foot hold on my sanity in this out of control situation. And then something dawned on me, the reality of the car crash. I’ve spoken to so many people in the last few days from family members to friends, and everyone here who I was traveling with and I haven’t been 100% honest, but I will be at this moment as I sit here laid up almost writing my diary of the situation so I’ll never forget. My situation was a bit more than I told it. I do somewhat remember what happened after the initial hit from the tree or at least I somewhat understand what was happening. I told everyone I blacked out and then woke up, which was a similar story to what Nayla and Adam told, which is consciously true. But the reality is, I feel I made a choice in that car when I was knocked out, this is all very tough to explain and was somewhat in a dreamlike state, but I made the choice, the choice to eventually stop breathing or fight for my life regardless of how difficult it might be. While in this dream like state, going towards the least path of resistance seemed to me the best option, but obviously to the living conscience, that path really does not fit, because that path means there is no more living. But in my whacked out state, that path seem to carry much weight and validity and almost the most intelligence behind it, it was the least path of resistance, it was the easiest.
To write those last few sentences was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do in a long time. To people that know me, they understand I am full of life, I thrive off of the very essence of life and everything that comes with it. So how come the opposite filled my brain with complete logic and understanding? Why that was even an option to me, why did I make it an option? Scary enough I don’t know, but what I do know is the stubborn pain in the ass person I am, prevailed. I didn’t take the easy path, I came to, I screamed for my life and I’m writing this out today. This mental understanding at this moment as I lay in this absurd hospital filled me with all the ammo I needed to see this through, the choice was made, all I had to do was push through, count the seconds and make it home.
Hours later Americans from the Peace Corps showed up at the hospital, they’re faces looked so familiar however I never met them before. I could have jumped up and kissed them if I could; I was so excited that they could translate for us. An hour or so after this, our friends who were in Karakol showed up; again, another reward in a situation that seemed so bleak. I could see in their faces they were scared, probably more scared then us as they just saw the hospital and saw how banged up we were. But they came with good news, the embassy was involved and our travel insurance was made aware, we were getting the hell out of here; a glimmer of hope.
They were kicked out at midnight, but were allowed back at 8am the next day. I don’t remember them leaving as I must have passed out, but I do remember waking up at around 3am really confused but definitely 100% more conscience of the situation, my wits seemed to be with me as well.
The next 3-4 hours were some of the loneliness hours of my life. All adrenaline had worn off and holy $h*t was I sore, I mean to the point I couldn’t even lift my head up without extreme pain. I had no idea where my friends were and no idea where I was, it was dark and I was in a hallway, not a room, on a gurney. I thought to myself, how disgusting are these sheets, were they cleaned? Is this my blood on the sheets? What are those smells? Who are these groaning people scattered all over this building of pain. The nightmare thoughts get worse and worse, I won’t get into the details as it’s something I never want to think about.
I did have a few moments to myself that were very helpful. I visualized myself in shavasana or corps pose in yoga, which technically I was already in. For those that don’t know the position, it’s very simple, it’s where you lay down on your back and somewhat let go and breathe, a simple concept, but something that’s so hard to perfect because of everything that is exterior that affects us. It was all I could do and it did make me feel better, I felt myself mentally melt into the gurney and eventually into the building and the grounds surrounding it. I visualized myself with all my friends and family, no speaking just being with them and truthfully I was with them in spirit, it was an amazing feeling. It was helpful because it made me realize I’m still on earth and still connected to what is so important to me regardless of the situation.
At around 6:30-7am I could hear crying, not sadness crying but pain crying, I thought to myself I can relate. The crying was familiar, it was from Nayla. Don’t get me wrong she’s not a baby and she’s probably one of the toughest women I know with a great positive outlook on life, but I could tell and sense she’s scared and wanted this whole situation over with too. I then heard Adam, they were close, only about 100 feet below me down the hall, this made me feel so much better. I believe they were talking to Nayla’s father on the phone, who is a doctor. I realized Adam had a life line out, his cell phone. I yelled to him and said, can I call my Mom, he said he has about 5% battery life, that was heart breaking. At this moment Nayla yelled out to me saying that her father contacted my Mom and told her what was happening. My heart sank again; I could only imagine what was going through her mind. How dare my actions affect her like this, it just wasn’t fair. For the first time in a long time, I felt major remorse and sadness for something I’ve done. My mother has been nothing but supportive my entire life and above all she has dealt with all of my BS for the last 35 years. To put it lightly I haven’t been the easiest sons to have. I never really took the normal path, I never made it easy for my mother and father I don’t think, never got married, never had kids, never got a normal job, I’ve always been somewhat against the grain. I always have done things differently, and I know for this simple fact she is proud, but I also understand it comes with great consequences and heartache sometimes, like getting in a random car crash in the middle of nowhere with no real medical help. Seriously who pays for a “vacation” to Kyrgyzstan, ha? I’m sure she thinks I should have my head checked…
Minutes later, I realized I had my cell phone charger (both Adam and me have iPhones) with an international adapter with me in my bag I grabbed from the wreckage before we left for the hospital, the luck. I yelled this to Adam, we both gave each other mental high fives, this was another small victory in our screwed up situation. The phone charged for a few minutes and I eventually called my mother, it rang and rang and went to voicemail, I stated a few simple words since I knew she knew the situation, I explained that I was fine and to not worry, and no big deal. I was happy and sad she didn’t answer. Happy since I didn’t have to explain this situation I wasn’t ready to explain and sad I didn’t get to talk to one of the most important people in my support system. I eventually called back a few minutes later and connected with my Mom. Her voice was concerned but supportive. It never ceases to amaze me how this woman can control her wits, it’s unreal to me. I was strong and very generally speaking that I was fine and loved her and I will be home soon. I quickly moved the conversation forward as I could feel the lump in my throat starting to move further to the point of tears and complete breakdown, now was not the time for that, now was the time to get out of this place.
A little after 8am, our friends from our team showed back up to the hospital. They brought clean water, juice and candy bars. It was awesome to see them and exciting to hear news from the outside world. They discussed that our rides back to Bishkek for much better medical attention was coming at noon. There was also going to be 2 ambulances for Nayla and myself because I couldn’t sit up straight and Nayla was fearful of a fractured/broken back. The next 3-4 hours were excruciating long, I just wanted out of this hospital. I could feel sickness and the dead denseness in the air, every minute in there I was getting sicker. We hear news about the embassy and everyone back stateside from our friends, family and other teams of people coming together to get us out of there and on to better medical services.
Finally the ambulances arrive, well one comes and 2 taxis show up. Nayla definitely needs the ambulance as a back injury is a dire situation, Adam and I would just have to suffer through the car ride. Overall the car ride wasn’t too bad, I had laid down in the back seat with my feet up, while the taxi driver raced 4 hours back to Bishkek. Who’d of thought the back of a taxi cab could be a better suited and more safe place than a hospital, I kept thinking. I tried to close my eyes the majority of the time and ignore the surroundings, but I could sense the speed, the aggressiveness and could hear the beeping as we swiftly moved over unsteady snowy ground. I kept thinking to myself, how terrible would it be to get into yet another accident because Mario Andretti in the driver’s seat refused to slow down, it almost made me laugh. Not really.
We were the first vehicle to show up at the nicest hospital in Kyrgyzstan. I could only see up above the windows in the car as I was lying down, but could clearly see this hospital was dilapidated and seriously falling apart. My heart sank again, the realization was getting clearer that I needed to toughen up even more and get out of this country as there were no more options here. I was dragged out of the car, literally, and was placed on another steal gurney. I was wheeled up by 4 men that were far from nurses, doctors or any type of hospital worker, but nothing could have been as bad as what I was just in at the first hospital, or so I thought. It wasn’t worse, but it definitely was equally as bad in its own way. We were all excited as we were told an English speaking doctor worked at this hospital and he was young and very knowledgeable. I meet the doctor, although he was just trying to help, I found it very hard to take seriously a Russian doctor, who spoke somewhat good English, who looked extremely nervous and would constantly contradict himself who didn’t look a day over 25, on how he could actually help our situation. It was definitely time to do something drastic. I did the same routine as the first hospital, deep breathing while he listened to my chest through a stethoscope and then x-rays. He took x-rays, which were non-conclusive, because they were some of the worst x-rays I’ve seen in a long time, you could barely see anything, they seemed over exposed?
I then was wheeled into a room that was freezing cold, like 40 degrees, and from what I could see behind me, there was a guy smoking a cigarette doing clay work? Or something of that extent, washing his tools in the same sink I saw other medical tools in… Honestly it was really sketchy and confusing. I was asked if I wanted some type of pain killer, the man who asked me had a syringe, I absolutely refused again, he also had a look of disbelief, maybe I was insane for denying the pain killer, but I felt now was a time where I needed complete focus, not being drugged up, pain or not. I was then wheeled into an old elevator, where I was moved down one corridor after another until I finally entered this room. The room had 6-7 other patients in it, some with pins/rods sticking out of their legs, others groaning and 1 other clearly insane somewhat making asinine noises. I thought to myself maybe I’m going insane. I then saw it, my proposed bed. A bed, where the sheets most definitely were still the same from the last patient who resided in it, you could see the dankness, the creases, almost see the sickness. At this point I had enough, I wasn’t going through this 1 more minute. I told the nurse to grab my Russian speaking friend Brandon who was down stairs; I needed to see him immediately. I told the nurse not to move me or touch me any longer. I can assure you at this time, I was not polite and I was that American I so cannot stand sometimes, the rude, loud big mouth we are somewhat known for around the world. I had had it and it was time for me to get myself healthy and out of here.
Brandon hovered over my gurney and I just flat out said to him. “I have dealt with this for 2 days and I want to be understanding towards others cultures, but I have f*cking had it, I mean no offense, but I have to do what I have to do to get me better”. Without any hesitation, he simply said, “I 100% understand and don’t blame you”. At this moment he had the nurses wheel me back down stairs and the rest of us refused service.
We all took taxi’s back to friends of Brandon whom live in Bishkek. It was so nice to be in a warm household, eat hot soup, have good healthy people around me, but it was time to end my trip to Kyrgyzstan. There was so much coordination that had happened between, our families, our travel insurance, emergency groups, the American embassy and us personally the 2-3 days from the time of the accident it is unreal. It was so nice to feel real decisions being made and actions happening. The final decision was made that the three of us, Nayla, Adam and myself would be Medevac’d out of the country to Dubai for emergency care. My first thoughts, wow Dubai would be cool, but my other thought was I just need to get home to the good ol’ USA for real care. However when the very people that wanted us back in the USA, our families and trusted people said Dubai has some of the best medical coverage available, we realized it was probably our best choice and close, only 4 hours away.
So the next morning we did just that, the 4 of us, Nayla, Adam, myself and Kevin (Kevin is a paramedic, he joined us to accompany Nayla as she was going to be at a different hospital in Dubai) all flew out of Bishkek. The second we stepped on the airplane it was surreal. It was a private jet, gold inlays, rare hardwoods throughout, the whole bit. What a change of pace. I wasn’t sitting in a huge leather reclining chair more than a minute before one of the flight doctors started asking me questions. His medical questions were what I was familiar with, he was American and instantly I started to shed my guard that had built up the last 2-3 days. I don’t remember much else from the flight, as I instantly started to get fever like conditions and the chills. I think my brain finally told my body it was OK to just let go and I was in safe hands and this was my reaction.
We landed in Dubai, what a random feeling, going from zero degrees to warm desert temperatures. Instantly I could sense the difference again, the ambulance was professional, clean and seemed safe. Nayla went to a different hospital, and Adam and I went to another. Right away the service was unbelievable and clean, did I mention clean. Doctor after doctor, nurse after nurse, I welcomed the constant annoyance; I was ready to be cared for. So the story goes on and on as I still sit here in Dubai, getting more tests and resting.
Personally, it was really important for me to write the above, so I never forget what transpired over the last 2 weeks. Some may think, for me to remember the terrible hospitals or the scary feelings or the pain, but that’s not what this was for. It was for me to remember how lucky I am. Wow, Doug said “luck” a word or concept I don’t believe in… Not lucky to be alive and not in the sense of what most people define luck as. I don’t really believe in Luck, any good situation I’ve been in or “luck” I’ve experienced is because I put myself there and in that situation, I made it happen. There is no “luck”, there’s only properly used opportunity. But I do feel lucky to have this experience in my back pocket, a lesson that could never be taught or learned unless I walked the path (or in this case careening off a road and hitting a tree ;). And that lesson is: life is precious and ultimately really short. Sure sounds cliché doesn’t it? But not as cliché as maybe you’d think I’m discussing.
Life is not your heart beating or your lungs breathing, those are just physical norms we all experience and a necessity of life. Life is how we live our lives, attitudes we carry, choices we make, and the time we spend, those are what is precious.
I’m sitting here with cuts and bruises all over my face, black eyes, bruises all over my body, I can hardly breath, my right arm is in a sling because I just found out I tore my muscle/ligament and slightly fractured my shoulder, I have a brace around my back because I just found out I fractured my lumbar spine and the realization and understanding just fully flooded over me, that the next few months of my life are going to be very difficult. Again with all that said, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
How can all that be lucky? If you asked me today if I could go back 2 weeks ago knowing everything I know now, would I change anything? The answer is NO.
I’m realizing more and more what I have ahead of me really will be the hardest thing I’ll ever have to deal with. It is my true mental Mt. Everest. Give me the toughest physical situation and I’ll break it down methodically and explain how it’s not that difficult and then accomplish it. But being told to just lay and do nothing, I can’t quit wrap my head around yet, it’s so foreign to me, I have no real coping skills to figure this equation out. Sitting still and in traction is my nightmare, but its is my answer back to moving again in the future. Although I’m scared and nervous to think about the mental experience of the next 2-3 months, I’m open to the process and open to learning. There is a small glimmer of excitement to see this process and I’m lucky to be able to experience it.
I’ve always trusted in the universe that for what she throws at me, is what’s right for me. I’m not necessarily a religious person, but I’m definitely spiritual. For what ever is guiding my path or my life, be it a god like figure or the universe itself, in reality it doesn’t really matter, I have a new trust and faith in this process. Of course I never wanted to smash my body or injure myself a couple of weeks ago, but I trust it happened for some good reason. For the reasons mentioned above I’ve already discovered and for reasons I’m sure will be realized as I walk my path further.
Life’s interesting, in the end everything is the same, life will happen the same regardless of your choices and decisions. It really is how you view it and process each situation which is important. It’s the old adage of is the cup half empty or half full. The cup’s the same and always will be the same, it’s your thoughts on the cup that can differ. Life obviously is the same way. You could be cut off by a car this morning on your way to work and you can either yell and scream about how could that person do that and race off fuming, or realize that the person maybe had a rough morning and wasn’t focusing. Instead of being angry with that person, you could be compassionate with the fact that, hey, another human being is having a bad day and its reflecting in their driving and ultimately let that angry, aggressive feelings go within seconds. This mental processing transcends literally every second of our life, the reality is, its our choice to pick which way to think, negative or positive. I could sit here, bitch and moan about how poor me got hurt, or be positive about it and trust in what happened was for good reason and trust what I’m about to learn will change me for the better. I chose the latter… Always.
And wear your seatbelt