The Fabric of Time..

This blog often serves as a gentle reminder of how time passes.  Like water carving a continuous meandering stream; time has a way of flowing consistently, shaping the river of our lives.  And within this measure of time reveals a staggering statistic:  its been almost three weeks since my last post, and more importantly, over six weeks since my accident.

It seems as my words find their way back to time.  I can't help but think it has something to do with what my life has been filled with recently, time.  By no means am I suggesting that time is moving slowly, or that I am getting bored.  Actually, I reckon that time has not changed at all, since the clock ticks as if it were water cascading down a hillside, steadily.  Like the calendar that measures our age, the landscape is defined by the impact of the water.  If the water shapes the hillside, similarly, then one can contemplate how time molds our lives.  Yet who is in control of the molding?  Strange to consider that time and schedule are what many people's molds become (albeit some more than others); dominated by the clock instead of managing time, on the other hand, we all need to follow a calendar or schedule at times.  Learning what to do with the time we have been given becomes paramount for managing time.  This recent process I have gone through has helped expose the relatively obvious nature of time, especially since clocks keep the measure fairly accurate.

With this in mind, I somehow allowed the blog to slip through the imaginary cracks of time.  Its always so much harder to begin an update once so much time has passed, as I never know where to start.  It is a bit like jumping in a mountain lake, when hesitation attempts to outdo freedom.

And the update:  I am doing extremely well.  Movement is something that is no longer a foreign concept, rather, its like an old friend who sits down for tea and conversation.  I have begun to perform gentle yoga poses as a result of my old buddy coming back, in addition to going out for dinner, as well as, traveling to hot springs, and even working a grill shift at the Restaurant.  The latter was out of necessity, see below (rule #1 compliance) for photo:

It felt amazing to be back in the kitchen again.  I realized how much I enjoy cooking and just being on line again.   Despite the incredible challenge of maneuvering, it was a refreshing experience to be where I am most comfortable- inside the realm of passion.  It was also good therapy to be moving in so many directions; even though, at times,  it felt like a roller coaster ride inside a boxing ring.

Speaking of comfort, memory foam mattress pads are the way to go.  Its like sleeping on a dream, a really good dream full of happy endings (that came out all wrong, no double pun intended :]).  I spend most of the time in my wheelchair, but when I'm not on wheels I'm all over the memory foam pad.  I'll never go back to a regular mattress again.

Yesterday while soaking in hot springs a rainbow arched over the horizon.  Being immersed in water for the first time in months was beyond description.  I practically melted into the hot water as my body became what felt like a pile of minerals.  Moving around in the water was equally joyful as my body danced with the delight of motion, submerged in the healing springs, returning to a movement that is now a new beginning.

The car ride to and from the hot springs was a test of endurance.  Its about an hour and a half each way from my house to the springs, and my ass felt every minute of it.  Somehow I've lost any sort of body weight in between my bones and whatever I sit on, so I'm learning more how to address the discomfort.  I sit on a very expensive pad throughout the day while I am in the wheelchair, so my ass is supported in a pleasurable way, so to speak; however, once this skeleton rests on a car seat, the game begins.  I am planning on driving to Seattle this weekend for a workshop with Paul Muller-Ortega, and its a little over 9 hours each way.  I have some friends joining me for the trip, so I'll be in good hands.

It looks like I will be in the wheelchair for another few weeks before I get the go ahead to start crutches or other various forms of mobility.  I have been getting out fairly regularly now, I've been to out to eat several times as well as joining friends for dinner at their houses.  I've also had a decent amount of company here at the house, all combining to ensure I am feeling stimulated and alive.  It also reminds me of how I am not alone on this journey, that all of us are experiencing similar emotions, feelings, trials, tribulations, and challenges.  I take great comfort in knowing that we are able to assist each other just by showing some warmth and gratitude through our friend and kinship for one another.  So much incredible energy has been shared with me throughout all of my interactions with others, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the outpouring of love and support.  Once again it has kept me in the skies of contentment, flying high above the depths of despair.

Old habits came knocking on the door recently, I noticed their arrival shortly after I went to the doctors appointment on Mar 17.  These habits are like friends you don't necessarily associate with anymore, yet they want to hang out because they are like that, and its hard to kick them out even though they are barnacles hanging onto the bottom of the boat.  I ditched them like a high school geometry class.  It was easy to see how they arrived though.  I go to the doc expecting amazing news about how quickly I have been healing, how I'm ready to start walking any moment now, and how he can't believe how great my recovery has been.  What I got was a business as usual, come back in three weeks, keep doing what your doing spill.  This brought me back to reality fairly quickly and reminded me that I've got a long way to go.

And so it goes on and on.  The fabric of time is threaded with water.  Please don't forget to stay hydrated out there.  Now that this time business is handled, I'll write again before I leave for Seattle.

In love and light
andy

Ordinary? Nah, more like Extraordinary!

This title makes me smile.  So does the reminder that my accident happened exactly 4 weeks ago today.  Time has a way of moving quickly, especially the busier we get; the importance of taking time to reflect comes to mind.  For with each reflection I have come to notice that time begins to slow down, the same way we watch an hourglass slowly distribute sand, grain by grain.  Isn't it interesting that if we actually pay attention to the time we have, time then allows us to accomplish more of what we want, instead of time owning us like a schedule, dictating our lives and our next moves, sometimes without our conscious knowledge.

Here I sit reflecting on my memories of what I have gone through over the last four weeks.  As I ponder the recent memories an even bigger and broader scope appears, a scope of my entire life.  The word that comes to mind, without a doubt, in the context of this scope, is extraordinary.  My life has been extraordinary.  I feel I wear these colors, like a rainbow, in the way I cook, communicate, and connect with others.  Its so much a part of who I have become, and what makes my smile so large. 

A quick glance into a realm I consider extraordinary:  Climbing above 16,000 feet on a glacier, the last 500 feet solo on ice, with ice axe and crampons, no ropes, only to slip and fall on the way down and nearly not stop, with crevaces deeper than an imagination trying to swallow me, all for a glimpse of one of the most beautiful mountains in the world- Alpamayo, located in the Andes Range, Cordillera Blanca, Peru.  I remember considering how much my life meant to me then.  I felt like I could see forever, yet the end was staring me in the face.  Thankfully I made it to safety and the experience taught me a great deal about how to appreciate life, not to mention the serenity that accompanied the phenomenal views. 

The first distinct view of Alpamayo.

 

Alpamayo's most famous view

The third and final view.  Notice how each face is completely different.

Surfing the Mentawaii Islands, off the coast of Indonesia, while living on a boat for 10 days and exploring reef breaks of epic proportions also comes to mind.  I remember one afternoon at PB+J's (name of a break) and these giant sets were coming through.  There was no hope duck diving, so we would just ditch our boards, swim deep, and hope for the best.  About the best we got was the feeling of being a sock in a washing machine, except imagine the motor is broken because the cycle is going about 20 times as fast as it should, so the sock is flopping around helplessly.  Meanwhile we are getting pushed into a razor sharp reef known to slice open flesh with the slightest touch.  The questions about life begin to arise yet again. 

The smell of the morning dew and the natural aroma of the Sacred Valley with Urabamba river below, at dawn, as the clouds break and reveal a timeless treasure in Machu Picchu.  Still the most beautiful site I have ever laid eyes on, a masterpiece of human ingenuity, a treasure of brilliance, the wonder of the human mind landscaped on a steep and dangerous hillside.  Climbing to the top of Wayna Picchu (the large rock hill attached to Macchu Picchu) revealed the setting from a whole different perspective, just like meditation can do with our lives.  The way up and the way down is incredibly steep, and so it goes with our paths toward realization.

Aside from these monumental adventures, there is so much to mention, such as:  surfing perfect waves in Bali just two weeks after a large bombing.. traveling solo for a week in France not being able to speak a lick of French.. a quick trip to Spain where I feel in love with Barcelona.. the countrysides of Italy and the delightful food and wine that adorns the culture.. the rental cars, Foosball games, epic waves, and all around good times/romances in Costa Rica..  that three day greyhound bus trip, round trip, from Whitefish, MT to NYC..  attending 14 years of the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, seeing 77 Phish shows, including the travels to and from, full of wonderful people and stories..  the lady boys in Singapore that nearly fooled us into thinking they were, well, you know.. 

So these are a few examples of this extraordinary state I am contemplating.  Obviously there are many travels mentioned above, yet as I think of my career I hold the same amazement at what I have been able to accomplish.  Its literally quite fascinating that I am flooded with these fruitful memories of my life. I am delighted to be able to look back with a deep contentment of many of the choices I have made.  Its not all chocolate and roses though, such is life, I have sour memories of mistakes I've made over the years.  One of my favorite things about sour thoughts is that, over time, the sour-ness breaks down, the memories become sweeter as we accept them for what they are, as necessary occurrences for us to become who we are today.

My first experience with Acupuncture was tonight.  I can't believe its taken me this long to actually try out this ancient healing technique.  The feeling I had was that my body was a harp, each needle was playing a string in my body, and the chi in my body was the sound of the music.  For the first time since the accident I could actually detect and feel the injury in my body, as if I had a cat-scan delivered to my brain and nervous system explaining what exactly was wrong.  It was bizarre to be able to isolate the injury and have the feeling be amplified, while at the same time energy was moving throughout the rest of my body.

Speaking of needles, I've gotten really darn good at giving myself the shot in the stomach.  I've found that I can go with a slow, steady piercing and a nice even press of the liquid.  I am so proud of my new skills that I've tried to show them off to a few people, for some reason nobody is interested in watching me do this.  I figure I might as well entertain others if I have to do it anyway. 

I am now spending the majority of my day out of bed and either in the wheelchair or sitting on the couch.  A week ago I was definitely not ready to spend any more than a few hours out of bed.  I feel like progress is going well, as each day there is improvement with my condition.  I'm happy to report I am almost free of eating Norco (Lortab/Tylenol mix), and Robaxin (muscle relaxer).  My pain management has become a lot more balanced, specifically with some of the natural medication taking the place of the pills. 

One of my big challenges of the day is to not sneeze.  While I was in the hospital even if my body felt the urge to sneeze, my body would not allow me to sneeze.  Whats the big deal with sneezing you may ask?  Well, I can feel the damaged areas of my body, its as if an x-ray camera just flashed while I sneezed and highlighted where the pain exists, the image then reveals a wave of pain.  Normally I welcome a sneeze and get myself really psyched up for it, as a good sneeze can feel incredibly relieving.  Now, however, as soon as I feel a sneeze coming on I begin to try and suppress it, sometimes I even plead with the sneeze.  There is a technique where I can squeeze a pillow really tight with my arms, then lean my head down and sneeze into the pillow.  The pillow is supposed to keep the body from moving or jolting during the sneeze.  Problem is I'm not always carrying a pillow, in fact I hardly ever have one accessible.

Most people that visit me remark how thin I look.  It seems I have lost a little weight, mostly I think I have lost muscle mass.  I have initiated a personal cause to eat large amounts of food, in part because I am trying to regain some weight.  This is also due to the reality that everyone who visits either cooks food or brings some with them to cook.  This is fantastic!  I've been devouring sushi, pork stews, well cooked breakfasts, quinoa w/veggies, pork tenderloin with cauliflower and artichokes, shrimp and calamari pasta, just a few of the latest dishes that I've been enjoying.  Leftovers are common and I am eating like a madman to keep up.  Its fun to eat a lot.  My body is really enjoying it and my metabolism continues to work overtime- much like my ambition and my drive.

The Restaurant is going well.  Tonight we hosted a seven course wine dinner.  Here is the menu:

*Tuna Tartare, Oscetra Caviar, Lemongrass, Bottarga, Quail Egg, Saffron
*Poached Salt Prawns, Heirloom Tomato Water, Basil Mayonnaise, Crisp Brussels
*Roast Foie Gras, Preserved Kumquats, Vanilla-Maple Foie Emulsion, Spiced Brioche, Microgreens
*Cured Elk Tenderloin, Celery Root, Apple, Crisp Prosciutto, Collard Greens
*Braised Lamb Scalopini, Roast Garlic, Rosemary-Burnt Tomato Creme, Truffle Whipped Yukons
*Kobe Beef Ribeye, Black Trumpet Mushrooms, Heirloom Tomato Oil, Spinach, White Balsamic, Brabants
*Ginger-Carrot and Cream Cheese Cake, Fresh Wasabi

This required a good deal of time and energy from me.  It was also a tremendous building exercise for the back of the house crew to execute a menu that they are far from used to.  I felt as if I was operating from a satellite location, giving instructions, discussing techniques, still orchestrating the event.  There is only so much I can do, and I am so proud of my staff for being able to pull off the dinner with flying colors.  

I suppose I will not have to ever return to work, since my staff has been able to handle my absence.  It looks like another Phish tour may be on the horizon, or at least some extravagant trip to somewhere exotic where I might be able to burn a few more of the nine lives I have.  I probably only have a couple left.  On second thought, maybe I will save those for a later date.  Surely there are plenty of other extraordinary experiences to immerse in.

In light,
andino 

Home sweet home

21 days I spent in a hospital before arriving home on Wednesday afternoon.  It had been 11 days since I had breathed any outside air.  The feeling of wheeling out of the hospital, as I took one last look down the long hallways I had come to love cruising up and down, was beyond words.  I'll attempt to describe it in the only way I know how, through my experience.

There was a bittersweet essence that pervaded my mind as I took the final glimpse at the hospital walls before pushing through the two automatic doors.  I knew in that moment there was a part of me that was going to miss being at North Valley, although another part of me felt as if I had just been released from prison or a tuberculosis ward.  This bears no reflection on the hospital, nor my care, as my time spent there I still hold in high regard.  Rather this speaks about the freedom I experienced as the cold air kissed my skin, igniting a series of chills, with a rush of delight that permeating my being.  The air smelled clean, fresh, and alive.  Meanwhile the surrounding mountains appeared to be airbrushed with a thin layer of clouds, just enough to see through like a transparent veil, revealing a panorama reminding me I was home.  An overall feeling of contentment and satisfaction paralleled the incredible chills, while a great smile widened across my face.  The sounds of the outside world followed and the reality of the moment set in.  I was finally heading home!

I will not bore you with the details of making phone calls, picking up prescriptions, checking in with a doctors office, stopping by the post office, or any of the other various tasks that subsequently happened immediately after my discharge.  That didn't hold back the gorgeous winter wonderland that accompanied my ride through Whitefish and then along the lake.  Arriving at my house was like returning home, literally.  How profound!  Honestly speaking, the aroma of my house was the first thing I noticed.  A familiar sensory experience with all five senses participating in a confirmation that I was finally home.  These five instruments each played a tune, like a melody, that struck a chord within me, returning me to a place of peace. 

So, yeah, its great to be home, there really is no place like it.  The comfort of home can not be overstated, I am filled with joy being here.  That is not to say things will be any easier now that I'm here, in all actuality there are new challenges to yield to daily.  I no longer have a button to press in order to get assistance, nor do I have a phone to pickup and order food or drinks to be delivered to my bed.  There is no nurse to administer the shot I must give myself each night.  I have to think a few moves ahead now, as everything I do takes more time now that I am in a wheelchair.  Just to get a glass of water requires several steps, as does many other simple tasks.  Yet I am in control now with everything: from communication, managing my schedule, my noise level, my choices, my life, its all in my hands now.  And it feels good to have this power once again.

There were times when I felt vulnerable being in the hospital, being exposed, feeling lonely, seeking freedom of choice.  Even though I had continuous visits from nurses and nursing assistants, doctors, physical therapists, friends, etc., the fact that I was living in a foreign setting made me feel isolated from my self.  Now I feel connected to who I truly am, once again, in the comfort of my home.

The final few days and nights of being in the hospital were actually quite rewarding.  I was anxious to get out of there, especially once my discharge date was set.  My neighbor for the last two nights was a great friend and frequent patron of the restaurant.  Her husband brought in wine each night, offering me a glass.  I gladly accepted his offer, knowing that his wine cellar is the size of a super-model's closet.  The first night was a glass of 03' Dumol, Pinot Noir, from Russian River.  How wonderful to be enjoying some of California's finest Pinot Noir, aged for 8 years, while in the hospital.  I savored every sip as if it were my last.  The next night was a 87' Jordan, Cabernet Sauvignon, from Napa.  If the Pinot was elegant, the Jordan was powerful.  I allowed it to breathe for almost an hour before truly enjoying the complexity of top shelf napa cab that had been confined to a bottle for 20 plus years.  I did get in a small amount of trouble with the first glass considering I was in a hospital after all, drinking is not something they encourage.  Discovering that all I needed was a "order" from the doctor to allow me to consume a glass of wine became the ticket to drinking the Jordan with full clearance.

Its amazing to think that three weeks ago I was laying in the E.R. barking instructions to my sous chef about how the dishes for the wine dinner would be executed that evening; while doctors and nurses are urging me to hang up the phone.  Now I sit with my road to recovery all in my hands.  The fluctuations of progress are still the greatest challenge for me.  Add to it the balance of managing pain and comfort, without indulging in "opiate ville", and constant attention is required to monitor my body's condition.  Speaking of challenges, each night I must administer a shot, in my stomach, where virtually no fat exists, and I am expected to insert a needle and inject anti-blood clotting solution.  I am going to go ahead and do it right now, so I can give you the play-by-play.

To begin, pulling the needle out of the package is not fun, nor is pulling the plastic cap off revealing the really sharp pointy thing that I am about to stick into my body!  Wiping the spot with alcohol is like taking your pet to the vet, somehow they just know something is going on.  Then I have to spread my thumb and forefinger about three inches to squeeze my belly, so I have some flesh to work with.  Now I am jamming the needle into the flesh and slowly introducing the solution to the body, feeling the burning sensation that this non-coagulant solution provides.  Resembling a fire ant or a bee sting, at least for a few minutes, this solution is not a pleasant feeling.  There have been varying degrees of success with my efforts in putting a needle in my belly.  Occasionally there will not be enough force and the skin does not get penetrated; or the needle will go in so fast that I pull it right back out.  To top it all off, each shot costs $32.  I'll be doing this for another two weeks.  Its necessary to prevent blood clots, so they say, which can be incredibly dangerous.  I guess its more like insurance for me.  And thankfully, my insurance policy covers the cost of this (after the deductible is met of course). 

Then there is my porch.  While still in the hospital I dreamed of sitting on my porch. The last few days I have been basking in the sunlight and the beauty of my porch once again.  This experience brought about tears of joy as it was a monumental feeling.  Watching the snow melt off the trees, with the angle of the sunlight creating a spectrum, reminded me of the dangers of attachment.  I imagined we are like the snow, clinging to the tree, holding on to what we have.  Then the sunlight speaks to us, as if consciousness is saying its time to let go.  If one tries to hold on too much, the sunlight will melt the attachment, returning us to the ground, the source of life.  We are then able to rely on our roots for support and direction.

The whole care calendar thing is working incredibly well.  It is always a nice surprise to see who signs up for each slot.  Yesterday an incredibly distinguished visitor, Debra Sykes, stopped by for an evening visit.  My vibration is still humming from her wonderful presence.  It was refreshing to be around someone who is so knowledgeable regarding yoga, therapeutics, and life itself.  We worked on several positions that would help me remain in alignment since I am spending so much time in a wheelchair and a bed.  She also shared some props and a few instructions to open my body up to the shakti (energy).  These adjustments should help expedite my healing process, since my body will be in proper alignment.  Debra also shared her experience of my recurring vision (see previous blog post for details about my vision).  She felt that sometimes God sends us a message, and her thoughts were that perhaps God was telling me to "get on with it", since I may have been "moving a little slow", so God took a sledgehammer and gave me a good whack in my lower back/pelvis area, just to move things along.  I support this notion and it actually feels like there is some truth to it.

Its so fascinating to me that posture and breath are so important to our daily lives.  The asanas in yoga are directly related to posture and breath, and the practice of yoga is to train the body and mind to remain in alignment.  This got me thinking a little deeper, and I wondered- How many of us take time for ourselves to breathe consciously each day?  How much time is devoted to this?  And how much of our day is focused on healing?  It could be healing a wounded relationship before a scar appears, or healing the past, healing a mind drenched in negativity, or healing a body that needs some attention.  With all of this in mind, how much time do you devote to healing?  Of course, most recently, I have been devoting a lot of time to healing; although before the accident my answer would have been very little.  Another interesting question, to me, is- How many of us allow ourselves to relax?  I don't mean sitting on the couch and watching TV to relax, I mean fully connecting to our breath and just allowing our body to be calm, reaching a state of peace.  For instance, yesterday I was practicing laying on my stomach.  Its something that physical therapy suggested doing in order to allow my body to move in a slightly different position, particularly for blood flow and circulation.  I was very tense as I rolled over onto my stomach, my breath was disjointed and fear was present until I remembered to breathe.  What followed was a softening of my whole body, as if the breath melted away the fear and turned it into love.  I even was able to practice some mini-cobras, without lifting my chest off the bed, strengthening my upper body and stretching my shoulders.  The feeling this posture gave me was out of this world, I felt as if I could conquer anything in that moment.

One thing I have noticed is that I am more sensitive more in tune with my body than ever before.   As I worked with Debra on inner/outer spiral, I could actually feel the mechanics of my body with precision.  Following techniques of Anusara had been difficult in the past, as my mind would often yield to confusion, yet this time I could initiate the flow of energy with relative ease. This gives me hope that I will heal fully and be back living a fruitful life with even more abundance than before.

Its funny to be working with so many different physical therapists, since they all bring their own ideas to the table.  The last one who visited me suggested I take everything really slow.  I agree with this concept, although I understand the notion a little differently.  What I hear, or what I think he means, is pay close attention to what your body is telling you in relation to the healing process.

This morning, I decided to relax after all of the movement yesterday.  It feels good to honor what my body and mind need, or what they speak to me.  That is what I will be up to.  Come by and participate, when you can.

Lastly I will say that offering someone a piece of yourself is, quite simply, the greatest gift you can offer somebody else.  So many of you have offered your thoughts, your time, your energy, gifts, and your love.  For this I am eternally grateful.  Thank you for sharing a part of yourself with me.  It means the world to me.

In light and love,
andy

Here is the calendar and the link once again: 

http://www.carecalendar.org/logon/67241

Password is 4479

Visions of Johanna

"Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin to be so quiet.  We sit here stranded, but we all do our best to deny it"  Bob Dylan, Visions of Johanna, 1966

An appropriately themed title, as usual, to begin the blog.  I'd go so far as to say that this was Dylan's best song, over and above any other work, in my humble and honest opinion.  What I love about this song is how it exposes each side of positive and negative, with the lyrics dancing between the defining realm of perception and undeniable aspect of feeling, yet somehow achieving a remarkable story throughout the rhyming sonnet and the delicate sequence.

And so this song comes to mind as I near the end of my hospital stay here at North Valley.  I have been here for 14 days.  That equates to more than 336 hours I have lived here in this hospital.  If I count Spokane (which, of course I'd rather forget), the number would be even larger.  The visions that are coming to mind, as the time melts into the future, are results of the present moments, such as the fact that I am in a wheelchair now.  Another vision which has begun haunting me is the traumatic scene of my body smashing into that tree and the cries of agony that accompanied the moments just after impact.  I actually have incredibly vivid visions of my body, from above none-the-less, as if I am out of my body and watching my shoulders being thrust back as the impact happens.  Its funny to me that the shoulders are what stand out the most.  I believe this has to do with the way my back immediately curved around the shape of the base of that tree, prompting my shoulders to slide onto my back, the way one might initiate a backbend in yoga.  Imagine your back being compressed and your shoulders opening as your heart moves forward.  This is the image that haunts me.

Although its not all that horrifying.  In fact its quite the opposite.  I see it as my heart bursting open to the world, and it took the destruction of my pelvis and lower back to break the seams that were binding my ability to open towards grace (an Anusara yoga term).  Obviously I'm getting a little esoteric here, but it is a direct result of what I am experiencing from this vision that remains.  Another recurring theme is the reality of my situation.  I guess between the drugs, the novelty of my situation, and the gratitude for my condition not being worse, I have yet to fully process or digest what has happened to me.  I have had these moments, almost like an epiphany, where I suddenly realize I can't physically move certain parts of my body yet.  Its difficult because I feel so "normal" again; however, I am reminded of the reality of my situation.  Awaking to the reality that I am in a wheelchair, albeit temporarily, is a frightening thought.  I never imagined I would be in a wheelchair, unable to stand and walk.  Even to type this, it brings about feelings of sadness.

And yet the wheelchair still remains the highlight of my day.  Wheeling around the halls inspires a new found sense of freedom and discovery.  Its like I am conquering the frightening part of being in a wheelchair, while accepting that my current condition is exactly what it is and how it is supposed to be.  Rest assured, I am having fun with it all.  In fact, I am now concerned that I don't have long hallways to breeze through at home.  Where can I go to get a nice wheelchair cruise?  These are also some of the thoughts that are beginning to infiltrate now that my time here is almost done.  Another thought I have is how nice it will be to feel the outside air again.  I haven't been outside for more than 10 days.  Imagine not a breath of fresh, outside air in that amount of time.  Its weird to feel this way.  I look forward to the opportunity to sit on my porch and watch the sky do what it does and breathe in the cool, crisp, clean Montana air.  What I hope all of you will do, for me, is take a big deep breath and give thanks for whatever you are grateful for in your life, the next time you step outside.

 
While I am on the topic of realizations I also discovered another well known fact about hospitals (with special thanks to my favorite nurse); people are not only born here, they come here to die too.   This hit me rather strangely, as the obvious nature of the nurses comment combined with the idea of death was so unexpected to me.  Here I am so focused on healing and getting well, then I am reminded of the very building I am living in.  Both processes are beautiful and something we all experience in our lifetime, as we all were born and we all will die.  This is about as obvious as the idea that if you jump into water, you will get wet.  But how often do we stop and recognize this process for what it is?  Most of us likely consider the consequences of the temperature of the outside air and the water prior to actually getting wet; on the other hand, how many of us can think of birth and death in the same realm?  Do we actually consider what our lives will be like if we look back with regret in our heart while facing our last breath?  How wonderful it must be to see life come into this world.  On the same hand, how amazing it must be to watch someone peacefully pass away to the unknown.  Birth can be tragic and painful, as can death, yet in our culture only one is really celebrated, that which is life.  If we could all see death as a celebration, we would likely have more examples of compassion, dignity, and community in America as opposed to the greediness, fear, and separateness that keeps many of us from being happy and living harmoniously.  Because after all death is life, as much as life is death.  Some of us are busy living, and some of us are busy dying.   (Thanks to Captain Obvious for his contribution to the above paragraph)

And so it goes my mind wanders about the life and death of beings, while I reflect on what I am grateful for and what I want to do with the time ahead of me.  There is no doubt this accident has had a a profound effect on me.  If it were any less, I'd expect you all to be concerned about me.  I have never felt a deeper appreciation for the people who are in my life, specifically those of you who have taken time to communicate or reach out to me, visit with me, and to share your love and energy with me throughout this healing process.  This means more than anything else to me right now.  You know who you are and I thank you with love and gratitude.  For without you I'd be climbing through the caves of despair, without a light or a sense of direction, lost inside the loneliness of illusion.

So now, dear friends and family, is your chance to share a little time with me.  I have created a care calendar, so that you may reserve a time to help me with some of my basic needs.  The link is here:  http://www.carecalendar.org/logon/67241
The password is 4479. 

The way the calendar works is you sign up for a AM or PM visit.  The AM hours are from 10:30am-2:00pm, and the PM hours are 4:30-7:00pm.  Exact times are not important, its a loose idea of when people could sign up and visit with me.  Some basic tasks will be performed, perhaps a little cooking, maybe assistance with running errands, or just spending some time with me and drinking tea.  Directions to my house are on the site.  I encourage you to find some time you could help me.  I am grateful for any and all assistance you may be able to provide.  Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions. 

And I will leave you with the calendar, as well as some more quotes from "Visions of Johanna", as I bid adieu.  Sometimes, the lyrics read like a zen koan.

Much love,
Ande


"Little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously....   He sure got a lot of gall, to be so useless and all, muttering small talk at the wall, while I'm in the hall.  Oh how can I explain, its so hard to get on; and these Visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn."

"Inside the museums, infinity's going up on trial.  Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while.  But Mona Lisa must have had those highway blues you can tell by the way she smiles."

New Beginnings

The recent spell of brutally cold weather here in the Flathead Valley has altered quite a few courses.  Thankfully I am inside where it is warm and I am protected from the wind.  I've watched the wind blow with fierceness the past few days from a perched view in the hospital bed.  The look on many of the faces that come to visit me also tell the story of the bitter cold.  Temperatures were hovering in the really cold digits with a wind chill that was also really, really cold.  The actual numbers range considerably depending on who you spoke with, but lets just say wind chill factor in town was exceptionally frigid.  Apparently today was very cold too, although the wind was not as strong as the day before. 

Tonight I witnessed a gorgeous display of alpenglow with the entire Columbia range, in full view, wrapped in a spectrum of colors.  The last few days have been full of visitors and lots of wonderful activities.  My condition is certainly getting better with each passing day.  I am now able to sit up on my bed with relative ease, transfer to a walker, then to a wheelchair and I can move freely about from there.  There is a new found ease of execution at which I can perform these movements.  I am also able to sit up for much longer periods of time than previously.  All of the above has helped me tremendously, especially with all of the soreness and aching that has infiltrated my tailbone, lower back, and sitting bone areas, as it helps to get the blood flowing to different parts of the body.  The game for me now is to try and keep moving and shifting as much as possible.  It looks as though this will be the goal for the next few months.

The update on when I am going home is early-to-middle of next week.  There are some minor adjustments that need to take place and I may be looking or volunteers to assist with some of these activities, which include:  shoveling snow, installing shower bars, replacing shower head with a hand-held sprayer, and a few other minor projects.  If any of you are interested in performing any of the above this weekend, please give me a shout via email, telephone, facebook, etc.. 

Also to note is a calendar I will be creating for my time at home.  Many of you have been gracious enough to offer your help with whatever I need.  Well, I will be needing a lot of assistance as I move towards the home healing process.  The most important thing I will need is company, so I am creating a calendar that will allow you to sign up for various times of the day.  You will then be able to spend time with me and help with keeping me happy!  I will link this calendar to facebook and to my blog as soon as I get it created.  Thank you in advance for your help and assistance!  I certainly would not be feeling as good as I am if not for all of the wonderful love, energy, and support I have received from all of you :)

I can't elaborate enough on how good it feels to be back in Whitefish and North Valley Hospital.  From the comfortable surroundings, to the warm and friendly staff, the good variety of enjoyable food options, the extra care from the nurses, and the overall dedication to a philosophy that exudes from just about everyone I come into contact with.  Not only is everyone genuinely concerned about my health, but also more than happy to contribute whatever they can to assist with the healing process.  Its like having the wind at my back while riding a bike, encouraging me to keep going with relative ease while providing assistance with the process.

Time has a way of continuing on at a speed that is consistent and is absolutely fascinating to analyze.  I understand how the clock doesn't change pace, yet I am baffled by the clock's ability to remain constant despite the fluctuations that life interjects.  I like to watch the clock, hanging in the corner of my room, and actually time how long I spend doing certain activities.   Its like I have a microscope to really discover what I am doing with my time.  That said, I'm not sure I am in a position to elaborate what I have been doing with my time!  Its a strange phenomenon, really, documenting what one's day consists of and the time it takes to perform certain activities.

I can tell you that I have been playing several games of Scrabble, enjoying some good clean fun with friends.  There will be plenty more time available for some Scrabble, should any of you choose to get in on the action!  Another activity my day has been filled with is physical therapy.  I have been completing various exercises to keep my body moving and my muscles working, specifically those that have not been effected as much from the accident.  Its great to be peddling on a make shift bicycle, wheeling around the hallways in my wheelchair and terrorizing other patients, doing chair pushups, various stretches, leg exercises, and rowing motions.  All of these activities certainly break any stagnation that my body feels.  (I'm kidding about the terrorizing of other patients :)

I spoke earlier about the good food variety available here at the hospital.  On Wednesday I enjoyed sushi!  Yep, that's right, a couple of ahi tuna rolls, and some salmon rolls.  Talk about feeling normal again!  I have also enjoyed an asian stir fry, steak salads, lovely skillet breakfasts, and other exciting dishes, exceptional selections for being in a hospital.  Tonight my good friend's Peter and Kelly dropped by to offer some homemade raviolis and a delicious salad.  It was absolutely divine.  I have also been blessed with other wonderful homemade delights, like Randy Beach's tasty apple crisp and tamales, Elaine's vegan dessert dream, and a tasty brown rice stir fry from Jessica.  Many times people ask what they can bring prior to a visit.  I welcome any and all home cooked meals.  Free consultation provided by request only.

I also feel like quite the high profile guest here in the hospital.  Many of the administrative staff and the upper echelon crew have come to offer their best wishes.  The other day the CEO, Jason Spring, came in to check on me and ensure I was being taken care of.  He also thanked me for all of the kind words spoken on this blog about North Valley.  As well, he even mentioned they were considering changing a few systems based on some of the feedback I had given to one of the nurses regarding pain management.  All in all I feel like a very special guest and could not be happier given my current condition.

Even though yesterday (Thursday) was a great day, it came with a hefty price of situations.  To begin with, we had a wine dinner at the Restaurant to execute.  So without me or my sous chef there to participate, the back of the house had a significant challenge in front of them.  Preparing a seven course menu to be paired with wine is difficult enough.  Add to it the pipes freezing from the insanely cold weather, no water now available, and the situation was not looking good.  The fact that many of my staff members, particularly in the kitchen, have been working a lot more than usual, some of them on 10 or 12 day stretches, contributed even more to the stress.  When I heard about the pipes bursting in the mechanical room, horrific memories from the year before flooded my mind.  Thankfully the water was shut off immediately this time to negate any more damage being done.  None-the-less, we opted to cancel the wine dinner since we would be operating without water.  I think if I were there we would have made the event still happen and dealt with the difficulties, but given the circumstances and the knowledge of what my kitchen staff has already been through, we opted to shut it down and give everything and everybody a little break.  Tonight and this weekend will be very, very busy once again and we saw the importance of bringing everyone back a bit more refreshed.  With all that said, I am so proud of the job my staff is performing right now.   They have kept the operation maintained at the level we normally operate at while enduring the difficulties that continue to arise.  Something that is not easy to do and they deserve heaps of praise for staying the course.  This also marks one of my greatest achievements as a chef/owner.  Being able to consistently produce a quality dining experience at a high level is challenging enough when I am there, yet that is also to be expected.  The real truth lies in the ability of the Restaurant to continually execute, specifically if the chef is not present.  It not only signifies a fantastic staff, it reveals the true experience of how good the chef really is. 

My sous chef's, condition is finally known and a herniated disc is the culprit for all of the pain and discomfort he has been experiencing.  The bad news is this may require surgery, meaning that he will remain unavailable for the rest of the season.  My heart goes out to him as it is a very difficult time for him.  Life has a interesting way of dealing us hands we did not expect or ask for.  I'm thankful I can still recognize the hand that is dealt to me, and how to play accordingly.  I could never imagine the situation I am presently in, nor could I imagine it for my sous chef.  I can imagine, however, enjoying the game my soul is playing, while I work with my mind and body to develop a harmony that is conducive to staying in touch with spirit.  I can imagine this same dance is taking place for all of you on some deep level, whether you are aware or not, and those hands you are dealt become the catalyst for deciding on how to play them.  As in the words of the GD, "Sometimes, the cards aren't worth a dime, if you don't lay em down".

To keep with the exciting gross details of being in a hospital, especially while in the ICU, I would like to elaborate on the sensation of using a catheter.  To begin, this was probably one of the most feared ideas my mind has ever encountered.  I'm sure you are cringing right now if you are a guy.  If you don't know what a catheter is, google it, and be prepared to wince in pain.  In all actuality, however, the catheter is nothing to be afraid of.  Aside from an initial sting and temporary burn, there is relatively no pain or significant discomfort from having a catheter inserted into your body.  The other cool part of it is that you don't make an effort to pee, the catheter literally removes the urine right from your bladder.  In fact, I'll take a catheter any day of the week over a bandage removal in a tender spot.  I have been without a catheter for about a week now, and I most certainly prefer not having one in.  At any rate I thought I would clear the air about a understandably fearful medical necessity.

In reference to the thread title, there are new beginnings happening all around me.  Partially because my new room is located right next to the overflow for OB section.  So there are new babies, some of them introduced to this vast world merely hours before I hear their tender and innocent cries. I wonder what is going through their newborn minds.  'Confusion?  What happened to that wonderful warm place?'  I am enamored with the idea that new life is happening right next door to me.  I feel empowered with a sense of how much of an opportunity I have to begin anew, just like those precious babies.  I remember the concept of beginners mind and I am ready to slowly learn how to live fully once again.  My life and my purpose has always revolved around fulfillment, so there is no drastic change necessary.  What I imagine and intend is a stronger sense of balance between health, love, and community.

Lastly I will leave you with a poem I wrote to a friend on the same night that I had surgery.  This was probably the height of my drug induced consciousness.  It's interesting for me to read the blog knowing the various amounts of substances that were present throughout my recovery.  This poem gives a good look at the state of my "buzz" that evening.
In light and love,
andy


I'm just hanging out resting,
healing is a blessing,
pain is protesting,
ideas of investing,
medications are cresting,
relief is testing,
boundaries of festing,
spirit is professing,
levels of questing,
like a game of guessing,
this injury is ingesting
reflections of my life.

As positivity is molesting,
the path to nesting,
the road ahead is suggesting,
change will bring goodness,
lest I remain the same.

Time for healing

Hello everyone!

I am happy to report I am back in the welcoming arms of North Valley Hospital, here in Whitefish Montana. For those of you who are close and would like to visit, then come and see me sometime in room #120.  I am pretty much just lying around for most of the day.  Occasionally I'll have to do some work related stuff, but I generally have large portions of the day where I am able to complete whatever is necessary.  I also have a Scrabble board on hand; so if time allows, we can even battle.


There is a large sense of relief with me, particularly with regards to being back in North Valley Hospital.  I finally feel like I can actually begin healing.  My body, of course, has been busy healing for some time now, yet my mind also suffered a decent amount of trauma.  Most of this mental trauma likely occurred during the multiple methods of transport I endured between Whitefish and Spokane.  The story of the plane ride from WF to Spokane has been revealed on a previous blog post.  What I am about to tell you is the details from the four and one-half hour ambulance ride from Spokane to Whitefish.

My trip began with the thoughtful and considerate notification that I would be leaving in less than 15 minutes for Whitefish.  I hadn't even gotten full confirmation that it was going to happen that day.  The last I heard is that I had been cleared to be transported back and someone would be in touch to coordinate my departure.  Next thing I know a nurse is walking into the room and packing my stuff.  I had a few bags of things, mostly foods and teas, computer, books, etc., so it took all the 15 minutes to get everything packed and accounted for.  It was 1:45pm on Saturday afternoon and I had yet to eat anything substantial up to that point.  I was in no condition to travel at that moment, as I wanted to eat food, hydrate, and execute a few other necessary functions.  The ambulance drivers were ready to hit the road immediately upon arrival.  And just like that, I was placed into their padded ambulance bed and wheeled downstairs and outside.

I was very happy to leave Sacred Heart.  I knew that once I made it back to Whitefish, I would be in better spirits and much happier overall.  When we exited the hospital it was the first time I had been outside since my brief transfer on the way over.  I noticed how the air felt crisp and cool, as if the air tasted like a freshly picked, early morning cucumber.  I reveled in the way my skin felt familiar and at home with the cool air caressing my pores.  The color in the sky allowed my eyes to daze in wonder at the brilliant blue that painted the view.  This moment was brief, yet unforgettable.  I was cast quickly back to reality and the increasing disparity of the situation, when I began to inquire about my access to pain medication and the plan to deal with it while traveling.  My main concern was my level of comfort throughout the journey.  I had been assured, prior to leaving, by the hospital staff that I would be taken care of and would likely be bringing oral medication (i.e. Norcos) to help alleviate the pain and that IV medicine would be on board to assist with immediate comfort, if needed.  The ambulance crew explained they had fentanyl (similar to morphine), but they did not have very much of it and that it wouldn't really last that long.  They then proceeded to tell me that most people are pretty weak in general, so that if I could stay strong and only ask for the medicine if I really needed it, that it would help us get there quicker and the whole situation in general.  You can imagine my confusion at this point.  I explained my situation with the hospital and asked if we could go back in and grab a Norco for the ride, because it had been a few hours since the one before.  The crew mentioned that I was already discharged, so that might be more trouble than its worth.

I was a little surprised at this, albeit slightly ticked off, yet I wanted to get going.  So I chose not to push the issue any further.  Come to find out only one of the EMT's could actually administer the medicine, because of the different levels of being an EMT or whatever that means.  That may have been the reason they wanted to limit the pain medication, because the only guy who could give it wanted to drive.  I was also eager to hit the road, so they got me strapped in and we were about to leave when some people arrived at the back door of the ambulance.  It was two of my former culinary arts students, Melanie Chapel and Sean Mazur!!  They had been living in Spokane and heard about the accident and wanted to visit.  It was great to see them and start my journey that way :)  I was really happy to chat with them, if only for a few minutes, and see how well they were doing.  They brought me a croissant and a salted caramel margeline from the place where Melanie works, "Madelines".  How nice it was to eat such wonderful treats!  I saved them for my return, when I had time to savor each bite.  I said goodbye to Melanie and Sean as the door closed and the ambulance drove away.

I knew right away it was going to be a long haul.  The two main reasons, each standing out like normally dressed people at a costume party, were: the ambulance was already bumping (we were still in Spokane), and the EMT riding in the back with me was cuckoo.  I still remained optimistic about the journey at this point, even though said EMT was annoying me with his pestering questions and pointless stories.  The sunlight was beautiful and I loved the idea of moving after being laid up in a room for so long.  But that damn nuisance was right there, grabbing my arm and placing in on his leg while checking my blood pressure.  WTF is up with that?  I kept trying to keep my arm at my side, like I normally do when nurses are checking blood pressure, but this guy would grab my arm.  I thought he was hitting on me.  I think I might have confirmed he was hitting on me when we stopped, at Lookout pass, so I could pee in the "don't drink that" water bottle.  When the EMT just sat there, next to me, I made sure I covered up good and just did what I could to release 600 cc (20oz) from my bladder and handed it to him.

I was in fairly significant pain at this point and asked for the pain medication.  My IV receptacle that I had in my arm was no longer able to receive fluids, which we soon discovered, so instead of replacing that IV base, they decided to just shoot the fentanyl in my shoulder.  So now I am getting a shot of pain medication and my shoulder begins to convulse, the muscles freak out at this new substance and immediately dance, the EMT administering the shot began massage the muscles until they relaxed.  Thankfully it wasn't the cuckoo EMT, although I am sure he was a little jealous at that point.  Most of my pain was coming from my sit bones, my ass, and my lower back.  The ambulance bed was not extremely comfortable, it reminded me more of an amusement park seat than a patient care type vessel.  If the ambulance was a theme park ride, then the thrill was to endure the experience.  I discovered a great way to endure this challenge, I fell asleep.

Gone was the EMT while I was asleep.  I was free to dream and relax until being jolted awake and reminded that I am in a uncomfortable ambulance ride with a nutcase next to me.  The guy had good intentions, he just wanted them to be known a little too much- by any means necessary.  I remember when I had just about fallen asleep and he was busy talking.  Then he says "Are you sleeping?  Oh wait, I think you might be sleeping.  Well, I'll just ask you later then."

By the time we made it back to North Valley, I was once again totally scarred from a traumatic transportation trip.  As soon as we walked in I was greeted with familiar faces, smiles, and warm regards.  It was good to be back!  I laughed when North Valley said "We were expecting you tomorrow!"  'Of course, you were, of course, I mean, its not like the hospital was going to call you and inform you I left today, why would they do that?'  Typical, typical of my experience in Spokane.  Thankfully North Valley has their stuff together and was quickly able to accommodate the ball dropping by Sacred Heart.  When I saw the walls, the trim, the carpet, the hardwood floors, the paintings, and the content staff all around me, I smiled and realized I can begin healing now.

My first night back was great, I was so tired from the journey I didn't spend too much time awake.  I did enjoy seeing Carmen (one of the nurses) again and was so excited to know I was in good hands.  Saturday night and Sunday night have been my two best nights of rest since the accident!  I can actually sleep for more than 3 hours at a time now :)  I am confident I will get plenty of rest tonight too.  Yesterday (Sunday) was a wonderful day, beginning with a colorful sunrise over the Columbia Mtn Range and a morning visit from my friend Stephenie.  Later that day my family also came by and visited for a while.  We all agreed how much we appreciate being at North Valley.

My movement is tremendous now.  I can sit up in bed by myself, boost up to standing in a walker, pivot on my left leg and transfer to a wheelchair (yippee!), and then from there can actually find really cool places- like the bathroom for instance.  Its a pretty big deal, getting up and moving around, and its something I am doing a couple times a day for some movement.  But to have a good range of movement with a decent amount of upper body strength has helped my progress immensely.  The biggest issue I have right now is intense pain in my sit bones, my ass, my lower back, and my hips.  I keep trying to pinpoint the problem and why that its happening, saying things such as:  'oh it must be from the ambulance ride, i am just sore from laying in bed, maybe its the way I slept last night, or all that time I spent in the wheelchair'.  What is really hilarious is what others will say when they here this, "or its because you just fractured both pelvis and several vertebrae".  Oh yeah, I guess it could come from that also :)

The news came by today to film a small segment on my recovery process.  It was the local NBC affiliate and the piece aired on the 5pm news.  I actually wanted the interview to happen tomorrow, as I was hoping to "bulk" up a little more.  Two of my favorite nurses both mentioned, as soon as I got back to North Valley, "wow you have lost some weight!  What did they do to you in Spokane?"  I actually have been eating a lot since being back in Whitefish, it makes me feel like myself again.  Anyway here is a link to the story that aired tonight:

http://www.nbcmontana.com/news/26945839/detail.html

Here is the video:

http://www.nbcmontana.com/video/26945728/index.html

Today was a great day.  Full of visits with friends and families, a couple games of Scrabble, some tasty dinner, all in all a way to celebrate President's day in style (does anyone actually celebrate this holiday?).  My room is full of flowers again, colorful tulips, orchids, blends, and lilies.  Its good to be back here.  I'm not sure how long I'll remain, but I do know that I am happy to be here.  I believe in the healing process and can't wait to learn more about myself.

Thanks for staying connected :)  Here are a few photos from the penguin plunge from Whitefish Winter Carnival in early February

(first pic looks like I am having second thoughts..)

 By the way, the penguin plunge was awesome!  I would definitely do again!  It might have to be a sunny day, however, as I can't even imagine a windy, cold, overcast day..  Yikes!

Enjoy, with love,
andouille

Many Rivers to Cross

Dear Friends and Family,

It is late on Friday night or early on Saturday morning, depending on how you view it, and I am feeling particularly feisty.  There are many factors that contribute to my current state of being, but the one that ultimately pervades all is the celebration of passing a bowel movement.  The last time this occasion happened was last Sunday, midday, and the building pressure was becoming almost too much to handle.  It was two days ago that I began taking things to expedite this process, such as laxatives and/or stool softeners, and just when I thought we would be headed for the last resort option (i.e. enema), the dam finally broke.  I have experienced a deep sense of relief and accomplishment that ranks up there with some of my greatest achievements.  It seems silly to think this once daily occurrence, that I most definitely took for granted, could become such a challenging task.  Surely the heavy use of opiates over the last week has not aided the cause of regular digestion, although to go five or more days is relatively extreme given the circumstances.

This is particularly good news for many reasons.  Not only can get myself up out of bed to use a bedside toilet, the movement also clears me for travel back to Whitefish.  I don't know if I will be leaving tomorrow (Saturday), but I am confident that if I do not leave tomorrow I will be leaving on Sunday for sure.  Another factor contributing to me feeling feisty is the amount of visitors in the last 48 hours.  Last night a beloved yogini and Anusara inspired teacher Bonnie Kiser, and her husband Scott, stopped by to see me, unexpectedly, en route to their vacation in the Florida Keys.  They were flying out of Spokane so they drove over to spend the night before their morning flight.  It was so wonderful to see both of them.  Bonnie is one of my favorite people to practice yoga with.  She embodies a balance of power and grace that is both beautiful and admirable.  She is almost always at the 3 hour practice in Polson and she is my favorite person to place my mat next to.  She reminded me how much my yoga practice will assist with my healing process, and how they are one in the same, more or less.  I was stunned at their surprise visit and very happy to be able to spend some time with them.  Here is a picture of the two of them:

An aptly named title for the journey ahead, there are many rivers to cross indeed.  I reached a critical point earlier today that challenged my will and attitude towards this whole experience of healing.    It was probably the first time I actually felt like crying, frustration bubbling up through my being, the pain of my condition began to take hold.  Its not like the pain has worsened; in fact, its only gotten better over time.  Nor has my mobility been stagnant, as the movements have been my greatest inspiration to be able to view my progress over time.  What it is has to do with; however, is the pressure beginning to take hold, threatening to strangle my attitude as well as my approach to this entire process.  A major part of this pressure building was the activities currently taking place at the Restaurant, that I will now share with you.

Yesterday morning (Thursday) I received a call from my Sous Chef indicating that the nerves in his back have seized up so much, that he was headed to see a doctor.  He could barely walk and was struggling with severe pain, both crippling and debilitating.   The irony here is that his hips and his back have been a source of pain for some time now, the same major ailments that plague my current condition.  So after his visit with the doctor he would need to be off his feet for a minimum of 4 days, with the outlook closer to 5-7 days.  Here we are heading into our second busiest weekend of the season (outside of Xmas/New Years stretch), due to the fact that its President's Day weekend, and the Sous Chef would be unavailable.  So we went with our next option, one of my lead line cooks, who is essentially the number three guy (behind me and my sous).

So I spent a good portion of the day yesterday communicating with my number four cook to figure out what condition the Restaurant is in.  Since we change the menu nightly, it was imperative I got a full assessment of how much product we had on hand, current menu items, available staff, sauces, prep lists, etc..  Basically I had to operate the kitchen from my hospital bed in Spokane with only a telephone to communicate what needed to happen.  My number three guy was also feeling very ill due to a stomach virus.  After about 4-5 hours of working with my cooks, ensuring product was ordered for the weekend, designing a menu that could be easily executed while utilizing perishable goods, and just overall planning the evening as if I would be there but am not, I somehow managed to set the kitchen crew up for success.  It was a difficult evening for them, although from the sound of it everything went fairly well considering the circumstances. 

And that was Thursday.  And it wore me out having to shift my focus from healing to managing the Restaurant.  None-the-less its part of what I do everyday when we are open, so the concept was not foreign to me.  Being severely injured, with limited mobility, and having hospital staff in and out of the room wanting to run tests and check in on all kinds of things was foreign to me though, and made for a very eventful day.  I'll spare the details, but lets just say I was extremely busy balancing everything from the bed.

And then there was today.  So if it was hard yesterday, my task was doubled today when I found out my number three guy is so sick from the stomach flu that he would likely not be able to work.  It is situations like these when the thought of actually closing the Restaurant comes into play.  Even though it is a last resort, I live by the philosophy that failure is not an option.  And closing the Restaurant, on one of the busiest weekends of the year, seemed like failure.  Part of what I have been trying to maintain is the level and quality at which the Restaurant has become famous for operating at.  I want to clearly send a message through the staff and local community that despite me being in a hospital, the Restaurant is still operating "business as usual".  I am still very much involved in what is taking place there, even though so many that are close to me suggest I let it go.  But that is not an option right now, with the reputation of all of our hard work and energy at stake, considering the back of the house staff is depleted like the peace in Egypt.

The whole idea is that none of our guests would notice the difference of me not being there.  I have worked extremely hard, as have my staff, over the last few months, to ensure the continuity of the program and that our mission remains intact whether I am cooking at the Restaurant or not.  Ever since my accident this idea has been spotlighted, and now the last few days it has been amplified.

So with the news this morning I began placing phone calls to various people I knew could handle the daunting task of working a challenging station, our Saute position, to fill in for this emergency situation.  Knowing I had my number four, five, and six guys available to maintain their roles, I needed someone that could fill in.  My first three choices were unavailable, and I went with a friend of mine who used to be a sous chef for me about 5 years ago.  It took a major adjustment and reduction of the menu in order to make this even remotely possible.  I did what I could do from my hospital bed and communicated with my back of the house staff the best I could, arranging them to be able to execute the menu with essentially a brand new person in the kitchen (a lot has changed in five years).  From 11am PST to 5:30pm PST, I was on the phone, either with my friend who volunteered his services, my dining room manager/sommelier, my number four guy, our on speakerphone with the entire kitchen crew managing prep lists and delegating tasks so that we would be prepared.  The doors to the Restaurant open at 5:30pm MST, and I was still on the phone giving directions on how the night would take place, right up until the first few orders came through the kitchen. 

We did the best we could.  I gave it all I had.  I don't know if it was enough or not, but in the end it had to be.  In talking with my number four guy after service, he said it was busy and crazy but that we pulled through and made it happen.  I was too exhausted to probe any further and get full feedback on the night from my front of the house crew.  I am guessing it was as good as it could have been.  No news is generally good news.  I am anxious to find out the results tomorrow when I have more energy to review the evening.  Funny thing is tomorrow night (Saturday) is going to be the peak of the weekend with the busiest evening yet.

So we are back at square one, more or less, with regards to tomorrow.  It will be another tremendous challenge, but we will do what we always do, which is just enough to survive.  In this business, as long as the show goes on out front to the diners, it matters not the craziness that takes place backstage.  It is very similar to a theater production, the audience will only see what takes place on stage.  Thankfully the front of the house staff is both talented and experienced, and they also are fully in tact.  Although I wouldn't be surprised if something happened to one of them before tomorrow's shift at the rate things are going.

My number three guy should be available, giving the back of the house staff and added boost, and I will likely spend another 3-4 hours on the phone tomorrow directing traffic from my bed.  These are all duties my sous chef would normally perform, so with him being out it is up to me to conduct the crew.  I hope you can now see why I felt like cracking and folding under all the intense pressure that existed today.

They say diamonds and other precious gems are made this way, from intense pressure and heat.  I have always believed that the harder the challenge, the sweeter the success.  Life is unique in that way and I look forward to tasting the nectar of delight following this enduring phase.

I would finally like to share another story about an unexpected visit today from Jenni Fallein and her husband Roger.  She too is a yogini and a teacher, yet she is also an amazing musician.  I've had the pleasure and honor to attend some of her Kirtan's in the past and she is absolutely incredible.  You could imagine my surprise when they walked through the door.  Here is a picture of them:

Later in the day, when my family was gone, I was off the phone, and the pressure was mounting to that critical point, what saved me was a chant that Jenni normally includes in her Kirtan.  Because of her visit I was reminded that I have these mantras available to me, it was through this healing sound that I was able to reconnect with the energy that has got me this far.  The chant is:

jaya ganesha, jaya ganesha, jaya ganesha pahiman
sri ganesha, sri ganesha, sri ganesha rakshaman

I sang this over and over.  The healing properties are beyond wisdom, thought, and medicine.  Ganesh is the remover of obstacles.  I have no doubt that this greatly aided in my ability to pass the bowel movement.  I also have no doubt that moving forward, the breath and mantras will assist me with crossing the many rivers that are still flowing.

Oh, and finally, for the second year in a row, I was nominated as "Best Chef in the NW region" by the James Beard Award Foundation!!!