Kayaking at East Canyon Reservoir with TRAILS.

Putting water to good use.

Last week I went kayaking at East Canyon Reservoir with my wife Jayne and my friends from TRAILS (Technology, Recreation, Access, Independence, Lifestyle and Sports). TRAILS is the comprehensive outreach program of the Rehabilitation Center at University of Utah Hospital for individuals with spinal cord injury or disease.

Dr. Jeffrey Rosenbluth healing mind and body.

It’s the brainchild and passion of Dr. Jeffrey Rosenbluth, director of the Spinal Cord Rehabilitation Center. The goal is to get patients reactivated and socially plugged in through recreation, education, and wellness programs. Spinal cord injury or not, everyone needs the opportunity to go outside and play to be healthy in mind and body.  

Tanja Kari in her natural habitat, winning gold at the 2002 Paralympics.

TRAILS, under the daily guidance of  Paralympic gold medal winning nordic skier and Finnish wonder woman Tanja Kari, has put together year round programs and adaptive equipment that make it possible for everyone to get out and go whether on land, in the water or on the snow, regardless of physical ability.

There's a floating craft for everyone regardless of ability.

That’s why they sponsor events like the annual Kayaking and Sailing Camp every summer.  It was mega fun. They have an array of water toys suitable for everyone, from people like  me--mobile quadriplegics who can walk and have full, but impaired use of all their limbs--to true quadriplegics, who cannot use any limbs and rely on technology like sip and puff.

Sip and Puff technology makes sailing accessible to everyone.

Sip and puff is a high tech system that allows someone who can't move any limbs to put things into motion by sipping or puffing air into a straw.  They can control the direction of a sailboat by sipping or puffing, which causes electric motors to move rudders back and forth. With a little help from somebody who can help launch the boat and tend to the sails, they can have the same sailing experience as an able bodied person.  It also works on snow, on a sit-ski.

My wife Jayne paddling in the front seat.

On this day I shared a tandem kayak with my wife Jayne, me in the back seat.  It was a perfect day-- calm water, sunny, not too hot.  Paddling along in the quiet morning with just the sound of the oar slapping the water is one of those times you’d like to bottle and save for a cold wintry day.  It took a while, but we finally got our cadence synchronized and made some good headway.

Adaptive equipment like outriggers make kayaking accessible to everyone.

We were joined by Andy Dahmen, another spinal cord injury survivor, and Wendy, a volunteer with TRAILS, and an expert kayaker.  East Canyon reservoir is only 41 miles from my home, yet we were a million miles from our everyday existence.  Mother Nature has a way of cleansing our souls if we only give her the opportunity.

Removing the wheels from Andy Dahmen's kayak.

I’m fortunate to have fairly good balance, hand and arm strength, so I didn’t need any adaptive equipment, just a stable kayak with a slightly wider hull.   Andy’s injury is more severe than mine, so he needs a bit more help.  No problem.  A kayak with outriggers and paddles with Velcro straps to aid hand strength were readily available.  It also had removable wheels, so he could transfer from his wheelchair into the kayak and then be wheeled into the water.

Andy Dahmen getting underway.

We all paddled together and I can promise Andy's enjoyment matched mine, based on the smile on his face.  Truth is, Andy does a lot of river running and is a true outdoorsman, wheelchair or not. He’s the perfect example of how the strength of the human spirit can overcome just about anything given the right support…the kind that TRAILS provides.

On the water, with Andy and Wendy leading the way.

It didn’t take long for my arms to start feeling the effects of paddling, so we returned to shore after about ninety minutes of gliding across the smooth green waters of East Canyon Reservoir. When we got to shore, we were greeted by Tanja and Dr. Rosenbluth, who dragged our kayak far enough up on shore so I could get out on dry land.  They make it so easy to have fun.

Jayne and me with tired arms and big smiles.  

Driving home, we basked in the calm that descended upon us while on the water.  We both commented on the powerful uplifting we felt from such a brief interlude from our daily routine.  That’s the beauty of living in Salt Lake City, which is literally surrounded by mountains, lakes and rivers.   Mostly, it's the desired result that TRAILS wants for all of its participants: a life changed for the better, regardless of physical ability.  Once again, mission accomplished,

Out Of The Pain Cave, Into The Water

Knee replacements are commonplace these days.  Baby Boomers are taking a number and getting in line so they can get back to running, skiing, playing tennis, pick-up games of hoops, touch football, soccer or any other form of Weekend Warrior nonsense that ruined their knee(s) in the first place. Maybe they didn’t do any of the above and just had crappy knees to begin with. Mine was compliments of a bone-head motorcycle wreck when I was 16.

 If it was only turbocharged.

The fact that they’re commonplace doesn’t make recovery a routine experience. There’s a reason why the medical folks pound into your head the pain scale of 1 to 10.  You get to experience the whole spectrum.  Regardless, my knee had to be fixed.  Going up stairs was torture. Riding a bike was nigh impossible.

Dr. Thomas Rosenberg

So April 14, 2016, I put myself into the extremely capable hands of Dr. Thomas Rosenberg, renowned knee specialist and founder of Rosenberg Cooley Metcalf orthopedic clinic at Park City Medical Center.  He assured me that even with neurological issues from my spinal cord injury, I could still benefit and have a full recovery if I work hard.  Key words: “work hard”.

First steps three hours post op.

Surgery went well. Fast forward past the first two weeks of hell on earth, with muscle spasms, an uncooperative bladder, multiple catheterizations and daily doses of hydrocodone.  Fast forward beyond the home health care physical therapist prodding me to walk into the other bedroom one more time.  Keep going past the grueling therapy sessions at the University of Utah Orthopedic Center to the present, 14 weeks post op.

A special day: swimming with Erika.

Still walking with trekking poles on a weakened right leg, I find myself doing laps with my 36 year- old daughter Erika at Cottonwood Heights Rec Center--me with one good leg and her with one good arm.  Her left arm has virtually no range of motion due to an improperly used post-operative pain pump that destroyed the cartilage in her shoulder after a minor shoulder surgery.  Fourteen unsuccessful attempts to implant an artificial shoulder resulted in nothing more than ghastly staph infections and a railroad track scar from elbow to neck.

              

Me with one good leg.

Erika with one good arm.

Thanks to the magical weightlessness of water, we’re swimming side by side, exulting in the joy of physical exertion as we adapt our minds and our bodies to doing things differently rather than sitting on the sidelines. I’m using “speed fins” with small holes in them to provide some extra propulsion with a minimum of strain on my leg.  She’s holding a kick board under her left arm and swimming only with her right arm, with amazing results.

Adapting mind and body is a quest I’ve been on since breaking my neck in 1972.  Erika's journey began in 2004, when shoulder surgery resulted in the loss an arm and the beginning of a lifelong autoimmune disorder known as CIDP (Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy).  The struggles for both of us are enough to fill the book that I'm working on.

A work in progress. Success ahead!

The final chapter of this post is that I have emerged from the pain cave, there is recovery ahead, and I’m cherishing a special time with my only daughter, as we both say “no way” to our potentially devastating physical challenges.