Don’t Tell My Physical Therapist

Published 2014-08-28

The words of the surgeon cut through my oxy codone soaked brain more effectively than his scalpel through my shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… but I think we might have to go back in there.” We sat and looked at each other blankly. I came to two realizations during this silence (1) I wouldn’t ride my bike again this summer, and (2) you shouldn’t purchase used body parts from Belgrade MT.

The bike crash I experienced on the summer solstice has resulted in two surgeries, 10 weeks in a sling, and god knows how many pain killers. I have two more weeks before I can begin to move my arm out of the sling, without weight. To say the summer hasn’t been the best would be an understatement, so when my friend Jay Beyer gave me a chance to go into Yellowstone on a backpacking fly fishing trip, I jumped at the opportunity. Although I couldn’t cast, the idea of sleeping out in the backcountry had me in a whole new state of mind. I traded out my pouty pants for a pair of waders and headed to West Yellowstone to meet the boys. Dana had previously built me a yoke with one shoulder pad so I was able to carry in just enough to get by. Sleeping pad and bag, R1 top and bottom, a pound each of summer sausage and pepper jack cheese, 6 tortillas, 2 beers, a pint of Fireball and my camera. I only made a couple of unsuccessful left-handed casts, but watched dozens of fish get caught and missed, and had a barrel of laughs over many miles. There was endless rain and a touch of snow but needless to say it still felt good to get back on my feet.