I’ve been coming and going on CareCure for almost 10 years now. Many of you know me as a radical conservative shit-disturber who flings it over in the Politics forum. That’s only a recent incarnation, though, as you old timers know I’ve been an active Cure advocate since my injury, my father and I leading the Prop. 71 Stem Cell charge here in Northern California. I’ve been peer counseling new SCIs for a long time as well, until 3 years ago when the first of many MRSA infections erupted, leaving me with a stage 4, 6cm-deep pressure wound on my right ischium that’s proven to be my undoing.

I raced off-road for over 30 years, faced some of the toughest, most aggressive men anywhere, yet a microscopic bug has absolutely OWNED me…

Well over a year ago, I went in for skin flap surgery to repair this wound. I announced my departure here at CC, yet almost immediately, the procedure failed and I have been on an endless infection cycle since then. Why? My bone became infected with osteomylitis, and though I’ve been going to seasoned, best-in-the-world doctors and specialists, only recently, after a second surgery to cut even more bone away, has the infection abated, finally. It has been a nightmare of confidence and spirit-crushing misery; I don’t wish osteomylitis on anybody, nasty shit which has kept the doctors guessing and my wound and flap from healing.

I haven’t had the strength since November to do much more than exist; lately, though, I’m finally feeling better, the infection appears to be under control, to the degree that my surgeons have finally decided we can do the flap and the infection SHOULDN’T impede my healing. Yeah, shouldn’t…

At any rate, I go in on Thursday. Gonna slip out to Tomales Bay at midnight tomorrow, spend the wee hours with my wife before the water, get loaded at sunrise and then head into San Francisco for the procedure.

My surgeon is a cautious man, but he feels this is my best chance to heal this thing and get back to living. Man, do I want to get back to living…

I’ve gotten a couple emails since I started posting last week again, couple guys who think I’m some depressed, negative asshole. I am not depressed or negative, ever; oh, I may be an asshole, but a ‘down’, gloomy, cynical guy, no, not me. I may be forceful, even arrogant, but it is my confidence and belief in self that’s allowed me to race and ride all over the world, to survive paralysis and continue loving Life, and to be able to make it through each and every minute of this living hell, this MRSA/osteo misery.

Oh, I’ll rise from this wound, just as I’ll rise from this chair, one day, soon in geologic times, though not soon enough; still, I’ll get there and I’ll walk again but before then I’ll return here to kick and be kicked and to engage and share in this life paralyzed with all you brothers and sisters in misery.

To those I’ve offended, I mean no harm; to those I’ve encouraged, well, roll up a fat one o’ the Cush, somebody get me a Fuente Hemingway and a shot of some good cognac, and let’s share some pleasant moments, shall we?

Onward…