Author: Todd Nickel

2020 week forty two + one

Book Read
28. Win at All Costs — Matt Hart

Kilometres Ran
since week thirty one — 69.8

2020 to date: 2,002 KM

Kilometres Cycled
since week thirty one — 325.8*

2020 to date: 2,163 KM**

Matt Hart is a freelance journalist whose writing about endurance sports, sports science, and performance-enhancing drugs has appeared in the New York Times, the Atlantic, Outside and elsewhere. I first heard about this book exploring the shady side of Nike, Alberto Salazar and the Nike Oregon Project back in the spring, looked for a copy and saw that it wasn’t being published until the fall, and then forgot about it. Then in mid September Alex Hutchinson posted on Outside his Fall Book List and included it. I re-exhausted my usual review copy channels and forgot about it again. But this isn’t about my memory issues (or is it…). Staring down Thanksgiving long weekend on an island away from my Appalachian adventures on XBoxOne I looked for a book to get me through four days of tryptophania, and remembered I hate Nike. I read this in about a day. I could not put it down. I’ve made no secret of my dislike for Nike for quite some time so this did feel a bit like literary disaster tourism, but I felt special anguish for how Nike treated Adam and Kara Goucher. Especially tough for me is what to do with the NOP jacket and hoodie I own – burn them? But they’re so damn nice. I mean, put a stylish skull on just about anything and you’ll probably have my attention. (Except you, UA. You haven’t got a chance.) NOP is the main target of Hart’s book, but the whole of Nike culture is in his crosshairs including, albeit making just barely a cameo appearance, the shoes that changed (ruined) everything. You should definitely read it.

Back at the beginning of July I signed up for the 5 Peaks run / bike Great Canadian Crossing – 365 days to run and bike 4,800 KM “across Canada.” It seemed like a fun idea and I figured that barring some *disaster* averaging a little over 13 KM per day for a year would be pretty easy. After all, on July 1, I was on pace to run over 3,300 KM in 2020, and this was a run + bike challenge. Piece of cake!

Bike ride to nowhere.

On August 3 I was hit by a dumb fuck in a truck (DFIAT) while cycling on the Sea to Sky Highway. I remember lying on the asphalt in agony and asking someone at the scene to stop my watch, thereby adding another 70 KM to my Great Canadian Crossing challenge, which put me at 960 KM of running and cycling after 34 days; 513 KM ahead of pace. For the next couple months I’d watch my lead slowly evaporate 13 KM per day. At the beginning of September my physio- and concussion therapists gave me permission to get back on my bike, on my CycleOps trainer. The rules were I had to be able to get on and off without putting my still ragged body in danger, no weight bearing with my right arm, beginning with 5 minutes and adding one minute per day as long as concussion and physiology allowed. I immediately discovered that bike’s speed sensor did not survive the crash, which meant that my indoor bike rides to nowhere were indeed to nowhere. After each activity, first 5 minutes, then six, then seven, I would get an automated notification from the Great Canadian Crossing challenge congratulating me on my 0.00 KM bike ride and showing dwindling lead on pace, culminating in finally falling into the red on my ninth ride nowhere.

Two days later my replacement speed sensor arrived in the mail, and my eleventh ride on the training earned me 6.82 fake kilometres towards my fake trek across Canada. I would continue on adding a minute each day until I reach 30 minutes and then I thought I’d give my head a shake.

First SPLoop of post-DFIAT era.

So on September 30 I took my bike outside for a couple loops of Stanley Park just to see what would happen because I was genuinely curious to see what would happen. A couple days before I was overthinking about it and got to thinking that maybe I think it’s going to be tough to get back on my bike because I think that I’m supposed to think it’s going to be tough to get back on my bike. And I wanted to find out what would happen in my head. I was mad, that’s what happened. I had a bit of concussion symptoms come on during SPLoop two but other than headache and nausea and ragey-rage it was “fine.” I mean “fine” as in I expected to be really nervous; I was not. I’ve (still) not yet been on the highway so who knows what will happen there then, but for now I’m just mad at DFIAT. And my head hurts. And my shoulder hurts. And my ribs and back and arm hurt. But otherwise….

Physio during a pandemic, or ANTIFA meeting…or both?

I used to be pretty good about posting on here weekly but I haven’t written here or much elsewhere – especially about my recovery – because my lawyer warned me that ICBC trolls will be trolling for any excuse to limit my claim. But he works on commission, so…. Anyway, hi ICBC trolls! GFY! Running is what I really love and miss the most and DFIAT took that away and I’m still pretty mad about it, in case you didn’t notice. And so the orthopaedic surgeon and my GP and my physiotherapist and my concussion therapist all set up these hurdles for me to clear before I was allowed to run again and I proceeded to smash them so they all finally acquiesced. I mean, that’s the story I’m going with. Like the 5 minutes plus-a-minute on the bike, they allowed me to run a pretty strict (read: embarrassing) run/walk program. I set them all PRIVATE on Strava. (Curiously, they all still counted towards my Cross Canada total.) Then on Thanksgiving Saturday I took a break from reading about the dumpster fire that is Nike (see review above) and went for a proper run.

For the past two years I’ve woken up on the Saturday of Thanksgiving long weekend in Oak Bay and gone for a 5-and-a-bit kilometre shake out run before the Victoria Marathon (2018) and Victoria Half Marathon (2019) the following Sunday. I’d been run-walking and hating it a half dozen times and decided to see if I could string together 5 Kontinuous. So I did. It hurt a lot. Recovery from my encounter with DFIAT is proving to be, like this blog post, frustratingly long. I have spent a lot of time thinking about recover and what that really means. I mean, there’s the tangible stuff like, will this scarring on my face, hands, shoulder, side knees, ever go away? Will my ribs and clavicle ever stop looking like they’re desperately trying to escape my torso? Probably not. I haven’t quite accepted yet that I might never get full mobility back in my right arm. I haven’t talked about realizing I’m addicted to pain medication when I started trying to ween myself off. (My GP isn’t concerned, implies it’s normal given the circumstances.) It makes me really mad. A couple days before I met DFIAT I went for a pretty casual 21.1 KM run in 1:36 just for the Strava HM badge. Last weekend I ran 5K in 28 minutes and very nearly died. (Different kind of nearly died.) Part of recovery means getting back to being able to go for a casual 100 KM bike ride after a casual 96 minute half marathon. I am recovering. Some things I might never recover. Others are still a very long way off.

Today a thing happened that should have happened months ago and although it’s Monday and I typically write these by the week ending Sunday I thought I’d squeeze it in because who knows when I’m going to write again. Blame lawyer. No, blame ICBC. Today I went for a run out to Siwash Rock and back. It was an otherwise insignificant run except that I was alive and (ahem, mostly) able to do so but somewhat significantly it was my 1,000 run of all time on Strava and the run in which I passed 2,000 KM running in 2020. I should have passed those milestones months ago. I should be proud of them but they mostly just make me angry.

*As I wrote above, for 10 days I rode the trainer with 0.00 KM credited due to a busted speed sensor. Which begs the question, if I’m counting my kilometres since my encounter with DFIAT, do kilometres on a cycle trainer count? (I think they do.) But what if there’s nothing to measure them? If a concussed cripple cycles 95 minutes on a trainer and there’s no speed sensor to track the fake distance…you see where I’m going with this.

**Following along from * above, beginning with 5 minutes, and adding one minute per day for 10 days, equals 95 minutes at an average 27 km/h (roughly, guessing based on trainer spins #11 through #24) or approx. (you think I planned this but I did not) one marathon. So, since DFIAT my totals are closer to 368 KM, and 2,205 so far this year. But Strava says zero and we all know if it’s not on Strava it didn’t happen.

2020 week thirty six

Stuff Read
27. Hostage – Guy Delisle
Fat Shaming Shouldn’t Be Part of Our “New Normal” – Erica Thorkelson (The Walrus)

2020 Running to Date
1,905.5 KM

2020 Cycling to Date
1,805.6 KM

Days Without Strava Activity: 31

I used to write these on Sunday but it’s been Monday for a month so I guess Wednesday is fine. Stephanie picked up this Drawn and Quarterly graphic novel for me because she’s shares my appreciation for dry wit. It tells the true story of Christophe André who was kidnapped in 1997 while working in Chechnya for Doctors Without Boarders. It follows André for nearly 500 pages of him not much else than chained to a radiator. And yet, it is a very compelling story. I was engrossed from start to finish. I heard Erica Thorkelson talk about this piece she wrote for The Walrus on CBC Early Edition with Stephen Quinn the other morning and it was good so I figured I should give it a read and it is very good. It opens with some fit shaming that is an unfortunate distraction from the rest of the piece, which has really important things to say about fatphobia and especially how fat bodies are treated (abhorrently) by the medical profession in particular, as well as by society in general. Thorkelson draws on her personal relationship to weight and her body, and her decision to stop weighing herself. She encourages her readers to do the same. I don’t share her position – I weigh myself frequently – but I understand why she has chosen not to and I think she makes a good case. Her personal, authentic experience is not up for debate. The piece is frank and honest. I think everyone should read it.

Brian Jungen’s Cetology (2002) installation at the Vancouver Art Gallery. I took a bunch of pain medication and went to see it on its final day Sunday. The room made it impossible to get a full shot without a fish-eye lens. This photo has nothing to do with any of this. I just love this piece of art and I’m very happy I finally got to see it in person. Cetology is one of three whale skeletons made of resin lawn chairs. The first, Shapeshifter (2000), is in the collection of the National Gallery of Canada.

I’m thankful every damn day that I live in Canada and don’t have to deal with an American style healthcare system, but that doesn’t mean that it is without some significant problems. Thorkelson talks about some of them in her piece, and I told a story last post here about my adventures in pain management. Another frustration I’ve had is the fact that soon after my crash it became rather apparent that I’d suffered a head injury that has been acknowledged while in hospital but otherwise shrugged off. I’ve since determined that what probably happened is the load of lumber that struck me hit my head just under my helmet. It was Stephanie who first noticed the lump on my head on my right just above my ear. My lawyer has since confirmed that, through witness accounts, I most certainly lost consciousness. I was sure that I hadn’t, but my injuries and memory tell another story. It’s pretty clear from my knees, hands, shoulder and side (not to mention my helmet, sunglasses and cycling kit) that I got a good slide on the asphalt after I hit the ground. I remember going down, but I have no recollection of the slide. I have consistently raised alarm that I have an acknowledged yet untreated head injury. My file was handed from Lions Gate to VGH Trauma, which meant weekly xrays of my punctured lung followed by telephone consultations with the trauma doctor. The lung was their primary concern, but I at least got them to put a referral into the concussion centre. This was followed finally by a call from GF Strong who first needed to know if this was a WorkSafeBC or ICBC claim. I handled that question like a champ who has ten fractured bones and on a powerful narcotic pain medicine that does an okay but not excellent job, and comes with a plethora of side effects that include constipation, nausea and irritability: “I was hit by a negligent driver while cycling, so I guess it’s ICBC but frankly I don’t fucking care who’s paying; I just want someone to treat my head injury.” GF Strong replied that they’d get back to me. Next call with the trauma doctor and I tell her about my call with GF Strong, including my vocalized frustration and that I haven’t heard from them since and they say they will follow up. Soon after I get a follow up call from GF Strong, and the person on the line regales me with a long list of resources that are available to me because my injury is an ICBC claim, but in fact since XX date (they tell me the date, but I don’t remember) the Vancouver Coastal Health concussion centre at GF Strong is no longer able(?) allowed(?) to provide concussion treatment to ICBC claimants. So, long (boring, sorry) story short, I’m struggling to get treatment for my head injury, and the trauma doctor refers me to the one place in VCH that cannot or will not treat someone with an ICBC claim.

The following day I’m in physiotherapy and I tell this story to my physiotherapist and she is great, and books me an appointment to see someone in her office who has a specialty in treating concussions. I go for the consultation and it is exactly four weeks since my crash. I’m feeling good, head-wise, maybe even a bit cocky like I’m wasting their time. We run though the story and some questions and then she puts me through some eye tests and they’re fine but one gets me a bit scrambled but I don’t think much of it and we finish the tests and they’re talking and I can’t explain what happens but I just tell them to stop talking and I have a cold sweat and the worst nausea and I ask for a cup of water and say I’m not doing well. They bring me water and a pillow and turn out the light and I manage to pull it together a bit but I’m wrecked. They tell me it’s normal. They tell me that it’s going to be okay and they can fix it, that they can help me get better. I’m wrecked for the next 24 hours from trying to follow an X on a pencil with my eyes. And I’m mad. I’m mad that this fucking guy did this to me and I’m mad that I’m broken and I’ve been asking for help for a month and getting incompetence in return. I’m fucking mad. I’m confident that I’m going to get better and I’m happy that I’ve finally found help but I’m just mad that it happened and I’m mad that it was left up to me to figure out how to get the help I need. I’m going back tomorrow.

2020 week thirty four

Book / Stuff Read
26. How to Architect –Doug Patt
How the Pandemic Defeated America – Ed Yong (The Atlantic)
The Unravelling of America – Wade Davis (Rolling Stone)
The Unravelling of the Unravelling of America – Deanna Kreisel (Medium)

2020 Running to Date
1,905.5 KM

2020 Cycling to Date
1,805.6 KM

Days Without Strava Activity: 12

How to Architect is a cutesy introduction into the world of architecture presented as an A to Z guide, with short introductions into various architectural concepts such as J for Juncture and P for Proportion and culminating with Z for Zeal, the longest chapter of the book in which Patt waxes affection for Ayn Rand and The Fountainhead. The book is an easy read but nothing special, which makes me wish that A was for Ayn rather than Asymmetry so I wouldn’t have wasted my time. The Atlantic‘s long read summarizing the astonishing COVID-19 nightmare gripping the United States didn’t offer anything I hadn’t read elsewhere but it’s a very good collected how-did-we-get-here and worth the read. Wade Davis, an anthropologist at the University of British Columbia takes The Atlantic a step further lambasting America for Rolling Stone but doing so through a highly romanticized comparison to life in Vancouver. Not to have her country shaded, former UBC professor Deanna Kreisel, who recently returned her home to the United States writes a rebuttal that reads more like yet another Vancouver break up letter from yet another exiter. She’s right, of course, but the whole things comes across as a long whataboutism to Davis’ critique. That said I think they’re both worth reading, though. Follow the links above.

I normally follow my pithy reading review with a verbose look back at my week in running. I have not done any running. It has been 12 days since my bicycle crash, and I’ll be neither running nor cycling for the foreseeable future. Instead, I’m going to write about drugs. It’s not a happy story, but it has a satisfactory ending. I hope that my experience never happens to someone else, but I’m under no illusions that this story is going to inspire change. I’m sure it’s happened to a dozen other people since me. I have no way of knowing. On the afternoon of Wednesday, August 5, I was discharged from Lions Gate Hospital in North Vancouver with a single prescription for hydromorphone and instructed to continue following the pain management regiment that I’d received in the hospital. I was given some printed materials on how to put on and take off a shirt one handed and not much else. The trauma coordinator Darren Chan gave me his card with his cell phone and said to call if I needed anything. My care was being transferred to VGH Trauma Centre and I would hear from them. It was on Friday evening we did some math and realized my pain management would run out in 36 hours. I’d been provided with no mechanism to refill the prescription. First thing Saturday morning I phoned Darren and left a voicemail explaining my predicament. His voicemail message assured he would return my call. He didn’t. I didn’t wait. I call Lions Gate and ask to speak to trauma care, and explained the situation and asked for help. The person on the line said there was nothing she could do and that I should visit an Urgent Primary Care centre because no walk-in clinic would provide a prescription for hydromorphone. I asked where and she replied Esplanade and I asked if there was one closer to me in Vancouver. She made a show of being rather put out to have to Google the Hornby Street location for me. The centre opened at 8 a.m. so I gave them a call to see if a long wait could be avoided or, fingers crossed, taken care of over the phone. The automated message said they would neither provide medical advice nor wait times over the phone. At the same time Stephanie had been seeking advice and one suggestion was to call the pharmacy that had filled the prescription—sometimes they’re able to call the doctor for a refill. I was worth a try. Hydromorphone is a narcotic that requires a special prescription written in a special prescription book. The pharmacist was sympathetic, but there was nothing she could do. She suggested I speak with someone over the phone at Urgent Primary Care, so I called them again and held for reception. When I told her my situation she abruptly told me that they don’t dispense drugs and to go to a walk-in clinic. By now Stephanie has spoken with another friend who works in health care who said to just go the Urgent Care and that they tell everyone the no-narcotic message but if I could get in to speak to a doctor about my pain management they would be able to help. We didn’t have any other option. Stephanie drove me down and I took a number and waited my turn.

After a couple hours wait I got to see a doctor, who then proceeded to tell me that the pain management instructions I’d been following were “a lot” and anyway he didn’t have the required special prescription pad. I said that surely he could get one, or at least one page from one. I asked if there was a walk in clinic nearby that the doctor on duty might have one, and he replied that no walk in clinic would prescribe me hydromorphone. I replied that the Urgent Care receptionist told me to go to a walk in clinic, why would they tell me that? He had no answer, but suggested he could ask the other doctor on duty if they had the correct pad. After a few minutes he returned. There was no pad, but he could prescribe Tylenol 3. I replied that my injuries had happened just a few days ago and I really didn’t think it was wise to change up the pain management that I’d been instructed to follow. I asked if there was someone at St. Paul’s Hospital nearby that he could call. He was apprehensive, but finally acquiesced; he would make a phone call and see. He returned a few minutes later, asking, “Hey, are you that cyclist in the news?” He gave me a letter to give to the Emergency doctor on duty at St. Paul’s but made no promises they would be willing or able to help me either. We walked up to St. Paul’s and checked into Emergency. Stephanie couldn’t stay with me because of COVID-19 restrictions, but the intake staff at St. Paul’s were exceptionally helpful and kind. I was fast tracked through Emergency and met with the doctor, letter in hand. I could tell he too was hesitant to write a hydromorphone prescription, but ultimately did. I thanked him profusely and set off for the pharmacy. On a day I should have never left the sofa, I left the house in search of health care support at just after 8 a.m. and didn’t get home until nearly 5 p.m. Back in late July, before my life was changed by a negligent driver, Premier John Horgan suggested in a press conference that the opioid crisis starts with a choice. He’s since tried to walk that statement back, as have Minister of Health Adrian Dix and the province’s top doctor Bonnie Henry. I remember being so disappointed when I heard him say it. My experience navigating the health care for pain management certainly gives me another perspective. What if I hadn’t been able to convince the doctor at Urgent Care to phone St. Paul’s? I was out of options. I’m in terrible pain, and the pain management that I’m on only manages it. It is bearable, and I have a very high pain threshold. What would I have done if I wasn’t able to get a prescription? If this was my experience, what is the experience of others? I cannot be unique. On Monday, August 10, over 48 hours after I left a message with Trauma Coordinator Darren Chan, he returned my call. I was furious. “I don’t check my phone 24 hours a day,” he replied. I reminded him that he gave me his card and said to phone if I needed anything, that I was given no other contact person for assistance. “Why would discharge me from trauma care, and give me a number – the only number I was given – that isn’t even monitored?” He replied, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

I received excellent care throughout my stay at Lions Gate Hospital. The doctors and nurses were exceptional and professional. There is a huge problem with the way in which I was discharged. I am fortunate that I was able to solve the issues I faced, but I shouldn’t have had to, and no one else should have to either.

Notes:
– If you’re wondering what the heck is going on, I wrote about it all here: https://readrunwrite.com/2020-week-thirty-two/
– Thanks again for all the well wishes from everyone. I have a very long road ahead of me and your kind words of support really do help.
– My bike is home! It looks in okay shape but I won’t be riding anytime soon, and not before it gets a full safety check at the shop. I’m on the waitlist. Thanks for all the offers to help.
– Some of you have asked about a GoFundMe page; a friend has created one. It feels weird because I think there are much more worthy causes, but if you are so inclined: https://www.gofundme.com/f/todd-nickel-recovery-fund I am overwhelmed by the response so far. Thank you.