In January of 1990 I experienced a life-altering event.
I had a bad accident engaging in a seemingly fun winter sport -
Tobogganing.
There was no booze or drugs involved - just my girl friend, a bunch of friends and the kids having a blast on a sunny Sunday.
The crash left me with an unstable burst fracture of the twelfth thoracic vertebrae.
Things were not looking very good for Tom.
Quickly collecting opinions from various docs - one surgeon seemed to stand-out.
His claim was that he could get me on my feet in practically no time. Well - not exactly - reasonably soon.
He was one of Milwaukee's hottest surgeons. Bright, competent, confident.
He was at the top of his game.
I underwent a nine hour surgery to reduce the fracture and stabilize the spine.
Even with a Cell Saver I received an additional five units of whole blood.
My spine was held together with some fancy plates and lag bolts.
A week later a thoracic surgeon cracked my chest, and the first surgeon sawed-off a rib and used it to perform a posterior fusion of the spine.
After a month in the hospital I was sent home with a brace to wear.
I spent most of the following year working part time and getting better.
In the spring of 1991 the doctor removed the hardware.
I thanked the him for his skill, confidence and inspiration which sped my recovery.
I gave-up running and embraced riding my bicycle with renewed enthusiasm.
(I kept the hardware as a souvenir of my adventure and stopped setting-off airport metal detectors.)
This was the doc.
Photo/Kevin Hamack
You've probably read about this in the news.
I eventually married the girlfriend that was with me on that January day and we've been living happily ever-after.
Not so for Mark Benson.
Formerly MD.
Booze and drugs.
A slide into the abyss.
Finally a crash resulting in deaths.
I suspect his life isn't going to end so happily ever-after.
God help him.
Tom
