Quick update on my recovery. Nothing short of a miracle. The cover picture you’ve already seen is my head and arm today. It’s amazing. Read to the end to see the healing my head has gone through. Be warned, it is NOT pretty.
There has been real fear that I would have a permanent divot in my head. Like a mini crater. It was a likelihood that I would have a permanent bald spot. There were concerns about it healing and sealing up properly. There were many concerns.
I never concerned myself with much of this. It was something Beth and others would discuss. For one, I’m old, married, with a kid anyways. I always thought a bald spot would bother me. Once you get old, who really cares. Secondly, I didn’t concern myself with it because I knew it would work itself out.
Where I used to fear touching because there was a hole and I didn’t want to fully know what was going on back there, is now just a scab. Where we thought I might have a permanent crater and baldness, you can’t even tell there is an injury. My hair has grown long and now it blends in with the scab that has filled in my head.
There was some concern about how my arm might heal. I briefly had thoughts about whether the healing skin would tighten up and restrict movement. It’s my shooting shoulder! I set aside those concerns. It would heal or it wouldn’t. I wish I had the poetic ability to properly describe how it has transformed. From extremely painful, you’ve seen the pictures, to basically looking like a scratch. As of right now, it looks like I got a mild sunburn.
The third thing aside from my head and arm that was a concern was the helicopter bill. Our initial bill was for $46,198.50. You can imagine this would cause some amount of stress. I can say that Beth was pretty stressed about it. I say this with little pride, I like to think she was positively affected by my calm outlook. This is more due to our different demeanors than anything. It’s something I’ve written about before. Where Beth is pragmatic and planning, I like to think God will take care of it. See The Chance of Faith for more on that. God is likely more on Beth’s side. But I was not worried. We would have to pay it, or we wouldn’t. Either way, God was watching.
Despite my lack of worry and naïve, innocent belief that all would work out, I was still not looking forward to paying $46,000. For that reason, it was quite a relief when, after Beth’s work with forms and paperwork, our bill was dramatically decreased. I won’t give the exact amount, leave some intrigue, but I will say the decrease was ridiculous.
What’s the moral of the story?
I’m lucky?
Yes, I am.
I mentioned when I was on the ATV my brother gave me a priesthood blessing. I asked him 3 days after the accident what he said in the blessing. He replied that I was blessed that I would heal, and Beth wouldn’t lose me anytime soon. Again, my healing has been nothing short of miraculous. Anyone who has seen my head progress over the past 6 weeks is blown away. It’s unbelievable.
Am I lucky?
Yes, I am.
When I was 25 years old, I was ordained an Elder and given the Melchizedek Priesthood. I was so excited I invited every person I knew to be there. I was receiving the power and authority of God, to act in the name of Jesus Christ. I could heal, bless, baptize, and give the gift of the holy ghost. It was the most important moment in my life at that point.
Here is my testimony. The priesthood is the power and authority of God gifted to His children here on earth. When my brother laid his hands on my head and blessed me with health, it wasn’t the average prayer. The power that coursed from his hands to my bleeding head, the authority I myself had given him just months prior, that power literally healed me. That blessing was in affect and ordained by God. My brother worked hard to be worthy to bless me in that moment. That blessing came from heaven.
The priesthood authority is not mythical. It is not imaginary. It is a real power to act in God’s name. When I was blessed on that ATV, I was healed. I know it as sure as I am still breathing and typing this.
It’s a miracle how I’ve healed. I couldn’t heal like this without divine authority. I couldn’t heal like this unless God intended it to be. I was blessed by his power and authority. Why was I at peace throughout this process? Because 3 days in I asked my brother what he blessed me with that day. When he said, “you’ll heal,” I knew it would be. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind.
I can’t thank my Heavenly Father enough for what he has blessed me with. Last week I was able to bless my daughter with the same priesthood authority. I know the blessing I gave my daughter was ordained by God and will also be in full affect. I can’t thank God enough for the priesthood He has blessed me with. How it blesses my life and my family’s life every day.
I know that the authority to act in God’s name must come by the proper channels. I know that Joseph Smith was visited by Peter, James, and John and given the keys to this priesthood power. I know the Church of Jesus Christ was restored and we are blessed by His delegating those keys to us, to simple, flawed man. He has trusted us with power. I am grateful to Joseph Smith for restoring the priesthood power and authority. I’m grateful for every blessing I’ve received and given in my life.
I know that God has authorized this. I look forward to the day when I can kneel before him in humble amazement and ask how He could love us so much, that He would give us all He has.
This my testimony in the sacred name of Jesus Christ.
________________________________________
I will provide some picture evidence of the miraculous nature of my recover.
*****WARNING*****
Please don’t keep scrolling if you get queasy easily. These are pictures I refused to look at until today. You can call me a wimp, but I had to step outside for some fresh air after seeing them. You’ve been warned.
I currently have an open wound on the back of my head from the accident. I haven’t seen it. I could look at pictures. I don’t want to.
After I had the staples removed, which wasn’t close to as painful as my imagination anticipated, I had to start a daily routine of tending to the wound 3 times a day.
Here is the routine:
My wonderful wife (3 times a day!) cleans my wound with a Q-tip.
She then applies acetic acid to a little pad and “packs” (I hate that word as much as you) it into the open hole in my head. A little additional information you didn’t need, you can see a litttttle bit of my skull.
She then applies a gauze pad.
She then wraps it with a bandage.
When it’s time, I unwrap the bandage from around my head and remove the gauze pad which always has some amount of puss and blood on it.
I put my head under water and soak the packed pad which makes it much easier to pull from my head.
Once removed (always thoroughly soaked in puss and blood) I soak my open scalp under water. Sometimes I’ll use baby shampoo to clean it by patting with my palms.
I dry my hair and let the wound air dry.
Then Beth starts over at step one. Rinse and repeat.
Here’s where the metaphor for life comes in.
At the beginning of this, almost every step made me cringe. I’ll tell you, appreciate the flesh on your head a little more today. Because a Q-tip touching what was never meant to be touched, is unsettling. Having something packed into your head, uncomfortable. Putting your exposed skull (albeit a tiny portion) under water to be pelted by drops, weird.
The first couple days of this were not fun. It wasn’t that it was super painful, it wasn’t. It wasn’t that it was even that bad. It was just…unsettling, uncomfortable, weird…
By the second week it wasn’t that bad at all.
By the third week I was throwing that head under water and Beth was poking me with Q-tips while I continued to work at my desk.
Things can be really uncomfortable, scary, and hard at first, but the more you do them, the less uncomfortable they become. This metaphor applies to everything. A major one I can think of is public speaking. Public speaking is unsettling, uncomfortable, downright terrifying (for most. Don’t want to hear from you if you enjoy public speaking). But my experience with public speaking is: the more you do it, the easier it becomes.
This goes for everything. With time, hard things become easier.
Even having your skull prodded by a Q-tip, acetic acid, and shower water.
These things are all amazing. These are all fruits of the gospel.
But.
Why are they amazing?
After seeing a great vision of eternity, of all the heavens, of the glory, love, and light we will all receive in the next life, after this vision, Joseph Smith and Sydney Rigdon wrote this:
“And now, after the many testimonies which have been given of him, this is the testimony, last of all, which we give of him: That he lives!
For we saw him, even on the right hand of God; and we heard the voice bearing record that he is the Only Begotten of the Father.” (Doctrine and Covenants 76:22)
How I wish I could scream this to the world. Jesus Christ lives! He died for you, for each of us. He died so you need not fear death, trials, or tribulations. You needn’t fear anything. He died for your reassurance. He died for your comfort. He died for your sins. He died for you.
All those things mentioned at the start are amazing, glorious, and wonderful because they point to one thing: Him. Jesus Christ. The Savior of the world. Without Him all of it would be for nothing. Temples, prophets, scripture, what good are they? They are only good for what they point us to. The light and love of this world. Jesus Christ.
I wish the world could see this. I wish the world could see that all these things are just tools pointing to someone far greater.
Ultimately the gospel of Jesus Christ brings comfort. The Plan of Salvation brings peace. The Plan of Happiness makes this life a joy. How could this life be anything less when you know the bigger picture?
I don’t fear trials because I know they help me grow.
I don’t fear tribulations because I know they benefit me for eternity.
I don’t fear death because I know where I’m going if I continue to look to Christ.
I wrote this months ago. Now I’m coming off a situation that has been a trial and tribulation. I believe I can say with a little more confidence today that I don’t fear death.
It can be naïve to say I welcome trials and tribulations when life is wonderful and peaceful. I appreciate that my life is wonderful and peaceful because of the Gospel and the peace it preemptively brings me before trials. It’s easy to say these things when everything is going well. I’m glad I can say them when things are hard as well.
Despite current challenges, I feel so blessed.
Of course, I don’t want tests and trials, but I know when they come, they are for a great purpose. I hope when opportunities come for my faith to be tested it can feel like an open book test. I hope I can face trials in life as if I have the answers, which I believe I do. It’s easy to say until a true tragedy hits my life. I don’t hope for a true tragedy, but I hope for the strength and faith to endure tragedy if it comes.
Coming off the accident I had, I still don’t feel like I’ve gone through a tremendous trial. It has been challenging, but not overly. I don’t feel like it has been that difficult at all. I don’t know how much of that is the fact that the challenge wasn’t actually difficult or due to all the support I have around me, especially the support of God.
These are all the benefits of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I wish the world had this same peace I have been profoundly blessed to be given.
Since I wrote that dramatic post about my near death it’s probably good etiquette to write a follow up about how I’m recovering.
The human body is a truly extraordinary thing. Blows my mind that some people think this thing that has a trillion parts working perfectly together can have fallen together like a puzzle from the sky. My healing has gone extremely well. It’s gone so well that Beth has had to remind me on multiple occasions about the seriousness of my accident.
Seriously. I think about what happened, and it doesn’t coincide with how smoothly my recovery has been. That’s not to say it’s been a complete walk in the park. There is a fair amount of pain, my head is constantly leaking, my arm hurts. All in all, it’s not that bad.
The truth is, my comfortable recovery may be due in large part to my on-staff nurse (I love you!). Beth has been the most attentive, caring, helpful person ever. Sometimes I wonder how she’s caring for me and a newborn all at the same time. Beth has daily and sometimes multiple times a day re-dressed my wounds. She’s taken off the bandages, helped clean, re-anoint, re-bandage my head and shoulder at least once a day since I was hurt. No wonder I’m healing well.
There was one night that was extraordinarily painful. The fifth night I think it was. We had wrapped my arm and shoulder like normal. Over the course of the night it itched and stung and hurt. Around 11pm I unwrapped the wound. I applied more ointment which didn’t help. Then I made a potentially grave mistake. We have some antiseptic numbing spray that in bold red letters on the bottle says “NO STING.” The greatest act of false advertising in the history of false advertising. The only defense I can think of is maybe they claim it’s no sting, instead it BURNS. It hurt so bad.
I spent four hours basically pacing around in pain. It’s crazy, a gaping head wound and it’s the road rash that is hurting, by far, the most.
Again, I feel extraordinarily blessed with how I’ve improved. I even worked a half day the first week. I would have worked another half day if not for the great night of burning arm. I attribute my recovery, apart from my visible angel here with me (Beth), to the same thing I attribute my life. I believe God and angels I can’t see are attending to me daily.
I want to thank everyone for their support while I’ve been hurt. It’s heart-warming to get messages of love and care from so many people.
In my last post I talked about the two things my mind rested on. God and family. There’s something that wasn’t said that I want to make sure is extremely clear. Family doesn’t only mean blood family. We’re all family here and while I’ve been blessed with the most amazing blood family, in-laws, wife, and daughter, it’s my extended, non-blood family that feels over the top.
As I’ve been hurt I’ve thought about all the people in my life that I can rely on. When I came to Arizona I moved away from all family. I didn’t know that I’d end up having so many people basically adopt me into their care. Friends that will drop anything to help me, offers for me to come over for holidays, help moving, help with my car. I was blessed with a roommate who’s family became my family away from home.
There are so many people I owe so much to.
This is personal, something I’ve never told anyone. In my prayers I often ask God what I did to deserve so much love? A loving family, loving friends. So many people that care for and watch out for me. It’s something I’ve asked often. I don’t know what I did to deserve so many amazing people in my life. All I know is I’m grateful for them.
So, thank you everyone for continuing to help us and watch over us. Thank you for the love. It means so much.
God and family.
____________________________________
Here is the progression of my arm healing (If you’re looking for day by day healing updates on my head, gross, go watch pimple popper videos). By the way, I’m not flexing in all those pictures, I still can’t fully extend my right arm:
Day 1
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 3
Day 3
Day 3
Day 4
Day 4
Day 5
Day 11
Day 11
Can’t end with mutilated arm pictures, to lighten things up:
“We need to wait for a helicopter. It’s 2 hours by road to the nearest hospital. You might have internal bleeding in your brain. You might die before we could get you there.”
I was in the back of an ambulance for the first time. It’s an interesting thing to wonder if you’re being melodramatic about dying and then being told by an EMT that you might die. It becomes a real possibility, if it wasn’t already.
My family rented ATVs over the weekend. We rented a cabin and stayed in Duck Creek, near Cedar City, Utah. We had the ATVs for four hours. My family went out first while Beth and I stayed at the cabin with Ivy. Then Beth and I swapped in for my mom and sister.
There were nine of us total and three ATVs. Two of the ATVs held four people and one of them held two. When Beth and I swapped in I drove with Beth in the front seat, my dad and brother in the back seat. We drove to Mammoth caves and explored. After 30 or so minutes looking at the caves, we went back to the ATVs to off road for our last 90 minutes before the ATVs had to be returned.
Moments before the accident
Beth hadn’t driven so we made her drive. My brother Garrick and his girlfriend Arielle rode in the back. We reminded Beth that if you’re not flipping the ATV you’re not trying. My uncle Jon led in the two-seater and my brother Dresdan drove the other four-seater behind them. We took up the rear so Beth could go at her own pace and not feel the pressure of Dresdan bearing down on her.
I had one glove off because I was eating airheads from my pocket. Beth was driving as cautiously as expected and the other two vehicles got ahead of us. I had a thought cross my mind: ‘I bet it would be safer to have no seatbelt on. It would probably be safer to be thrown out of this thing than stuck and crushed inside of it.’ I did have my seatbelt on. That thought I had was undoubtedly wrong.
I’ll describe what I remember next. Then I’ll tell the whole story from the perspective of those who stayed conscious throughout.
We were coming up on a turn. We were not going that fast. I had driven with much more reckless abandon when I was behind the wheel. We came up on this turn and Beth began to break and then we started to tip.
The next thing I remember was feeling pinned down and stuck. I couldn’t see anything. But I was stuck. My arm couldn’t move. I believe I started yelling.
The next thing I remember was the feeling of flipping over.
I still couldn’t see anything.
The next thing I remember was hearing crying and screaming from Beth. I told her I was going to be ok. It was going to be ok. I still couldn’t see anything.
The next thing I remember was moving. Jon was in the driver’s seat next to me. Someone was behind me holding something down firmly on my head.
It is fascinating how the brain works in moments of trauma. How was I thinking so clearly?
I asked if an ambulance was called and was told yes. It occurred to me, we drove way out into these trails. We were at least 30 minutes from anything. I asked who was behind me. Dresdan. It crossed my mind: the firmer whatever is on my head is being pressed down, the more likely I am to survive. I asked Dresdan to push down harder. He did, and it hurt. I asked him to push down less hard. I put my hand up and held it myself and asked Dresdan to support on top of my hand. I felt him start checking my neck and spine with his other hand. I put my right, gloved hand out the window and started flexing my fingers. I was tapping my legs repeatedly. I was acutely aware of the importance of staying awake.
I was staring through the windshield and thought I saw a crack. I stared harder and realized there was no crack, my vision was getting blurry. I was so tired. I told Jon and Dresdan that my vision was getting blurry and I was very tired. I told Dresdan to talk to me. He said something to me, and I can’t remember what it was. It wasn’t a conversation starter. I put my hand on Jon’s leg and squeezed. He put his hand on mine and held it. I asked Dresdan about the book I’d given him to read. He told me it was good and that I’d really like the one he gave me for Christmas. I talked about the book he had just read briefly, then got quiet. I was awake enough.
I asked Dresdan to give me a blessing. It was too loud. He would have to yell it. The talking I’d already done had made my head throb. I asked him to quietly give me a priesthood blessing.
I’ve always wondered how I would react at the prospect of death. It’s easy to say you don’t fear dying but what about when you actually might die?
I’ve always hoped there would be no fear, just faith.
On a destroyed ATV, soaked in my own blood, I learned the answer. I wasn’t afraid to die. While I wasn’t afraid to die something kept coming to my mind on repeat. My daughter is 6 weeks old. I want to see her again. Beth was driving, she can’t live with this guilt. I love my daughter more than anything in the world, I need to see her again. I love Beth so much and can’t have her live with this pain. I want to see my daughter again. I love my wife.
Beth’s cries in that moment of blackness were in my mind. I could hear her grief. Could she live with this? I might die. Probably not. I was conscious. I was awake. Dresdan was keeping pressure on the wound. I would be fine.
But what if I wasn’t?
In that moment I confirmed what I’d always known. The two most important things in this world are God and family. In that moment I prayed relentlessly. I believe the blessing and my prayers kept me awake. What else mattered in that moment but God and my family?
Nothing.
I wanted to see my mom again, I wanted to see my dad again, I wanted to see my brothers and sisters. More than anything I wanted to see Ivy again. It hit me, maybe I wouldn’t. I realized, just in case, I should say something that needed to be said. I told Jon he had to tell Beth that I was ok, and it wasn’t her fault. It was an accident.
We came to a crossroads in the trail. I remembered where we had come from and told Jon. Adie and Jared drove up in the two-seater and told Jon to follow them to the main road.
We got out to a main street and started driving. We came to an intersection and there was the ambulance. We pulled into a dirt lot. I was surrounded by people I didn’t know. I was asked a lot of questions. They cut my clothes off of me and told me not to move my neck if I could help it. I was able to get my seatbelt off. They asked if I could get to the stretcher. I said I could with some help. I took the couple steps to the stretcher and they buckled me in. As I was taken to the ambulance, I saw Beth. Her eye was extremely swollen. She said she was ok. I was put into the ambulance.
This is where our story started. The EMT told me I might die.
Oh.
Ok.
It was real then.
Still no fear. Maybe that’s natural. Maybe the panic and shock takes precedence. I don’t know, I’ve only almost died this one time. The main EMT was a young blond guy. I asked him, “Are you a member of the church, you know, we’re in Utah right?”
He told me he wasn’t, he was raised in the church but had distanced himself from it. We had a conversation about the comfort I felt having that hope. He told me that hope was a powerful thing. He told me that hope told me that even if I died today, I would see my daughter again. He told me the other EMT in the ambulance was a member of the church.
I was told we had to wait for a helicopter. The drive was too long. I might die on the way. We had to wait. I was tapping my toes repeatedly. I was doing it to stay awake. I asked the EMT, Aidan, if it was ok. He said it was a panic response, my anxiety was high. He said it was natural, but if I could take some deep breaths and calm my body, that would help.
I haven’t been meditating all this time for nothing.
I took a few deep breaths and felt my body relax. He said my vitals (I don’t know, blood pressure?) improved and I was looking good.
They asked if I wanted my clothes that they’d cut off thrown out. I told them my garment top was there and it needed to be disposed of properly. Every person I saw from then on got the message that my garment top was present, and it was important it went with me.
The helicopter arrived and I was airlifted to the hospital. I asked the man sitting with me in the helicopter if he was a member of the church. He said he was just Christian. I told him we were part of the same family. He said he loves to discuss the differences. Oh, if I could have gotten his phone number.
In the ambulance they gave me pain medicine. What a difference that made. I was also told it was ok to sleep. I don’t know if I slept, I’m sure I at least dozed off.
At one point the man nudged me and told me we were going over Zion. I turned my head best I could and looked out. My first helicopter ride could have been better. Wasn’t the worst, though.
I arrived at the hospital and was wheeled in.
I can’t emphasize enough how kind every person was to me.
From Aidan, the first person I saw at the ambulance, to the helicopter, to the hospital. Every person treated me with love.
The next bit is a blur, so much happened.
I was given more pain medicine, my skull was numbed, they tried as best they could to clean out the wound in my head and arm, I did x-rays and a CT scan.
At one point a nurse told me something I did not want to hear. She tried to see if I wanted to hear it and I misunderstood and got much more information than I wanted. She could see my skull. Cool.
Eventually they determined I didn’t need surgery. Everything was good. They could staple me up.
The doctor counted 51 staples in my head, I counted 52. He said it wasn’t often they had to use a whole stapler. I was released the same day.
Sounds like it wasn’t that bad, right? You should see me now. My head has been leaking for three straight days and my shoulder is pretty morbid. I’ll put some pictures at the bottom for the sickos in the audience.
It all ended up being fine. I lived. I’m fine.
I should have died. If a couple things didn’t happen I wouldn’t have survived.
The parts that you (and I) missed. Apparently when the ATV flipped, my brother who was sitting back and to the left of me saw my body. He thought I was literally drowning in a pool of my blood.
The other two ATVs had stopped. They said something about knowing that was a slippery turn and wanting to wait. If the other two ATVs had gone on, I’m almost sure I would have died. Them stopping was the difference between me bleeding out in a tipped over ATV and living.
I firmly believe that I am protected by angels. Not just that day, but every day. I tell Beth often that God won’t take me a minute sooner than is my time. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that angels resided with me that day. I know the others were prompted by the spirit to stay. They were feet away when we flipped.
It is difficult to get a group of 8 people to do anything in a quick and organized fashion. Set aside the panic and fear that might have set in. I’ve never been more proud of my family than when I heard the steps they took to save my life.
My brother-in-law Jared heard me yelling and thought I was crushed. Every male in the group, my dad, Jon, Garrick, Dresdan, Jared and Easton immediately grabbed the ATV and flipped it over. Jon got in to drive. Dresdan got in behind me to keep pressure on my head. I learned later that Easton was in my ATV also.
Adie and Jared jumped in the two person ATV and drove off to get cell reception to call an ambulance.
The others got in the other ATV. Initially they were going to drive ahead also. Someone realized, since the other ATV had flipped, it might have an issue driving. They drove behind us the whole way in case the ATV I was still seat-belted into broke down.
Can you believe that? In minutes, every person in my family did exactly what was necessary. Without a moment’s hesitation they saved me.
The doctors at the hospital told me they couldn’t believe I still had my right arm. They told me they’d seen a ton of these accidents and almost every time the person’s arm is destroyed or gone. They said if I’d reached out my arm would be gone. I think the airhead I was eating might have played a part in saving my arm.
God and family.
It’s weird to look back on nearly dying.
I’m amazed at the peace I could feel in what should have been a terrifying moment. I knew if I was meant to die, I would. The only thing that mattered to me was that my wife knew I loved her and it absolutely, positively, was not her fault.
Leaving Ivy would have hurt. It would have hurt. It would have hurt. It would have hurt. But I know that she would have been so loved.
I know what’s important in this life. I’m grateful for trials and scary moments to reaffirm what I know.
God and family.
To all those that have prayed for me, thank you.
To the Hollerbach’s, thank you for sending us food the night we drove back from Utah.
Beth has been off the charts amazing since the accident. She is currently caring for a newborn and someone with a traumatic head injury. She drove us back from Utah, 7 hours, the very next day. I just wanted to get home.
Ivy slept the entire way. We had to wake her for the two stops to feed her. She would get back in her car seat and zonk out. God has blessed me with so much.
I feel it necessary, because Ivy will read this one day, to say something to her.
To my sweet girl when you were born my world stopped revolving around the sun. When I thought I might die, you were my first thought. I hope you never doubt how much I love you. You and your mom are the most important things in the world to me. Never doubt it. Because I did come close the other day. I know what’s important. I love you, Ivy. I love my family and I can’t say enough how grateful I am for them.
God and family.
The pictures below are kind of gross. View them at your own risk. I’ll keep the pictures I wish I never saw private.
No Coincidences 