Bouncing back with full support

I blinked slowly, staring at the array of scribble-on Post-it^® notes on my desk, trying to remember to what these short notes and half sentences were referring. As I left work at the end of a normal workday two months ago, it never occurred to me that I might not be back for months. It’s the little stuff we take for granted, right?

So here’s what happened…

On a beautiful evening in late summer I mounted my motorcycle for the ride home from Park 48. I have a 25-mile commute and I ride rather than drive whenever possible. It saves on fuel, and riding is good for my mental and physical health (usually).

Unfortunately, things can go wrong really quickly at highway speeds. The traffic in front of me abruptly slowed for no obvious reason. I squeezed the brake hard and felt the forks compress, my weight and the motorcycle’s weight shifting forward, inertia and mass leveraged on the front wheel. That pivot point may have saved my life; because when the car behind me slammed into my rear wheel, instead of being crushed, I was launched from my seat as if from a catapult.

Suddenly I was flying, falling, rolling. The pain was immediate, but manageable. I realized I had landed in the right lane of the highway and if I didn’t move quickly, my current pain was likely minor compared to being run over. I stood, discovering that my left arm now had a new joint between the elbow and wrist. I cradled the dangling portion of my arm against my chest and headed toward the median. Each step was increasingly difficult, the pressure and heat emanating from my left foot indicated that something was seriously wrong. I stumbled into the grassy median and lay down.

My helmet had done its job admirably, so I was (regrettably) fully conscious as the adrenaline yielded to the invading pain. However, that also meant I could witness Hoosier hospitality in full bloom. So many people stopped to help that they couldn’t all get near me. They did all the right things. Someone removed my watch and wedding ring (the swelling that comes with adding a new joint is significant). No one tried to remove my helmet (instead, they correctly stabilized my head and neck until the ambulance arrived). One woman even retrieved my phone from my motorcycle and dialed so I could talk to my wife.

While the premise of this story is a motorcycle wreck, the point is not about the rider; it is about the supporting cast. The unknown people at the roadside, the hospital staff, the surgeons (Surdam, Mast, and Duvane), and most especially my colleagues at Cook, were all incredibly supportive.

I have previously worked for large, small, non-profit, for-profit, public, and Christian organizations; none of them would have been as supportive through this as Cook has been. From HR, to my regulatory colleagues, to acquaintances made at lunch, the concern and encouragement I have been shown is indicative of the quality of people who work at Cook. There is a culture of caring at Cook that is astounding.

The outpouring of well wishes left me literally speechless (temporarily of course, I still like to talk). I have never experienced such an overwhelming wave of generosity and concern. My manly pride kept me stoic through the surgeries (narcotics helped), but I am not too proud to admit that some of the cards and texts that I received left me teary eyed. I cannot adequately express my gratitude to those of you who reached out to me (or to my wife) after the accident.

Cook is truly a rare place, with wonderful, caring people, and I thank you all.