A January 2023 trip to Fairbanks finished in July 2023

Off to Alaska in the middle of January? What am I thinking? A quick get-away from work mid-week when the weather is unpredictable and precarious?

I have been to Alaska on three other occasions. Two were trips at the end of summer, one to Barrow (Utqiagvik) and Fairbanks and Anchorage, a second to Nome and Seward, and a third a January trip to Juneau. Today I am taking advantage of a cheapish fare from Oakland to Fairbanks and back in the hopes of seeing the Northern Lights and making sure I get use out of my winter clothes, lol. I figure January can be a time for mileage runs before the fares get too expensive and I always try to maintain my Alaska MVP Gold status, so in 2023 I am starting early. This trip it is coach, window exit row seats.

During the Trip to Utqiagvik I flew from Utqiagvik to Fairbanks and spent two nights at a nice all-Suite Hotel near the Fairbanks airport, with 24-hour shuttle service. On that trip I asked the driver how people living there negotiated getting to and from work in the winter. “We all take the bus” was his reply. “The bus runs reliably, and it is the best way to get around.” On a later trip to Juneau, I took the Bus from my hotel to downtown and back, and also to the Mendenhall Glacier visitor’s center (including a mile and a half walk.) It took a while, but it was a great experience. If you want to get a taste of the community of people you are visiting, the bus does not disappoint. Thinking back to when I became a flight attendant in 1985 in Chicago with United Airlines, they told us Californians who had just learned they would be based in the Midwest to find a place to live near a stop served by the Continental Bus Airport bus service. I did that and it got me to and from O’Hare many times successfully, often passing cars stranded in the snow. So on this short trip my plan is to get up to Fairbanks and back, stay at the same hotel with its shuttle service, walk around as much as I can handle in the January temperatures, take the bus downtown to the only Michelin “Bib Gourmand” restaurant (according to TripAdvisor a few years back) in the city, and visit other places, and hope to see the Northern Lights. The hotel offers Northern Lights “wake-up service.” The weather in Seattle looks OK for the connection and while there might be an inch of snow falling in Fairbanks I don’t see a storm alert for Fairbanks, just Igloos when I look at my “WeatherBug” app. The Aurora forecast, if there are periods of clear sky, looks somewhat promising.

I have checked the bus schedules and feel pretty confident about getting around that way. I print out three schedules and put them in my bag. I buy two green USB powered arm bands for walking in the early morning and late afternoon. I pack hats and scarfs and my one pair of gloves. A Day Pass for the bus costs $3.00. 72 hours before my first flight from Oakland to Seattle I get upgraded to first class. 24 hours prior I check in and 24 hours prior to the Seattle-Fairbanks flight I check the waitlist and I am number 9 on the upgrade list, with 5 seats available, so it looks like that will not be happening. An hour later I am number 4 with the inventory zeroed out on ExpertFlyer. We will see how this pans out. With over a 3-hour layover in Seattle, I check the Alaska Lounge page and see that they do not offer Day Passes for sale in SEA. I have Priority Pass through an American Express Card and ponder if I will take the train over to the A concourse to use The Club SEA between flights.

Tuesday morning arrives and at 3:30am I am up and getting ready. The drive to Oakland is easy and I find a great parking space at an off-site company I use now and then. Soon I am at the airport and my bag is checked.

ALASKA 1151F (U) 24JAN OAKSEA 3A DEP 600AM (602AM) ARR 810AM (747AM) 737-900 N474AS

I boarded and quickly settle in. The crew is relaxed and friendly and soon we are up on the way and the single-choice granola with milk and dried fruit plate is served. It's healthy enough and I am not complaining. I realize how my expectations change when upgraded due to my MVPG status versus paying for a first class ticket. Two weeks prior to started my early mileage runs with a trip from San Jose to Austin and back, and the only “glassware: in F was paper cups. Today there is glassware. I have taken to not buying WiFi because we all need a break from the Internet and downloading Netflix shows on my phone and laptop. Taking the laptop out in coach is a stretch with cramped quarters so I download shows on both devices. Turning on my mobile phone I noticed that as a T-Mobile customer I get free mobile-only WiFi. So I activate this and watch the sun come up while figuring out where I am on flightradar24. It is still too dark to take a photo of Crater Lake as we fly over it, and the sun's light behind the clouds welcome a gray day in the Pacific Northwest. I check my flight to Fairbanks. The Equipment is on the taxiway waiting to take off for Seattle from Phoenix as we land in Seattle, on time so my three hour layover hopefully won't be any longer than that.

Searching around on the Internet I see a “POKE TO DA MAX” restaurant in the D concourse. This is a Sam Choy restaurant. I lived in Hawaii for 9 years when working as a flight attendant with United Airlines from 1989 to 1998. For a time Sam Choy's recipes were on the Hawaii mainland flights, back when food was free in coach and people smoked on airplanes, and United had first class service in first class. Mr. Choy had a restaurant on Kapahulu Avenue in Honolulu where a reservation seemed like a suggestion you might actually dine there. I invited a friend from the east coach once to dinner there who had just arrived from Washington DC. With a 6:00pm reservation we waited for an hour before being told we could be seated around 8:30-9:00pm so we left. Never went back but certainly tried the food on the plane when there were leftovers. One day I got invited to meet Sam Choy when he visited the Honolulu in-flight office. At the time he was a big guy, recent photos show otherwise, but then he was big in size and bigger in personality. He was proud man, and so successful, and told us of his humble roots growing up in the North Shore of Oahu. I think all the flight attendants there wanted to say: “Can you change your recipes to cut half of the sugar you add please?” but we didn't. He had this infectious personality that made you happy. Customers onboard liked the change at the time but everyone complained about the sweetness level. Today if I buy food for the Fairbanks flight, I will give this place a try. After walking for about 15 minutes I reach the Club SEA on the A concourse. I am admitted with my Priority Pass membership. It is a smallish lounge but luckily not too crowded, with pre-made omelets and oatmeal on offer along with packaged stuff. What is really lacking are power outlets. I just don't see any.I decide that I will be in coach and order a fish sandwich from POKE TO DA MAX (Poke To The Max – Mainland pronunciation and spelling,) online and by the time I walk or train over there it might be ready. I hope it is in a bag and portable enough to eat in coach without smelling up the cabin.

The morning flight from Fairbanks to Seattle has taken off early and the precipitation for FAI looks minimal for the remainder of the day. Igloos persist on my weather app. With a 3:00pm arrival the forecast is sunny and -4 F. What am I doing? Instead of taking the train I walk over to the D concourse and the sandwich is in a bag and ready. No waiting – this is the way to go. I then walk to C20 and the Phoenix passengers are just finishing disembarking (deplane is not a work in the English language.) I politely ask the agent If first class has checked in full and she gives me a big nod. About 10 minutes late, boarding begins and I am soon on the plane.

AS 106Y 24JAN SEA FAI 17F DEP 1155AM (1154AM) ARR 250PM (253PM) 737-900 N423AS

This past Christmas I bought myself some TILE trackers to attach to luggage, my keys or wallet. If you press the button on one of them your phone starts to ring. I used this just the day before when I put my phone down but something fell on top of it. I wasted no time in being reunited with my phone. The agent scanned by phone getting on the plane but at my seat I cannot find my phone. The gentlemen in 17D arrives, his wife across the aisle. I want to see if the middle seat is still open so I grab for my phone in my pocket but it is not there. I don't panic but start frantically looking for it. I don't think I dropped it in the aisle, but I press the button on my keys and after about 10 seconds I start hearing the music coming from my phone. It is near, but I can't see it. It takes me 5 minutes or more to see that it has fallen not into my backpack but under my seat cushion. Three people are helping me look for it. It's that Alaska spirit of helpfulness. When in Juneau taking the bus to the Mendenhall Glacier visitors center many Januarys prior I walked 1-1/2 miles in the cold, from the closest bus stop to the visitor's center. My pants were so wet upon arrival and as the only visitor there that day the ladies working the desk had me take off my pants and hung them near the heater while I watched the promotional movie in the heated auditorium twice in my boxer shorts; they played the movie twice. I guess that's a strange analogy but this is a different crowd of people, laid back, friendly, and low attitude.

It takes us a while to get airborne. There is a long line of planes in front of us. Finally we are in the air, and 17E is vacant. The gentleman and I both breathe a sigh of relief. There are probably 15 open seats in coach. I bring out my laptop to watch downloaded movies as there is space to do so in this coach seat, with a vacant seat next door. There are two drink services right off the bat and the gentleman in the aisle and I are both addressed by first name, thanked for being gold members and I don't pay for wine. I finally pull out this fish sandwich, and I must admit it was not that bad, there was just the right amount of sriracha aioli and ogo (seaweed used for poke,) that it differentiates itself from something made at a Pacific Northwest based eatery.

We fly not over Canada but the inland passage, but the clouds below obscure a view. Soon I see snowy mountains in the distance, and the sun at 2:30pm is beginning to flirt with the horizon. It is still bright outside as we start to descend into Fairbanks. As we near the runway, customers in the window seats start saying out loud “Streets are clear, streets are clear..” The community of Alaska is present. I make it off of the plane and into the small airport and call the hotel while in baggage claim.

“Oh are you at the airport? The van is out right now, but we will be there soon.” I walk to the designated pick up area and watch my fellow passengers get rides and vans to their destinations. I call the hotel again.

“Hello, my name is….”

“Oh we know who you are, the van is just taking longer because the driver got stuck on this errand. We’re coming though.”

Am I the only guest checking in that day?


SOPHIE STATION SUITES

The van driver is apologetic and goes into detail about this tardiness, and soon we are at the hotel. It is about zero degrees Fahrenheit outside and while I walked in and out of the airport testing this it really sinks in how cold it is when I alight the van.

Check-in is easy and I have a room with a kitchenette. I figure I would go to the nearby Safeway and get stuff for dinner to try to save a little money. The hotel seems smaller than I remember, but perhaps they’ve closed off a wing. I wonder how many guests are there. Not many.

At 4:00pm it is pretty dark outside. I watch a little news in the room, hearing a mostly clear forecast projected for the next two days, and then go to the fitness room and do about 30 minutes of cardio.

I decided to get suited up to go outside and to the Safeway store. It is a 3/10 of a mile walk.

Exiting the building my legs immediately feel brittle in the outside air. I don’t think I have felt this before. Should I have done some stretching exercises? Should I go back inside? I am wearing hiking shoes with good traction and slowly start walking towards University Ave, seeing a “Yellow Line” Fairbanks North Star Borough Bus pass by, with its old-school orange patrol light flashing on the roof. That will be me tomorrow, I think.

Exiting the hotel parking lot, I walk towards University Avenue and in a second, I am flat on the snow, arms out, and I try to get up. I have slipped on ice below the snow I was walking on. I have not hit my head but the wind is knocked out of me. I cannot get up, my right leg is not working below the knee. I for some reason, quickly in the bargaining phase of realization of injury, hoped that something will correct itself and my leg will start working, but it does not.

The first of two “Twilight Zone” moments of the week occur now. A Jeep pulls up besides me, as I am floundering on the ground, and the passenger window opens, An Alaska Native woman riding shotgun, mid-fifties with a blank expression, says: “You need to go to the hospital. Your knee is prone. I know, I am a medic.” The window closes and the Jeep drives off. Dread and uncertainty fill my mind, and somehow, on the fourth try, holding on to a signpost, I manage to stand up, but my right leg is responding to my brain, I cannot lift it and something is not right.

Then a small car approaches, and the African American driver yells: “Do you need help?” I respond affirmatively and he gets out of the car, walks to me and guides me to his passenger seat. He tells me the hospital is close and we start driving. Wally is recently finished with his military service in the Air Force and is staying in Fairbanks looking for work.

“What have you seen of Fairbanks before this?” he asks. I tell him I have just arrived. I ask him about employment in Alaska and he seemed hopeful. I figure he doesn’t do drugs and certainly has a good spirit and he will be working soon. I don’t know why I thought about that but anything to take my mind off what is happening.

FAIRBANKS MEMORIAL HOSPITAL – Tuesday Evening January 24th, 2023

In my teenage years I volunteered at two hospitals and remember going to the Emergency Room a few times doing some errand. It was not a place I wanted to stay. Managed chaos seemed about as good as it got in such a place. I later drove a friend to the Emergency room of a public hospital in Oakland, CA and waited for an eternity for him to be seen and hoped that would be my sum-total of visiting such places, but you never know what tomorrow will bring.

Arriving at the Emergency room entrance, Wally told me to sit tight, exited the car, got a wheelchair, and got me into it, and wheeled me in. He asked for my phone number and told me he would call later to make sure I was alright, but he never did. Still this saint got me to the hospital in record time.

I wanted to say to the hospital staff. “My knee is prone, I have been “seen” by a medic.” I could barely speak. I somehow filled out a form, gave the receptionist my insurance card and waited. Less than 10 minutes pass and I am taken to a make-shift exam room. The place seems eerily quiet. A male nurse in his late fifties, who looks like someone from the vintage TV series “Northern Exposure” comes in and says we are going to the x-ray. They x-ray my leg, and maybe ten minutes after I am back in the room and a thirtyish female physician’s assistant enters the room and introduces herself and says:

“There is nothing broken, but you have ruptured your right quadricep tendon. This tendon connects your knee to your quadricep muscle. This can happen when you slip on the ice. I just called our Orthopedic Surgeon in town, (is there only one?) and he will see you tomorrow but if I were you I don’t’ think I’d do that. You should get back home, find an orthopedic surgeon there and have surgery within two weeks. You need to wait for the swelling to go down anyway until they can operate.” She expeditiously said at the same time that I didn’t need to stay there.

Wow.

“We will get you fitted with a knee immobilizer and crutches.” She concludes the conversation. I ask what is so puffy near my knee camp and she casually says: “That’s blood from the rupture, it will be there until you have the surgery.”

My knee looks like it should be drained or something.

Immediately the nurse returns with stuff I really didn’t want. The immobilizer does support my right foot and allows me to walk OK but he warned me when he gave me the crutches.

“These take a while to get used to,” he says depressingly. They suggested I try walking in the empty emergency room. Things are unwieldy at best, but I wanted to get out of there.

I return to the waiting room and call UBER on my phone. A driver is 10 minutes away. The receptionist asks me how I am getting to where I am staying, and I tell her. She is surprised I got a ride.

“It’s hit or miss up here with UBER,” she says.

I am about to depart the Fairbanks Memorial Hospital, not 60 minutes after I arrived.

A pleasant woman arrives in her car and I exit the hotel and fall flat on my butt just before entering the car. She Is concerned but not surprised. The crutches seem like a curse. I have already bent the aluminum panel that is behind my upper leg. I get up and get into the car, putting the crutches in the back seat. I told her what happened and she casually says that the first winter she was living in Fairbanks that she walked across the street to get her mail and fell on her back and broke her tailbone. Soon we are at the hotel and she wishes me well. The staff is noticeably concerned as I stumble past to the elevators. I have been up so long and not eaten anything but I just want to get out of the cold and into my room.

In my room I look at my phone and an email from Blue Cross has arrived to my Inbox. A new search feature for a specialist. How timely I think.

From the fall at this hospital I take off this brace and I try to bend it back. It doesn’t go so well. I give up and go to bed, I leave the curtains open on the second-floor window and outside it is so dark. I figure it doesn’t matter as the sun won’t be up until 9:00 or so in the morning.

So much for the Northern Lights, once on the bed I freeze there, trying to piece together everything that happened, and how quickly everything has changed. A 4,400 mile mileage run, and this.

The following day I make some calls and arrange for my boyfriend to take BART to Oakland, and pick up myself and my car, and drive me home, and then I will UBER him to his place. His mother is a retired nurse. We spoke on the phone and she is researching my injury.

Mid-morning I get an alert that I got upgraded on the Fairbanks to Seattle flight the following day. I immediately get an aisle seat, the last one, on the left-hand side. I exit the exit row on the Oakland flight and find an aisle with an empty middle seat. I then call Alaska Airlines. I tell the agent what happened briefly. On my phone I look at my app a short time later and on my boarding pass, “WCHR” appears. In the 17 years I worked for United, I never associated myself with such a thing.

The 820AM departure to the hotel means I should leave at 6:30am. I spend the rest of the day organizing my stuff so I can shower, get dressed, and get out of the hotel the following morning. The only room service this hotel has at this time of year is dinner from 4:00pm to 8:00pm. I call and order something, it had been about 24 hours since I had eaten anything. The food arrives quickly and tasted fine but it was food, nothing memorable, but then I was not functioning on all cylinders, but I knew I should eat something.

The Northern Lights were forgotten. It was hard to maneuver to the window, and the “mostly clear” day on the forecast the night before means snow all day, not a lot of snow, but continual precipitation that looked to add 6 inches of powder to the ground. I wonder what a storm is like.

I am up early and tell the front desk staff I will need help with the luggage. The driver appears quickly and I am soon in the van, after a short terrifying walk to the van door outside of the hotel. The driver apologetically tells me that laws prohibit them from dropping anyone off anywhere else than where I was picked up, which is a bit of a walk to the check-in desk.

AS 224U 26JAN FAI SEA 4C DEP 820AM ARR 100PM 737-MAX 9 (takeoff at 905AM and arrival at 1:30pm)


My suitcase on wheels is a friend supporting me as I slowly walk to the counter. I decline a wheelchair to the gate, stupid, and take the elevator to the second floor and am handed a TSA Pre-check card at the entrance to security. I put my backpack on the conveyor belt and turned to the metal detector and fall again! I want to throw away the crutches.

The TSA agent who I think is in charge tells me I and my backpack are going to secondary because I fell.

“Your leg brace is bent. Why is that?” she askes suspiciously. I respond that I have fallen two nights before.

Two senior gentlemen working with the TSA who are on the other side of the conveyor argue with her but I say I will go to secondary, no problem. I gather such a fall might register as a distraction. It certainly was painful. I walk into this small room and the two gentlemen follow me. I didn’t beep in the metal detector, as I put the brace on the conveyor belt, so I wonder what they will look at. They don’t. They both tell me that I have ruptured my quadricep tendon and “it comes with the territory up here.” I think of the Physician’s Assistant who casually told me my diagnosis two nights prior. They have both been victims of the same injury. One of the gentlemen had it happen to him on each leg! I open my backpack for them to look at, but they focus on my injury and how patient I will have to be while things heal. They tell me to hang in there, give me a pat on the back, and let me go towards the gate.

I find a seat close to the jetway entrance.

The Alaska agents page a senior gentleman to the gate and it appears they know him. He must live in Fairbanks. I can barely overhear but I believe they ask him to switch his seat in first class because of a family thing, and he readily agrees. I don’t know why I am trying to listen, but I do. I make note of what a polite, kind man he is, and like I usually am, he is in his element in this airport about to fly on Alaska Airlines.

Like everyone else in the world, I am looking at my phone when I see the footrests of a wheelchair as I stare past my phone to the floor.

It is one of the Alaska agents standing in front of me maneuvering the chair.

“This is the only way you are getting on this airplane,” the boarding agent says sternly.

A boarding announcement has not yet been made. My fall in security has made airport headlines. Soon we are on the plane and the crew actively assists me to my seat, 4C. I am so grateful this was available. The airplane is brand-new, The seats are slim and quite nice. My right leg can be extended slightly into the aisle.

The kind local gentlemen soon approaches; he is in 4A. I try to stand up to let him by me. He doesn’t want me to do that and slithers by me easily. He is not a huge person. He asks what happened and interrupts me after he hears fall on the ice and says ‘Quadricep tendon rupture.” It’s a thing in Alaska. It has been a while since I tackled writing a Trip Report, but I wonder if he is FlyerTalker “Seat 2A,” a Fairbanks resident who has been all over and responded to questions I had before visiting Alaska for the first time via private message. He liked my Easter Island Trip Report I remember. I don’t make a lot of conversation but am so relieved to be on the plane headed for the lower 48. I should have talked to him more, opportunity missed.

Boarding is completed on-time but the captain tells us they are starting de-icing. This takes a while. We push back and approach the runway, and then stop again and more de-icing fluid appears on the wings. The pilots are taking no chances. I think about my one-hour connection and look at the arrival gate, N9. I look at the Oakland flight’s departure gate, and it says S2. A last-ditch gate when there are no others.. on the South Satellite? Oh My God. We finally lift off and we will be close to 30 minutes late. Well, I have a wheelchair in Seattle. I wonder how that will go down.

I pre-ordered Breakfast on my app right before the cut-off the previous day and it arrived. It is not a lot of food but it is healthy-ish and enough. I had a glass of canned sparkling wine. I wish it tasted better but it is better than them not having anything sparkling. The crew’s “cabin coverage” is excellent. Every 15 minutes we are each checked on by the crew. Not that difficult to do but easy to skip.

We don’t make up any time but land and taxi to the gate. My seat mate bids me good-bye and reminds me that my injury is serious and to be patient. My departure gate got upgraded from S2 to the gate right next door to the one we are arriving at. I heave a sigh of relief.

Announcements are made to let the tight connections go first. I wait for the flood of people in that category from coach and then stand up and when the crew looks at me I tell them my flight leave in 30 minutes. Quickly I am in a wheelchair and leave the driving to someone else. From the Fairbanks flight to the Oakland flight, I think about 6 minutes elapsed. As we approached the gate for the Oakland flight, they announced early boarding. I sail in front of everyone and am quickly in 13C.

AS 1328Y 26JAN SEA OAK 13C DEP 205PM ARR 410PM 737-900 (right on time)

A smart looking 35ish woman approaches and says she is in 13A. I stand up and let her by. I tell her if she needs to go to the bathroom or get out please let me know. I can certainly stand up and let her by. She is very cool, and concerned about my injury.

The flight departs on time and soon we are airborne for Oakland. I try to watch some more downloaded stuff to pass the time, as the flight progresses expectantly.

We land in Oakland and I tell her she should go when my row starts vacating. She wants to assist me, I decline and say there is a wheelchair waiting and I need to be patient. An Asian man in a row or two in front of me is getting his bag from the overhead bin above me. Right then a large Caucasian man rushes in front of people and knocks this man aside and grabs his bag from the same overhead bin.

“Out of my way, I have a torn ACL !” he shouts.

The Asian man calmly asks why he had to almost push him over.

“I just told you, can’t you hear?”

My row-mate and I look at each other with the most bewildered look on our faces. She says: “Get up, we’re going together.” I decline but am overwhelmed by this interchange that just occurred next to me. If I had been standing I would surely have fallen over. If one has a torn ACL, should they bully past people disembarking from an airplane?

I am in a wheelchair for the long walk to baggage claim. My boyfriend is waiting and we get my bag and onto the off-site parking bus. I made it home as planned.

January 28th 2023

I have taken Uber to and from work for two days, and it really hurts to be moving around. My office is a busy place, and our department has summer camps for kids with registration opening on this day. I come into the office on Saturday to be there for the launch of registration, hoping to leave after things are underway. The software we use freezes due to too much demand right at 10:00am and for close to 40 minutes no one can register, and a mess ensues. Finally, its working but we have tons of unhappy customers, and I am at work on a Saturday for 7 hours instead of 2. I leave for the day around 4:30pm. I make it out to the street waiting for an UBER. A basketball game has let out and after many tries I get a message that no cars are available, meaning no one wants to pick me up and drive through the Caldecott Tunnel. Using the crutches, I go one block away and jump on the AC Transit Bus to the Rockridge BART station. That went fine. I pass the BART elevator and think of the possible urine mixed with methamphetamine odor and stupidly cross the street and go up the escalator. Trying to get off, with crutches, I fall backward down the escalator. Lying on the escalator I am delivered to the second floor on my back, my backpack and other items that fell from my pockets are strewn over the floor. Passengers going for the train to Bay Point step over me but two homeless gentlemen rush to get my belongings. One helps me up, and the second hands me my keys, I think my phone, and I gather my backpack and put it on. I thank them and gather myself. My hands are shaking. I look down at the 60ish African-American gentleman and see a knee compression sleeve on his leg. He says clearly:

“You go get your leg fixed with your insurance. If you don’t, you’ll walk like me, a cripple, for the rest of your life. If you don’t have insurance, this is all you get.” We stare at each other. I thank him again.

It was my week’s second “Twilight Zone” moment.

I slowly walk up the stairs to the platform and the train arrives. I sit by the door, and a woman looks at me from across the aisle. I must look terrible, my right arm is purple from falling days prior and now it’s worse. I feel moistness in my upper arm, I am bleeding, and tears stream down my face. I find a towel in my backpack to stop the blood before it hits the seat or the floor. I don’t wipe my face. I startled a BART worker at my station in the elevator but vow to use it if I ever take BART in this state again. Or wait for everyone else to go first and then take the stairs, one by one.

I had the surgery 10 days later and after initially hearing my recovery was going well started physical therapy as soon as I could.

In the rain I fell one night about 4-5 weeks after the initial surgery. My leg swelled up and after an MRI, I learned I had re-ruptured the tendon. Another surgery, and four months of wearing the leg brace at zero degrees, including at night. I threw away the crutches and got a walker.

It has been a journey, a difficult one, the second rupture my punishment for non-compliance and not understanding how serious this injury was, and a strong reminder of our fragileness as humans and my age.

For a month after the second surgery, I have little balance. I can only go outside once per week to the grocery store and every two weeks to the doctor, who is constantly checking out my leg. Thankfully I am very busy working from home, but it is all that I do. My close to 10-inch scar above my knee and lower quadricep muscle, stapled shut twice, aches. Per the doctor, I have double the scar tissue and this tendon protrudes into it lifting that area of my leg. I also have “introduced” tendons in addition to my own. At night when alone, I toast the young person who isn’t here anymore. My two legs will never look the same.

I am fascinated by others who see my leg brace and/or walker and run in front of me to grab something at the Safeway store, almost knocking me over. I think of the man with the “torn ACL” who knocks people over because of his perceived disability. One day, an UBER driver sees my walker, which fits in a car, and cancels the trip in front of me and drives away. Instead of getting mad, I am fascinated by my observance of human behavior.

While most people I encounter are nice, many act as if what happened to me could never happen to them. It can. In mid-July I am able to drive again. I start with short trips and test my reaction time in the early weekend mornings. It seems to be OK. Slowly my confidence on the road grows.

The physical therapy exercises are hard but good, and going to the shower without the brace I realize I can walk again. I’m taking it slow. I am famous at the orthopedic surgeon’s office and its adjoining physical therapy center for all the wrong reasons. I think I am over the hump in this healing process but as an extended family member has said to me over and over.

“My knee is my biggest customer.”

Alaska Airlines…. this Mileage Run, totaling 4,398 miles, is one that I will never forget.