With the 2023 season all tied up and with it leaving me just looking at the “lows” instead of the “highs” it left me in a bit of a negative mental state whilst supporting BTC club mates at Almere. It’s all relative I know but whilst the elation of watching friends achieve their goals amidst the very rare heat that day and them defeating their own demons along the way, the post-event blues kicked in harder than it should considering I closed the curtains on my season a week earlier.
I guess the reason for these “blues” were because it wasn’t my choice. If it had been my choice I’m sure these feelings wouldn’t be as strong as they are. But the crash and the injured shoulder put a stop on things, it’s out of my control which is the frustrating thing. What’s more difficult is the winning times at Almere were within my grasp so there’s definitely an axe to grind perhaps next year at this event! I’m reminded by Suzy about how the heat would’ve affected my performance – Challenge Roth was hot in July and I melted within an hour of riding – so perhaps this wasn’t within my reach? Would’ve Should’ve Could’ve – we’ll never know.
Upon returning from Almere I had initially planned to have yet another week off and just call it my “End Of Season Break” and get down to business for 2024. This lasted a grand total of 2 days and Tuesday I was back in the gym on the Wattbike on a new self-coached plan to get me to the starting in April/May to whatever event comes up first in 100% premium condition. Alongside this, I had reduced my bodyweight over the past 8 weeks, leading into the European Champs mainly and the results had me wanting for more progress as I could see the potential of losing a few more pounds. The cycling regime consisted of a 6-day week on the bike, two sessions were recovery sessions which lasted a hour, almost too easy some would say. There were two sessions which would maintain the form I was in and there were two that would stretch me a little.
My first few sessions were extremely difficult, not because I was unfit or my legs weren’t good enough. It was simply down to my shoulder not being able to hold the handlebars well. As the session progressed I was “ok” with a slowly improving shoulder although any movement above shoulder-height was difficult.
The shoulder needed looking at and it was clear that the A&E I had my initial treatment were being downright awkward in providing my local hospital with the necessary notes and information to continue my care. The specialist at the local hospital was pretty rude to be fair, telling my to shut up & listen to him as I was explaining the pain and limited range of movement I had. He even refused to accept there was even a postural dislocation at all. The “fob-off” comment was “see you in 6 weeks” which didn’t sit with me well at all as I knew there was a problem and he failed to see it.
I’m (we’re) fortunate enough to have the option of private medical insurance and I proceeded to get to see an online GP to get a private referral at a hospital 90 miles away to see me within a few days. The injury was confirmed as a Grade 4 dislocation which needed surgery to correct it – more surgery! I was reassured that this procedure was a simple thing and I’d be in & out within a day, perhaps overnight to make sure I didn’t have any complications – perfect I thought. Getting it done in the off season is the right time – I’d be taking things fairly easily anyway so let’s go!
But first I need a MRI to get images to confirm the diagnosis – but unfortunately nothing could be arranged until a few weeks’ time. We were just about to head to Mallorca for 12 days so first-thing when we get back – sorted.
Alongside this, I contacted the hospital patients liaison service as I felt I hadn’t been treated fairly, in reality the consultant didn’t even examine me and look at the bone sticking up out of my shoulder so he clearly missed the diagnosis. Just before our holiday I was invited back to the hospital to see the consultant again – this was going to be awkward! Actually, it was’t… the consultant was someone else and the person I saw initially was just one of his assistants. This time I was examined and it was agreed I needed a MRI and referral to the shoulder guy – yep – the guy who operated on my knee 2+ years ago!
Mallorca!
So time to get away for our annual pilgrimage to Alcudia. Suzy & I had set out 5 days before our friends joined us. She had to work still so organised an extra-strong Spanish router to be delivered to our hotel and she had booked some local office-space with super-fast broadband to make sure her meetings were not disrupted.
We arrived on the Sunday lunchtime at the hotel after a magical mystery tour by the Jet2 coach dropping off various people to various hotels. Suzy is learning Spanish and managed to check us in early and we got out rooms straight away. A quick drop of the bags and then we headed straight to the bike rental guy who we’d rented from for several years – a one man band so we appreciated he needed to make a living and he appreciated our continued custom.
Bikes sorted, let’s get the first ride done – Formentor. This seems to be the standard ride for Day 1 for me every time I’ve ever gone to Alcudia. It’s safe to say I’ve been there every year since 1996 and a few more times as well and Formentor is always on the cards – iconic.
Back into Pollenca and the compulsory coffee (or beer) and apple cake at PCH is a must for any rider!
Day 2 saw Suzy at work so I thought I’d head south and take on Randa (Cura) and see how things are going before planning out the rest of the day. Randa is a 500m climb, not massive but still a stand-out climb amongst the flats of the south of the island, the weather station on top of the climb can be seen from pretty much any point of the island on a clear day. I headed up the climb, mindful of my last few rides up there and how its first few kilometres are quite deceiving. Once at the top it was a quick coffee & cake (of course) at the cafe there and then to descend and then head to San Salvador – another 500m+ climb and yes, another coffee & cake stop at the top before heading back to Alcudia. 100 miles pretty much on the button once back at the hotel.
Day 3 saw me head out to my favourite “happy place” – Batalla. The famous climb which finishes at the petrol station is again another epic climb in Mallorca. The early slopes seem just enough to get the heart pumping and then it eases off a touch before the final 10minutes where it steepens before that sign to tell you it’s over. A coffee & cake stop at the station before turning right and hitting Fermenia (another climb) and dropping into Pollenca. I was looking for another hour or so before getting back to the hotel so I took on the first climb to Formentor again (Crueta) and then turned right to go up the rough road to the beacon which can be seen for many miles. I’d never ridden this road until last November where I went up with the Sa Colobra Training Camp so was keen to take this on without Aurelien shouting in my ear! No coffee & cake at the top of this abandoned building so back to the hotel to refill before Suzy finishes work.
Day 4 headed out on the flats to Santa Maria before looping round through Esporles & Veldemossa and then back to Santa Maria and heading back (almost) the same way I headed out. All was going ok – the stop at Valdemossa had coffee & cake (again) albeit a little pricey – they’re a bit posh out there! Then I descended into Plamanyola before heading left to Santa Maria again. On the way I saw Aurelien in the new Sa Calobra white kit going the other way – he was travelling at speed (as he always does) and I was heading with some purpose to get home so a simple wave was enough. I came into Santa Maria and was stopped by a set of traffic lights going red. God knows why but I put my right foot down onto the raised pavement to my right. I always put my left foot down but not this time. My foot rolled, my ankle gave way and I fell off my bike at 0MPH. I felt instant pain and couldn’t put any weight on my right leg – something was wrong.
A lady and her child came to my assistance immediately asking if I needed an ambulance or the hospital but I was adamant it was a silly fall and I’d be on my way once the adrenaline stopped kicking in! I clipped in and headed back to Alcuida some 25miles (40km) away. I think the adrenaline was still present as the pain, although constant was low enough for me to be pushing the pedals both sides before I eased off in the Alcudia traffic – then it really started to hurt.
I stopped by Suzy’s workplace and called her – she came out to see me and saw my ankle had double in size. I said I’d just back to the hotel, rest and see if the swelling would reduce. She said she’d finish the day as quick as possible and come back to the hotel.
I didn’t make it to the hotel, I stopped about 100m short, at a doctors doorway – one of those “24hr doctor” places you see whilst on holiday. It was ten to four and they reopened at 4 so I sat in their doorway until then opened. The receptionist didn’t seem bothered by my football-sized ankle and called a doctor, within 15mins he arrived at the shop and suggested I go to the local medical centre in Muro as it might be broken, but he thought it was a severe sprain.
A taxi arrived and the taxi driver was very helpful in getting me into, and out of the taxi to the medical centre. In fairness, looking back the doctor was also helpful in putting my bike, my shoes, helmet and glasses into his backroom until Suzy could collect later that day.
After the usual private medical insurance checks I was eventually seen and X-rayed – broken!
One hello of a break too – right across the fibula and the ankle end…how the hell did I ride 25miles home???
I rang Suzy and she had just finished work and was riding to the medical centre to see me. She arrived and I told her the bad news, I’m going to be honest and I had (yet) another meltdown in my many over recent years and she seemed to just take it in her stride and I was whisked off in an ambulance to Palma to the main hospital to get admitted and fixed. Suzy returned to the hotel. Collected my bike – returned it to the rental place is I wasn’t going to be using it anymore and just waited for me for some news.
I was admitted to their A&E and blood tests were taken, I also had a few more X-rays and a CT Scan to find out what the extent of the break was. Looking at the images I had done a bloody good job – not only was the fib broken but I had also taken a chunk out of the tibia by the “high energy” twist of the ankle when I fell over and had separated the important ATF Ligaments around the ankle joint so surgery was definitely on the cards. Suzy sent me the Travel Insurance details and I gave these to the translator nurse and they insurance company were in full swing by the end of the day. I told Suzy the news and we both prepared for a different holiday than what we had planned. In the meantime she had arranged for a rental car to come and see me and ferry me around the island once out of hospital. Concerned she had never driven at night in Mallorca she stayed in Alcudia before the following day when she’d come & see me.
The following day – great timing! – was a national holiday in Spain so no operations were happening so I had to wait until the following day before being fixed. Suzy arrived and brought a few nibbles to eat as the Spanish private hospital menu was not generous to say the least! A simple bread roll, jam or margarine, a kiwi fruit and a bottle of water seemed the norm regardless of the time of day – not quite the UK Private Hospital experience I had in February in London 🙁
Suzy stayed a little longer after hearing the news and sitting with me probably having another meltdown about my stupid crash and how it had affected the rest of the holiday. We had so many rides planned together, new cafes, new little climbs and I had to spoil it. Once Suzy left I was just watching either Spanish football or German Eurosport – considering it was an international hospital with quite a few English, German, Dutch and Danish patients I was quite surprised they didn’t offer a more varied TV schedule.
The following day I was “Nil By Mouth” from midnight. Pretty hungry already by the lack of food offerings things were potentially going to get worse as the insurance company had yet to send authorisation for the operation and I was asked by a lady on the rooms’ phone to pay for it myself before heading down to theatre! On the 11th hour they came through and the operation went as planned. The way the Spanish do things were obviously different to the UK. The fact I was awake throughout the operation although sedated was different. The little screen put up in front of me served very little as I could hear most of what was going on although I felt nothing – the epidural put pay to that. Operation was a success – they also saved the tattoo on that side – small wins!
Later that day our friends would arrive, upon asking where I was Suzy broke the news, no-one knew at this point as I didn’t seem to burden anyone until I’d been fixed. No point in spoiling their holiday before it had started.
They came to visit the next day, bringing more food, and also taking me down to the hospital cafe for coffee & cake – it’d been 3 days since my last one! The cafe staff didn’t seem happy with me coming down in a wheelchair and on a drip but we sat in the corner and bothered no-one. Once back to the room they left me to my foreign TV for another night.
The following day I had good news – I was being discharged from hospital. The head doctor came round early to say I was clear to go but needed the Orthopaedic doctor to confirm it. He did about midday and showed me his handiwork – quite a big scar with 14 staples holding it together – not quite the 5cm scar I had in my head. I called Suzy and she came to the hospital after lunch.
Just as with the UK private hospital, they left it to me to leave, no assistance and still with a cannula in my arm. They only took it out once I had pressed the button on the lift to go downstairs – the nurse did it as I was standing – not quite the farewell I was anticipating. Back to the hotel and back to the all you can eat buffet!
The next few days were much better than the hospital stay. I was with friends and the hire of a wheelchair got me mobile so we could head out into Alcudia and at least enjoy the weather. I did feel totally responsible for putting a negative tone to the holiday, both for myself, Suzy & my friends but they seemed just happy to not be back in the UK and the usual grind of day-to-day life. My mobility was obviously affected as I was now in double crutches (again) and limited to moving around as much as we’d planned. It didn’t stop them going out for rides – in fact I was keen for them to do it in my absence as I didn’t want to stop them from enjoying the island. Whilst they were doing this I just kept myself busy listening to podcasts and reading (listening) to books saved on my Audible App.
Coming up to the last day, I needed a “Fit To Fly” certificate for Jet2 to allow me to come home. The rep at the hotel – John, was amazing throughout and did everything he could to try & make my return back to the UK as comfortable as possible. I think it’s safe to say without his help I would’ve struggled. Compared to other flight providers I really do think I’d not get the same service – reason enough to book with them again.
We had to go back to the Muro Medical Centre to get the certificate. Another €70 extra spent as well as quite a few more for the various out-of-pocket expenses because of this stupid innocuous fall. The doctor looked at my scar & staples and was hesitant in giving me the certificate, it seemed the scar was red and swollen suggesting an infection. Looking back it was fair to say he was seriously considering to keep my in Mallorca for a few more days, weeks even, to control it but I suggested antibiotics and this seemed to stop him from making that decision. He did say, upon getting back to the UK, I would need to go to the nearest Hospital and get it checked immediately. Another trip to the Pharmacy near the hotel required and some proper “horse pills”.
Next day we headed back to the UK on the Jet2 flight – all with special assistance. Stanstead Airport, traditionally had no provision for special assistance, no wheelchairs, no means to get Suzy into the airport to assist me. Having a trip on the telescopic lorry that gets disabled flyers in & out of the aircraft was a highlight. Although the wet floor didn’t seem appealing with someone with one leg! The driver was nice enough and he took extra care to get me off into the terminal. We eventually found a wheelchair and flew through passport control and met our friends with our baggage.
The journey back was interesting, Britain had been hit by a storm and a lot of the roads were flooded – even the main arterial ones. So a 2hr journey turned into a 4hr mystery drive into Essex & Suffolk lanes I had only ridden through in the past.
Once we got home it was a phone call to “111” to get the medical ball rolling in the UK. The on-call doctor eventually called back at 10pm and we were told to go to the nearest A&E “just to be safe”. We came out of the hospital around 2am, following blood tests and further X-rays with peace of mind the antibiotics I was taking had controlled the infection and it was receding.
The downsides to this accident – despite the obvious injuries, is that the MRI can no longer go ahead due to me having a new piece of metal in my body. Apparently I need a clear 6 weeks from surgery before an MRI can take place – so therefore I have a piece of bone sticking out of my shoulder for the next few weeks before my ankle gets sorted. I have asked my consultant whether the shoulder can get operated on regardless but I haven’t had an answer yet – fingers crossed.
So, here we are. I’ve yet to look back at 2023 with positive vibes and the achievements I’ve had. In the meantime I’m consumed with “what ifs” and whether my return to sport will happen this side of Christmas and also, whether to ignore the ambulance drivers’ comments to take up Snooker, or perhaps friends advice to consider Darts or Lawn Bowls. Perhaps the signs are obvious?
Appreciation section: Suzy.
I really don’t know what to say when you get that phone call saying your loved-one has had a crash/accident. I’m definitely sure it isn’t one I would like to get, buy she’s had it three times now and I think I’m digging her an early stressful grave. But yet, she takes it all in her stride, sees me through the mayhem and the meltdowns and still smiles when it all gets a bit too much.
I’m not entirely sure how I’d manage the past 30 months – I’m really not sure how one managed all these years to be fair! The physicality of it all – of course, she’s been there to help but the whole mental experience has been reassured by her. We’ll get through it – we always do. We’re a team.