Life revelations after waking up at the bottom of a 40′ cliff

Picture: Golden sunset light on red rock cliff in Kodachrome Basin State Park, Utah

It’s been just over three weeks now since I had my accident, walking right off the edge of a 40′ cliff on a dark desert night in Death Valley. I still have no clue as to exactly how long I must have laid unconscious at the base of that cliff before I woke up. I still remember the rational part of my brain attempting to kick itself into gear, trying to cope with the confusing question going through my head of, “how the hell did I get here?”

I am most thankful for the fact that I had absolutely no sense of shock or panic. I really was just too busy trying to comprehend how I could have arrived in this circumstance. Later, I would piece together small fragments of ‘memories’, and arrive at the most non-glamourous conclusion that I must have gotten out of my truck to take a nature call, and mistook the larger rocks and shrubs 40′ below as just being a continuation of the small plants and stones at my feet, and simply never saw the sheer edge in the darkness. I imagine it was like that scene with Harrison Ford in the movie Indiana Jones & the Last Cruscade, where to save his father, Indy must step off a cliff, and take the proverbial leap of faith. Except in my case, I took the step, and had no Hollywood special effect to save me from the ever-present force of gravity.

The first thing I remember is waking up lying face down on the ground. First test was, “Can I lift my head?” Answer: yes. “Could I sit up?” Again, yes; the legs worked. Then came the awareness of the soreness and swelling in my wrist and ribs. I could still move the fingers and touch finger-tips to one another, but any moving was going to be very slow and very uncomfortable. The next big hurdle, “Could I stand up?” Fortunately, the painful and laborious answer was also to the affirmative. So there I stood, at the base of this cliff, leaning on a shoulder-high chain link fence, which was obviously put there to keep any flash floods from eroding the base of the cliff, and on which the road and my truck sat high atop.

There was one little twist of fate that helped me to maintain my sense of calm self-assesment when I first regained consciousness. Once I was standing, I checked my pockets. No keys; they must still be in my truck. I did find a lighter. Given that I’d quit smoking cigarettes over a year ago, lighters are not usually found within my reach the way the used to be. However, on rare occasions – like this particular trip / evening, I would allow myself to have a Swisher Sweet Cigarillo, since they have none of the addictive appeal that cigarettes had. I can have one, then not even think about having another for many months. Having had a few puffs of a cigar that night just before climbing into the back of my truck to get some sleep, old habits must have made me simply stuff the lighter into my pants pocket.

Finding that lighter was like finding a small saving grace. Using it to make that small campfire for those few hours while I sat quietly, and quite alone in that cool dark desert night not only allowed me a chance to stay warm, but it also let me relax my mind. It was that time that I used to rationally work through my thoughts without feeling any sense of being concerned, rushed, or too worried. The calming warmth and glow of that fire was the key that kept away the creatures of the dark, which in my case wasn’t coyotes or snakes, but rather the panic or shock that would have been the more natural response in my situation.

Eventually, the lure of my truck made the thought of a long, slow, painful walk-by-braille journey through the darkness more appealing than putting another bush branch on to my little fire. I stood, and slowly started walking down the wash toward where I knew the main highway was, and parallel to base of the cliff. It wasn’t more than about 10 or 15 minutes before I found a place where I could climb or traverse my way back up the hillside toward the road.

Picture: Rugged hills of Death Valley in Spring – taken years ago, ironically very near where my accident happened.

Within 6 hours from the time when I found myself at the base of the cliff, I was driving myself back to the Bay Area. Then came the quick trip to the hopsital Monday evening for rib & wrist x-rays, pain meds, and back to home for rest. Two days later, no amount of the prescribed meds were doing anything to relieve the migraine like headache I had. I’d stopped eating & drinking, and it was all I could do to lay down and keep my hand on my forehead hoping it would help ease the pain. That was the start of my five days back in the hospital being treated for the (albiet) minor subdural hematoma, or bleeding on the brain.

I spent another week and a half back home, not working, not doing anything but just letting the recovery happen. In fact, I never even brought out or opened my laptop until last Friday. I’m finally just starting to feel where I can slowly start getting a little bit of work done again, even if it’s only for a few hours at a time.

My mom asked me during a recent visit whether I had any major revelations about life or spirituality while I sat at the base of that cliff. I think she was a bit taken aback when I said, “Nope, not really. No.” You see, I’m not a very religious person, but I am a very spiritual one. For me, the thoughts I had sitting at the bottom of that cliff were things like, “How do I get back to my truck? Will I be able to drive? What was I going to say to my client? Could I still do the workshop?” I probably spent most of the time trying to suck up the blow to my professional ego, knowing I was likely going to have to cancel on someone who’d flown cross country to meet me.

But as for what my mom was asking, I suppose those types of revelations have slowly been dawning on me and sinking into my consciousness over these last few weeks of recovery. Being forced into a position of not even being able to worry about work, or feeling the stress of falling further behind has been quite liberating, and has given me a new sense of peace and appreciation for the balance we need to maintain in life. There is no doubt that I was extremely fortunate, especially when thinking about how things could have potentially turned out so much worse. Its made me reappraise those important aspects of life, the larger things that are really important, and the ever appropriate pearl, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

It’s odd and sad that today the news is broadcasting the death of actress Natasha Richardson, 45, from an apparently minor blow to the head when she took a fall on a bunny slope at a ski area. She’d been fine, and was talking and laughing with others until hours later when a headache appeared. It seems her injury had in reality resulted in a more massive subdural hematoma. And at nearly my same age, she has now passed away only a few days after her accident. There but for the grace of God I could have gone.

As a result of this story, our local major market news-talk radio station KGO here in the Bay Area actually did a show about these types of head injuries. I decided to call in and add my story into the mix.