The Fields Dunaway Adventure Log: June 2016

The hospital in the small town of Mountain Mesa, near Lake Isabella, looks more like a deserted school on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend. We circle around the building, looking for the emergency entrance. Donette sees a sign for "admitting" and goes to check it out, but there is no one there. We continue around the block, and finally see the Emergency entrance in the back. Parking as close to the doors as we can, I gingerly step down from the van and slowly and hesitatingly walk thru the double doors and down the long, dimly lit corridors. Rounding a corner, we finally find signs of activity, and a waiting room full of patients. The stone faced young woman at the admitting window hands us stacks of papers to fill out prior to treatment, not caring that I can barely stand at the window, let alone fill out forms. I slump to the floor while Donette rapidly fills out the forms, and scrawl a signature where she indicates. "Take a seat", says the admitting nurse. Donette inquires how long it might be, and receives a shrug in reply. I hobble over to a row of chairs, and slump onto the ground next to one, the only position I've found where the pain is somewhat tolerable.

A few short hours earlier we had launched our kayaks down the Chamise Gorge run on the Upper Kern, my favorite section of the river. A warming trend had brought the flows up to a very fun level of about 1,000 cfs below the Fairview Dam. Donette and I had been wanting to get on this section all spring, but the timing had just not worked out. Now we were here with plenty of water and a great group of friends (Brett, Liz, Ryo, Alison, Greg, Geno, Anthea, and John) to boat it with.

Donette in Airplane Turn

Donette and I both enjoyed the run as we refamiliarized ourselves with the rapids. Due to the ongoing drought in California, there hadn't been enough water to run this section in 2015, so this was our first time down in 2 years. We both had good lines and felt pretty relaxed and confident in our boats. As we approached the last rapid, Gangbang, there was some discussion on whether there was enough water to skirt the last rock in the rapid on both the left and the traditional right side. The consensus was that both sides would go. Just stay away from the rock in the center, our friends warned. It's "bad". Now "bad" isn't a very detailed description, but it was certainly sufficient for me to want to do my best to avoid said rock. However, just for kicks, let's take a look at what "bad" means in this particular case. Below is a picture looking upstream at a lower flow. The current pushes pretty strongly into the large rock in the center, and right below it sits another flat rock with a crescent shaped cut-out on one side. At Saturday's flows, the water poured over the large rock and covered the flat work as well, obscuring it from sight. I think that most boaters would agree that bad is an accurate description of this rock, and staying clear is well advised.

I started down the right side of the river, intending to stay well away from the "bad" rock. However, I underestimated the push of the river to center. As I punched through a couple of holes above the rock I found myself heading straight towards the rock. I turned and paddled hard towards the right, but it was apparent I wasn't going to clear it. Not being aware of the flat rock lurking below, my only concern was dropping into the hole below the rock. As I washed over the rock and eyed the hole below, I felt myself get bashed into an unseen rock, absorbing the entire impact on my left bicep area. I had hit the very edge of the flat rock below. The impact was vicious, and knocked me upside down in mid air, and I eyed the hole apprehensively as I fell into it updside down. My arm hurt tremendously, and I remember thinking hoping that I would flush through the hole, as swimming in a recirculating hole with an injured arm would not be fun. I held my breath, felt the boat toss a bit in the hole, and then felt it flush free. I rolled up and felt a fresh stab of pain in my arm. Luckily, I came up in an eddy, and as I attempted to paddle to shore it became apparent that my left arm was not going to be a part of the process. Liz saw my cumbersome attempt to paddle to shore one handed and zipped over to help pull my boat ashore. Thankfully, we were right at the takeout. Liz and Geno helped me from my boat and did a quick medical assessment. It was soon apparent that my left shoulder was no longer in its socket. We decided to try reducing it right away, as both Liz and Geno knew the procedure. However, we were also unsure if there were other injuries inside, so didn't want to pull too vigorously. Liz gave it a couple of tries, and when it did not go easily back into place we opted for a trip to the hospital. Donette ran to get our van while everyone else graciously carried all my gear up to the parking lot. Knowing that medical personal are often quite unsympathetic to the cost of outdoor gear, and more than willing to quickly employ the scissors to remove it, we used the time waiting for Donette to gingerly remove my dry top. The minor increase in pain was well worth the successful attempt. Our friends loaded our boats in the van and gave us directions to the nearest hospital, close to an hour away, and off we went.

After 45 minutes or so in the hospital waiting room, with no sign of a doctor or a nurse, we began to ask the other patients how long they had been waiting. A man with a painful looking hand injury said he waited 2.5 hours to get x-rays and pain meds, and had been waiting another 1.5 hours since then to see the one and only doctor on staff. The other patients told similar tales. It was another hours drive to Bakersfield, but the general consensus was that we would get better care there. Donette brought the van around and helped me back inside. I slumped on the floor in back, unable to sit in a seat. Traffic was light and we made good time to Bakersfield. We drove up to San Joaquin Community Hospital, arriving about 4:15. My arm had been dislocated for three hours now, and the pain was getting more intense as time went by.

As we walked through the doors the scene was what you would expect at a big city emergency room on a holiday weekend. The waiting room was packed, and doctors and nurses hurried to and fro. We found the triage station and got in line. We had only been in line for a few seconds before we were approached by a nurse, who could obviously tell I was in serious pain. She immediately pulled me to an open admitting window, we did a brief amount of paperwork, and within a few minutes I was being evaluated by a doctor. He concurred with our assessment of the injury, and moments later I was receiving a welcome dose of pain killers. All of the staff were caring and competent, and Donette and I both knew we had made the right decision to make the extra drive.

Ahh, back in place!

It still took several hours to get the x-rays taken, wait for the radiologist to read them, get an open bed, and finally, about 7:15, get my arm put back in place.
Then another hour to wait for the follow up x-rays and discharge paperwork. We finally left the hospital at 9:45, with my arm in a sling, a prescription for painkillers, and directions to the closest brew pub. My arm did not really hurt anymore, which we attributed to pain meds from the hospital still coursing through my veins. After burgers and brews, we headed back towards Kernville, looking for a place to spend the night. There was no thought of returning home. Even though my boating was over for a few weeks, Donette was healthy and able and had a good crew ready to go the next two days.

Donette enjoyed two more days of boating with excellent flows and great friends, while I drove shuttle, took some photos, and kept Luna company in the van. We had a nice potluck at Brett and Liz's Sunday night and enjoyed Liz's homemade lasagnas. I was bummed to not only be missing the boating this weekend, but also to miss the rest of the season on the Upper Kern. However, I also know it could have been much worse, and was thankful for the help and support from all our boating friends. Below are a few pictures from Sunday and Monday's runs. Click on any picture for an enlarged version.