Saturday, August 6, 2022: Running late for a big Desert Pigs cleanup in Minden, I was standing in my dump trailer, struggling to get a riding mower with flat tires out of it. I needed this trailer for that morning’s adventure 11 miles deep into the Pine Nuts.

The little tractor, and occupied camper trailer, and many piles of assorted junk filled my back yard, since my mother had just moved back there after getting evicted from her place. It was only a couple weeks after I had cleared my back yard of my extra vehicles and about 800 tires collected from Pig runs. Now it was filling back up.

Having dragged the heavy riding mower halfway over the ramp, with its larger rear wheels over the hump, I could feel something catch underneath. Annoyed and stressed about the lost time, I grabbed to front and snatched upward to free the front half of the riding mower.

*Snap*

I could hear the sound in my body. It was like a combination of a wet popping noise, combined with a corner of wafer board snapping. It felt like someone threw a trailer hitch into my back. The pain was the worst I had ever experienced. I rolled around in the trailer for a bit, expressing my displeasure with the sudden pain.

I apparently went into shock. Fortunately, my autopilot is a pretty dependable guy. He’s always looked out for us and used better common sense than me. His past accomplishments:

• Stopped me from falling down when my friends and I were passing each other out in high school. While I was completely checked out, he walked, and even told the others how this activity can cause brain damage.
• Brought a moving vehicle to a full stop on the side of the road once when I passed out while driving.
• Has been suspected of throwing hands while I’m under anesthesia, according to extra stitches and some questionable surgery notes. I don’t know what he told the colonoscopy folks, but they warned each other to watch out for me.
• Finished unloading the riding mower, apparently threw each 60-pound ramp about 10 feet, hooked up the trailer, loaded the gear, and parked it in front of my house.

Of course, I wasn’t around to experience any of these events, but with the exception of the back injury that morning, all had witnesses to see Autopilot drive the Phil. To this day, I can only remember hurting my back, then walking to the loaded truck and trailer parked out front, running.

I participated with the Pig run, mostly just filming, while taking all the over-the-counter pain killers I safely could. Finding out two days later that I had a spinal fracture, it made sense why that 22 miles of rough tail riding hurt so much.

After a weekend of activities, the following Monday was too painful to bear. A trip to the urgent care led to a trip to the X-ray, which revealed a lumbar fracture. I was in a brace for a few months after that, but was still able to participate in Desert Pigs adventures, as long as I was careful. From then on, my crew members have always been there to yell at me when I try to pick up something heavy.

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Today

I guess an L4 compression fracture never really heals. I mean, it sort of does, but it’s never right again. Pain is an every day thing, although with some tricks I learned in physical therapy, I’ve learned how to use back certain muscles to compensate. With this, I have been able to lift some heavy objects without the fear of injury.

While I have adapted somewhat, I am still limited. A couple of hours on a Pig run is usually enough to make me hurt a little for the rest of the day. Daily manual labor is not an option. Long car rides are also a pain. Even laying down hurts, due to the way my muscles get used to support my spine.

Thankfully, I can still feel my legs and have full control over my own plumbing. I will do what I can to make sure this remains the case.