I'm in NYC working on getting better after my motorcycle accident in Uganda, and it's been the toughest experience of my life... But don't worry, as soon as I can walk again I'm heading back out to complete this expedition and finish what I started (but it might be a few months though)...
It all happened on Friday, the 13th of March, and here's the story... We had just finished the hut for old man Colonel Sanders, and I met with another woman in front of her grass hut and promised to build her a mud one next week and she was so stoked we danced it out... I said my goodbyes to the kids and started home... About 1/2 hour into the journey I came around a blind corner to be faced with a speeding Land Rover on my side of the road. We both swerved to miss each other, but unfortunately both went the same direction and I ended up getting broadsided - with my left side smashed between my bike and the truck. I woke up in the dirt feeling blood dripping down my neck, and looked down at my leg where the femur was broken in half and laying strangely perpendicular to my body. My arm was doing the same thing (being all twisted where it shouldn't be) and there was blood everywhere - but the pain kept making me pass out... My only concern and prayer at the time was "please let me survive so my mother doesn't have to fly to Africa to pick up my body - she couldn't handle that"... I woke up a while later to see a few more faces and felt them trying to put me in the back of a Toyota Corolla and eventually they crammed me in with all my broken parts jammed in at different angles. I could feel the bones grinding against each other the whole time so yeah, I was screaming as well... I've never even imagined pain like that, and I believed that there was no way I'd survive the ride, but after about two hours of the most painful experience ever, we arrived...
It started out with the "technician" being too drunk to take x-rays, but life got much better as Dr. Robert walked in - a dutch doctor who was in the area on a short medical mission. His wife was with him and she held my hand as he started to work, yanking on my ankle to straighten my femur, pulling my arm straight, and sewing up my leg - all of which really sucked with no pain killers. He got everything together and said he wouldn't attempt any sort of invasive surgery due to the chance of infection, so I'd have to get to Kampala to sort things out. I stayed in Kisoro for 3 days to stabilize and was incredibly blessed to have Dr. Robert, his wife, and my angel of mercy, Marie McGee taking care of me. Marie is a nurse from the U.S. in Uganda on a medical mission who heard that a muzungu (white man) was brought to the local clinic, and made sure I was comfortable by bringing me food from home, helping me get painkillers, and overall just calming my soul. She was a complete godsend for me... She wrote of the experience on her blog at http://mariemcgee.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-is-barton-brooks.html They took care of me until we could arrange the plane, and then loaded me in the back of a truck and drove me to an airfield to get to Kampala... These people truly did save my life, and I'll always be grateful to them all.. I got to Kampala and my first night they did some work on my leg and unfortunately used Ketamine to put me out (an animal tranquilizer) and I had the most horrific hallucinations. I've never done a drug in my life so to be put in a K-Hole for surgery wasn't really my thing. Imagine hallucinating in the matrix - but awake - while someone is doing surgery on you... Not cool... It got much better after that as everyone was incredibly nice, and eventually an external fixator on my femur, cast my arm, and got me all ready for transport back to the states to do the major surgeries. I was in Kampala wondering how to get home, when my mother and brother were given the green light by the embassy to come over and help get me back to NYC. Many tears were shed the day I saw my mothers face as she stepped into that dark room, and I was so glad my prayers of having her pick me up alive were answered. It still humbles me and makes me cry to this day - my 70 year old mother flying 30 hours to bring me home - reminds me of our unbreakable bond. It also gave us some time together that we haven't had in years, and although my brother and I have always been close, this took it to a whole new level. He is kind of an uber-jock and brought me the cap from his recently completed Iron Man to help get me better - and it's now my favorite hat ever... We flew back to NYC on just a regular commercial flight, and I'd not suggest that to anyone, as it sucks when the flight attendant drags the beverage cart and tags the brace that is holding your femur together... Again, not cool... So here I am at the NYU hospital in NYC, it's been over a month, and I'm learning to walk again. So strange to go from having the strength and ability to go anywhere in the world then bam, end up laying in bed for weeks trying to move your toes. I walk for 30 feet and get too tired, so I have to rest and drink cold water before I walk the 30 feet back to the room.. Crazy pain - but I'm getting better everyday. I'm still a bit unsure about what all of this means, what lessons I'm supposed to learn, and what happens next, but I'm here - plowing through it. As for the Batwa project, all the original goals have been accomplished as I got the money to Anthony to finish, and my friends Chris Brown and Paul Howell immediately went out to finish the project, and I'll go back as soon as I can. Much love to you all, and thank you so much for your kind words of support...
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Guerrilla Aid is a style of volunteerism - simply go somewhere and do something,
while teaching others to do the same.
