Linda Salamone's Blog

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Right lateral humerus, post op Day 7. Staples came out 15 minutes later and splint was ditched, too. I'm still waiting to get the images of the fractures pre-op from Georgia. I think I can reasonably deduct a pound or two from the numbers on my bathroom scale now instead of counting it as fat weight...

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

I was pretty satisfied with my performance at the Rob Kells Memorial Competition at the Florida Ridge. My body was sore and tired from 4 hour-plus flights, but no troubles with my back, and I was sleeping well in the pop-up. 3 of 4 days at goal, and the landing out was my best finish! The first day of the Rally sucked for me however, but days 2 and 3 proved to me that I could still finish fairly strong. I am not a fast pilot, but I had been making good decisions to leave areas when they were unproductive, and on Day 4 of the Rally, I left the Moultrie airport after dicking around with bullshit lift in the start circle for too long. Day 3’s task had provided me with my lowest, most outrageous save ever, so on my glide out of there, Overconfidence might have been my copilot…. and Complacency my back seat driver…. I saw Charlie out front and below me, and another pilot turning pretty well, until I arrived. Then the lift disappeared and we scrambled to find a core. Charlie went right, the other glider went upwind, and I headed downwind to a golf course at around 1300’. No luck, try the junkyard…. Nope, 800’, there’s a cell tower, no luck, …. 500’ I can make that plowed field over there…. And when I turned onto base leg for a landing along the downwind tree line, I didn’t get the glider to turn left 90 degrees. Instead, I got kicked right, over the narrow tree line to a smaller, but acceptable landing field behind. I hit a piece of ridge lift off the tree line, or maybe a thermal, but I was low and needed to turn left almost 180 degrees into the wind to land. But I only got around 90 degrees, and had to level out and flare. The ground was screaming by and I thought I’d get away with a crappy skidding roll-out landing. But not in the freshly plowed and planted peanut field… the base bar dug in and end-over I went. Fast and hard and violent. I came to rest on top of the underside of my sail and when I pulled my limbs into a fetal position, I knew I had a broken right arm. I removed my helmet with my left hand after calling for help on the radio and got not response. My teeth and eyes had gritty dirt in them and I was glad to be atop my sail. I couldn’t move around much nor see a lot of my surroundings, but the wind was blowing harder than I anticipated and there was a small house 50 yds away. A road was in the direction of the top of my head, 75 yds away where I could make out only trucks going by while really craning my neck. My broken arm rested on my right hip and felt like five other people’s arms laying on me. Crunching, a lot. I had to think everything through since I couldn’t move too much. I called out for help a few times, but my voice competing with the diesel engine noise in the background sounded so pathetic and I didn’t want to start crying. I tried my PTT again, shouting into my helmet. No answer. I was lying on my radio/phone pocket and I’d have to prevent my broken arm from falling off my body to get at it. Slowly I rolled to expose the zipper behind which my cell phone was stowed. My Blackberry Storm, the buggiest, most frustrating phone I ever paid a ton of money for…. my only link to much-needed medical help…I picked that zipper open, one tooth at a time, balancing my arm, blinking sweat and dirt out of my eyes, choking back the sobbing I desperately wanted to lose myself in. Almost an hour had passed since my crash when I finally freed my phone. I brought it out to place a call to Bill Schell, driver extraordinaire, and saw it was in ‘camera mode’ partially, then it went snowy white screen and stayed that way. Oh god, now I have to reboot? I can barely get the battery out with two hands- now I gotta do it with ONE??? WITHOUT DROPPING ANYTHING??? I did get the battery out, using my teeth, and told the vultures circling overhead that I wasn’t quite ready for them yet. As the little clock timer thing spun around while the stupid phone did a soft-boot, I laughed inside thinking about the coroner having to pry a perfectly working phone out of my cold dead hands. Ten minutes later I was able to call Bill, and try to guide Mark, who thought I bled out hours ago, to the place where I was laying. I could only describe what I knew from the air, and they were near the junkyard I flew over. But frustration set in and I started bawling so I had a 911 operator get a GPS fix on me and relay it to them- and an ambulance. I had dropped the battery cover off the back of my phone into the dirt, and when the first-responders started running across the field towards me, I remembered to ask them to grab it before it got lost. I was so relieved to have help, it was 90+ out there and I was worried about shock and heat stroke and my arm falling off, but I immediately shifted to salvage mode. I remembered Tom Lanning’s account of his equipment being taken by the tide while his broken arm was tended to, and other stories of harnesses being cut off…. And then I told the first guy there not to cut a thing- if he couldn’t figure out how to get me out – then we’d wait for Mark. The EMT started arguing with me about time, and I told him I’d been lying there for more than an hour and I’d wait one more if it meant not cutting my harness… and by the way you’re standing on my SAIL, buddy!!!!! I was singing a way different tune, however, as Mark and the EMT tried to stabilize my arm while getting me upright. I was able to walk to the ambulance and they got me on an IV and morphine push really quickly. I don’t think they liked my new tune so I kept getting more morphine after every pothole they hit on the way to the ED. I’ve never broken anything big before, but the orthopedic guy they got off of the golf course to fix me had seen it a million times. Surgery the next day (Thursday, May 7th) was 2 plates, 16 screws, and around 20 staples to put 6 long slivers of humerus back together. Morphine, Percocet- everyone keeps asking me how can I wipe my own ass left-handed- but with those drugs I might never have to find out at all…..
Than you, Ben, for hearing my first call for help. And Mark and Alex for landing to come find me when he relayed it to them. And Rhett and Bobby for aerial searching. And Bill for driving and reassuring Meesha and breaking down my glider. And Jack and Nicole and Alexia and who else was there 20 minutes out of recovery???? I was sooooo loopy. And the guys at the Moultrie airport. The whole hospital staff (especially the nurses bearing Percocet!) Mark gave up the end of his meet to wash up my glider and get me back home. Bill left my car and my dog in better shape than he found them. And now all these people on Facebook and the internet that have said a prayer, given advice or just shared my pain some…. Wow. When the drugs wear off and the real mental healing begins, I’ll be drawing from all of you. I’ll need you. Complacency and overconfidence almost killed me. I hope someone learns something from me. Because if you can’t be a good example…. At least be a horrible warning……

Thursday, May 07, 2009


this is where i got to yesterday morning before my battery died....Hard to say where to start now since it’s been a while since I had a chance to blog. The end of the Florida Ridge meet was great even though the last day I broke my ‘goal streak’ but it was my best finish nevertheless. My driver, Bill, has been right there within just a few short minutes every time. With my dog, even.
The first day of the Rally was not so great for me. I should have left when I first got high and to the edge but I was hoping to be a bit faster and have some company now that my harness issues were seemingly worked out. Near the big lakes in central Florida, I went down. I had been so low on other flights and gotten up and I truly thought I would get up in this one field that had some big power lines. Alex radioed that he was landing a bit to the north at an airstrip, and as I was touching down I knew he and I were likely the only ones down on this gorgeous flying day. I was tortured by the cu’s as I broke down and Bill and I drove the rest of the way north to Quest. I had done this whole flight in reverse in 2007, but today, I was not even half way there.
The second day of the Rally was to Williston, 67 miles towards Georgia. I decided to just go when I felt good going and that sure worked out well- for a bit. I was alone, but it was a good flying day, predictable lift under the clouds and reasonable distances between. Even when my left shoulder started hurting, I thought things were going to turn out well. I was upwind and high and all was well. Then a long glide put me on the deck while Jonny and Ben specked out under a cloud. I had a tower to climb over and for a moment I imagined my boot catching on the tip. But I did manage to get up, only to find high cirrus had shut down a big chunk of the course line. There were only a couple of more climbs until I was looking to land, and I picked a beautiful field and had the best landing of my whole trip down here – of course because there was wind. Driver Bill, there on cue after picking mark up… drive the rest of the way to Williston. And what a great little town that was! At the Sweet Spot diner Tuesday morning, the waitress let me take Meesha out back for a hose down. There aren’t a whole lot of swimming holes around so that was all we had to cool her off. At the airfield, things got going fast. We had a HUGE 146 mile task with a quartering tail wind, and not a lot of time to get there with a thunderstorm near the end.
So day three of the rally, Bobby towed me a bit downwind, and then hung around in the Dragonfly videoing me – which I didn’t get at first why he was there- but I had a decent climb, gave a wave and he left me with a couple gliders going up pretty good. But downwind. Which should be the name of this flight. Not only did I have the actual courseline off the grid on my Garmin, at the end of the flight, I didn’t have I75 on my Garmin page because I was that far off to the east. Osceola National Forest was just behind me much of the trip, and made landing options and climb choices very interesting. I had my lowest save EVER I think, at 160K out, and tried to avoid lining up with Lake City airport runways for a long time. But eventually, the huge storm ahead, the lack of fields below, and the shitty lift towards courseline put me down in a field with a few cows, and one bull. My set up and landing were pretty sweet.
more later.... and pictures. i'm pretty laid up right now.

Friday, May 01, 2009

So how, after 3 days on a row of making goal, can I be in 19th place????? Ah speed, not my strong point. Today I fixed 3 out og 4 harness issues. I was way more comfortable, all the way zipped in, and a bit more head down. But I am so sore, so tired, that between WP3 and WP4 I was like- I'm done, I need to land... But of course I didn't. I'll write tomorrow about my flight, and post some pics while I'm doing laundry at Mom's, but right now, I am trying to see if I gained or lost in the standings by not making goal. Jeez, it was a tough day. I feel like someone has taken a 2x4 and beaten me with it. We'll see soon, the ceremony is just starting.....

I SWEAR PICS ARE COMING!!!!!

Third task, bigger than yesterday, 90 miles int he same direction with a couple extra WPs. Getting out of the start was interesting, lots of crappy lift and when I found something good, I suddenly had lots of friends. But the glide to the first WP was fairly uneventful, and then I got caught in no man's land with a few pilots and Mark left for greener pastures. I stuck around and never got a good climb until Steve Larsen hooked a ripper that I jumped into with him going up at 1400fpm. Rough ass climb however. Then getting the second WP wasn't so tough, but all along the way to the 3rd, over Arcadia, I lost all hope of getting to goal. I just kept concentrating on relaxing in my WAY uncomfortable harness, in which I can't seem to bump head down, and squeaking through as many Ks as possible. Every time I thought I was done for, I would fly upwind off courseline and fine a sunny dry field and each time I was rewarded by vultures and hawks and other soaring birds picking me up like puppeteers and raising me up to almost cloudbase. I was hanging with Steve a lot, but we'd leave at different times, eventually I saw him on the ground ahead of me and picked a nice climb just past him from 300m over the dirt. At base again, I knew I had WP3 for sure, and Lucas was way below me to pimp off of if things got bad again. The clouds were lined up nice the 30K to goal, and I pretty much flew straight all the way. I did stop for a climb at one point when I picked what I thought was the goal field a few Ks further than it actually was, and again was surprised to see a bunch of gliders in a field directly below me when Mr Bill called up to me. My landing was at least on my feet, but my flare late and I put a nice divot into the goal field. My body is beginning to feel like someone ran a big rolling pin right over it a few times. I am sore!

Which leads me to the fct that I am beginning to hate my harness. It must be rectified.... Plus I am waiting for Jonny to get up this morning to change my impossible to pull VG cord. I can barely get 3/4 VG on and my glides are so horrible. I spend too much time climbing because of my inefficient glides. But 3 days 3 goals, I am tired but happy....

Airtime 4:41

Miles: 90


 
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