Phil and his cousin (Bob) and his cousin's wife (Ame) before his fall

On May 1st, I suffered what I can only describe as a freak accident in Massachusetts. Now I understand what the term May Day means, since I went down hard, like a sinking ship. Take it from me – take nothing for granted. Life can hit you so hard and so fast with a scenario you never expected that it can leave you seriously reeling. In my case, it left me temporarily unable to walk.

It only takes a few seconds. One minute I was on holiday with my wife, driving the Massachusetts coast from Boston to Salem after a wonderful family wedding the day before. We stopped to stretch our legs at a seaside park in Lynn. We strolled down to the edge of the water and down a few stairs to get near the sea. I stepped up onto a small rock ledge, then turned around to come down. That is when my whole world got kicked out from under me.

My whole life I have been active and fairly fit. I’ve built much of my life around physical activity and challenge. My nickname is “Restless,” because I rarely sit still for long. I always felt I had a bit of a shield around me in my outdoor pursuits, which range from mountain climbing to skiing and snowboarding to mountain biking, canoeing, sea kayaking, bouldering, hiking, backpacking and camping. I’ve never suffered a serious injury – other than nearly dying in a sledding accident at age three, when I ran head on into a tree and fractured my skull. I have survived many falls and crashes on skis, snowboards, skateboards, and bicycles. I’ve dodged rockfall and icefall in the mountains that seemed to be aimed straight at me. I’ve come through many close calls on the highway in my endless time commuting and road tripping. I’ve survived a thirty-foot rock climbing fall with only broken teeth. I’ve gotten out of serious redicaments while rock and ice climbing, and mountaineering. I even survived a near trampling by an angry moose.

So what happened May 1st? It’s a nightmare to think of, and basically inexplicable. I recall a bit of a slip of the heel of one shoe on the rocks. I braced to catch myself and heard a “pop.” I looked as I fell and saw my quad muscles bulge up under my skin on my left thigh. I went down on the rocks in pain. Panicked and in a daze, I tried to get up. Bizarrely and horribly, my right leg did the same thing! Now I was truly broken.

My wife, Alaina, was at the top of the steps and saw me fall. She says it was the same maneuver she has seen me take thousands of times, stepping down a rock ledge. She watched in confusion as I collapsed. I recovered my thoughts and yelled at her to call 911, which she quickly did. Thankfully, we were able to get help quickly from paramedics, who bravely carried me up the rocks and into a waiting ambulance. Within 15 minutes I was on my way to the Salem hospital. What I had managed to do in a few terrible seconds was rip both of the quad tendons in my legs, severing the connection between my thigh muscles and my lower legs. I literally cannot walk without legs braces and a walker. As David Gray sings, “a moment changes everything.”

Why did I fall? How could I have avoided this horrible situation? The one culprit seems to have been my footwear. I was wearing slip-on Clarks shoes with moderately smooth soles. This appears to have been my downfall, along with the random decision to step up on the rock, which I could have easily avoided. Otherwise, in some ways I feel like I was attacked by unseen forces. Something was there at Red Rock Point that did not want me there. I almost felt I was pushed. Or that I stepped through a portal into an alternate reality. Cosmologists say there may be endless alternative universes, each triggered off possibilities from one moment to the next. Somehow, I may have stepped into a bad alternative reality. We were also near the infamously spooky town of Salem, known for its nasty persecution of women as “witches.” In fact, we were staying in Salem. My mother’s side of the family has a long history under the Dolliver family name in nearby Gloucester, Mass. We were a seafaring clan. Who knows what sort of things the Dollivers got up to over the years. Piracy? Slavery? Accusing witches? Perhaps I am paying for my ancestors’ sins.

How do you make peace with such a swift, random and devastating accident? Was it fate? Chance? An act of God? A curse? Were my tendons and muscles just primed, waiting to erupt from so many years of heavy use? I really cannot say. At any rate, there are now many things I have done for the first time. First 911 emergency. First ambulance ride. First night in a hospital (since I was three years old). First surgery. First time on serious painkillers (oxycodone) that could be addictive. First time maxing out deductibles and out-of-pocket health insurance claims. First time in a wheelchair.

There are many things I took for granted which I now (temporarily!) cannot do. Walking without a walker. Going out of the house unassisted. Driving. Bicycling. Showering (don’t ask). Yard work. House work. Grocery shopping. Basically, all these habitual tasks we do day-to-day as ambulatory, responsible adults. Most of these tasks are impossible for me. So my poor wife Alaina is having to do most, if not all of it. I feel terrible to burden her like this and I am so grateful to her – I’d be lost otherwise.

Other things went wrong on this trip from hell. The night before the wedding, at a pub in Salem, I had a crown fall off my tooth. Not knowing what it was, I spat it onto the floor, then realized what I had done and had to find it under a table in a crowded pub. My wife and I also came down with a very mean respiratory infection that took 10 days to get rid of. Fortunately, it was not Covid, which is surprising, since quite a bit of Covid-spread took place at the wedding, including the bride and groom!

                                                                                                                                                                                      Phil recreating in past years

My work as a tour guide in Yellowstone feeds my soul as well as my bank account. This sort of active work is going to be impossible for me this summer and probably into the fall. I have also worked hard to get reservations for backpacking trips, camping trips, and a trip overseas late this summer, all of which have to be canceled. I had another trip in February, to Mexico, that was canceled due to Covid. My whole year of plans is canceled.

This is the hardest thing I have endured other than losing family members. There are not many moments when I can tune out and forget what has happened to me. It is confining and aggravating. The only consolation, and this one is huge, is that this is temporary. I will recover. A year from now it will seem like a long, bad dream.

The one big bright silver lining to my accident and the aftermath is learning and re-learning how much people care about Alaina and me. A long life well lived with many, many friends and family members going back many years is more valuable than gold. People have come out of the woodwork to offer money, food, words of wisdom and support, help getting necessary equipment, wheelchair rides, visits, yard work, and just overall support and love. It has been overwhelming. I can see a shift in my life happening where I will try to give back more to my community once I am able. I am never going to be able to repay all the kindness and assistance—and love keeps coming our way. But I will do my best to pay it forward, once I am back on my feet.