One year ago April 24th, 2006 dawned rather auspiciously in the life of one Gene Connor. It was the first time in my life I had ever had surgery of any kind. Well, that is if you don’t count the numerous times I’d been stitched up for various youthful mishaps.
This time was different, though - this time it was scheduled. My wife has undergone surgery for various things before (not the least the births of our children), but I had never experienced the surreal experience of lying awake in an operating room while someone operated on you.
The idea was to repair ligaments in my right ankle that had been damaged many years ago during a production of West Side Story. What we thought at the time was only a partial tear turned out to have been a full tear. Over time, as I rehabbed from that injury, I learned to compensate. But I could never fully get up on relevé in dance class (those of you who have been following might remember I used to be a ballet dancer and musical theater performer). Nevertheless, I developed significant lower leg strength to compensate and to help me get through my career. It was while warming up for a performance of The Nutcracker that I felt a pop on the inside of my ankle, and after that I began to experience pain that sometimes was too much to bear.
However, I ignored it (as dancers are wont to do) and kept on for another year and a half before I decided to see someone. I tried physical therapy for a while, but it didn’t really work so I went back to gritting my teeth and bearing it. I finally ended up seeing my uncle-in-law - Dr. Arthur Gudeon, a major New York area sports podiatrist - who thought it was a bone spur causing the problems. He thought surgery might be the only answer, but suggested I see a colleague of his from the College of Podiatry - Dr. Barney Martin. (Yep, Doc Martin - I kid you not.)
Dr. Martin took x-rays and MRIs, and discovered that it wasn’t anything that had been diagnosed before. Basically I had a non-functioning ligament on the outside of my right ankle that was allowing so much lateral movement that I was wearing away the lining on the inside of my right ankle - hence the pain, bone on bone.
So on April 24th he went in and repaired the ligament. After removing all the scar tissue he had to sort of crochet it back together. I started physical therapy a few days later. Six days after the surgery I participated in a March of Dimes walk-a-thon in a wheelchair. If you look at my Facebook picture, that’s when that was taken.
Amy and I had already discussed the idea of Connor’s Army at that point, and we knew we wanted to do it; but we also knew that with the surgery there was no way I could do the 2000 miles we set as the goal. By then I had commuted about 400 miles and I knew I wouldn’t be able to commute again until June - if I was lucky. So we decided the 2006 calendar year would be a “dress rehearsal” to see how much I could do. We counted the miles I commuted to Usdan in the mix to sort of make up for the two months I was out of commission.
Dr. Martin gave me the clearance to start working on a trainer in the basement at the end of May and by mid-June he cleared me to go on the bicycle. In the meantime I went through a lot of physical therapy at Northport Physical therapy under the firm guidance of Mary English. It if weren’t for her pushing me, I wouldn’t have been able to bounce back so quickly. It did help that I was in pretty good physical shape before the surgery, and that afterwards I was determined to get back on the bike as fast as possible.
In the end I was able to put in another 1280 miles with my commuting to Usdan and to school in the fall - my goal was to try to reach 1500 miles and we were thrilled when I passed that goal.
Which brings me to now.
It’s been exactly a year since my surgery and I’m in full swing with the Connor’s Army ride. We’ve had such an outpouring of support from our supporters, our sponsors, and even from the press. It’s four months into the ride and as of today I’ve logged just a tad over 600 miles of commuting - not bad considering the weather has just now gotten better.
I’ve begun taking a different route home that adds three miles to the evening commute and makes me climb one of the baddest hills on the north shore of Long Island - Snake Hill in Cold Spring Harbor (if anyone knows of another in the area let me know). I’ve climbed it five times now in the last two weeks and my average climbing speed is about 9 mph. Not bad considering that a year ago I was lying in bed with lots of painkillers in me hoping I’d be able to ride and dance again.
What has this to do with anything?
It’s been a long year full of ups and downs, and a long trip to getting me in the physical shape where I am now commuting close to a 100 miles a week. But it’s all nothing compare to what other people have gone through and continue to face.
The people I think about when I’m climbing Snake Hill Road in the 70 degree heat are my mother who’s dealing with Merkel Cell Carcinoma and has to be monitored every six months, our very good friend Michelle who goes into surgery on Monday after having suffered through eight rounds of chemo, my sister Angela who’s almost two years cancer free but is still dealing with complications, and my colleague Randi Sachs’ mother who goes into surgery tomorrow to remove lymph nodes and find out how treatable her lung cancer is - these are people who know what pain is.
As I say on the web site, “every drop I sweat will be in gratitude for Winnie, Angela and TaMara. Every hill I struggle up will be for my children. Every mile I ride will be to help beat this disease that ravages the lives of everyday people”. This past week has reminded me of that fact in spades.
I’m so grateful for the fact that my wife and children are healthy and beautiful and active. I appreciate every day that I come home from my ride and I see them running to meet me at our front gate. A year ago this website and this fundraising experience were just an idea - now we’re well on our way to our goal. We have further to go, but I’m grateful for every mile on the way and everyone who has helped so far on the way.
Peace to you all and stay well.
