Sending Seventy

Entering a new decade of life is always exciting. I find it pays to have a good sense of humor when it comes to aging. Admittedly, there are some things that are not sources of levity, such as the toll that 70 years of existence has taken on my physical wellbeing. Suffice to say, my ancient bones are starting to feel a little wear and tear. No worries, I’m too stubborn to throw in the towel just yet. I’ve got plans for the future which will keep me focused and motivated despite any anatomical uncertainty. I am vaguely cognizant of the fact that people often make plans while the cosmic intelligence laughs robustly.

Life can throw an unexpected curveball your way at any moment. I had to deal with a tough decision this past year. After living a couple of years with chronic pain in my right shoulder, as well as suffering from consistently poor climbing performance, I realized it was time to take action. Trusting the advice of a highly respected surgeon at the University of Utah Orthopedic Center, I committed to having an integral portion of my body removed and replaced with titanium and plastic. Once done, there would be no turning back.

The procedure was a full reverse right (dominant) shoulder replacement. A large portion of the humeral head was removed and replaced with a cup-shaped receptacle mounted on a long titanium stem which was literally pounded into the humerus. On the opposite side of my shoulder a titanium ball mounted on a plate was solidly fastened to the glenoid by four long titanium screws. Essentially, I’ve been screwed, glued and tattooed. The whole shebang happened on May 14th and took just over two hours.

I approached surgery like a hard redpoint project. I lifted weights, did prehab sessions three times daily, fueled my body with extra protein and doubled my collagen intake. I took time daily to visualize every aspect of my surgery, always focusing on a successful outcome.

Once surgery was behind me, I began visualizing the healing process. In my mind’s eye, I could see bone and metal becoming one. I imagined a not-too-distant future where my emaciated right arm would become as strong as ever. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but was determined to do whatever it takes to get back to climbing and normal life.

I’m now seven months post surgery. Following my doctor’s orders, I’ve committed to climbing indoors at the climbing gym three days a week. On “rest” days I’m strength training with weights. Life is good. No more pain in my shoulder. My aging body is recovering steadily. More than anything, I’m happy to be alive. Being able to climb again is just icing on the cake. After 47 years, I still can’t think of a better meaningless life pursuit than scaling silly rocks!

Now I have a $65k titanium right shoulder, which in theory, should outlive the rest of me. So far, it feels pretty damn good. In fact, it feels so good that I’m contemplating doing the same to the left shoulder. I’ve advocated for a balanced physique and currently I’m feeling a little disproportionate. I’m going to give it a little more time just to make sure. My hope is to sneak away with a hard project or two, prior to going through replacement trauma again. I thank science for the discovery of cortisone and modern medicine in the meantime.

Overall, I don’t feel a whole lot different than I did at 69, but who’s counting? I do like the slower pace of things now that I’ve attained semi-super-senior status. I feel no need to hurry anything since I’ve got the rest of my life, no matter how long or short that might be, to savor every moment. If I were to die tomorrow, I’d expire a happy human; however, that’s not the plan. My hope is to live to see 100 or more, as long as the quality of life is still present. I love being alive and I don’t fear the opposite.

The uncertainty of death makes it an exciting eventuality. No one can say what occurs once the heart and mind cease function. My hunch is that it will be one of two possible options; an epic journey whereby we become one with the cosmos, or, there is simply nothing. I’m okay with either option, not that I have a choice in the matter.

Contemplating the future of Team Odette, Maggie and I plan on being here in St. George until April, while continuing to work on rehab and strength at Contact Climbing. Maggie suffered an injury shortly after my surgery which required a biceps tenodesis. As luck would have it, we’re essentially on the same healing and recovery trajectory. Hopefully we’ll be ready to touch real rock sometime in April.

We will be returning to Maple Canyon in May to camp host for another summer. Hopefully we can wrap up a couple of nemesis projects while we’re there. It will be a little odd not having our blue heeler beast, Lola, with us. She was a welcoming Maple Canyon camp mascot and beloved family member. We lost her to kidney failure in September at age 12+. It was incredibly hard letting go of our loving companion, however, she was suffering and needed relief. We plan to wait at least a year before acquiring another rescue mutt to share in our nomadic adventures.

Sans canine companion, we hope to visit the not-so-dog-friendly Jailhouse Rock next winter. That’s if we don’t feel we can afford a possible international trip to some new exotic place, yet to be determined. Possible options include Australia, Greece, Spain, Thailand, or the Philippines. We’ll see what the finances look like next summer.

Living on a fixed income and dealing with the continually rising cost of living, despite what our current dystopian government would lead us to believe, has created a great deal of uncertainty. The key is to stay vigilant, educated, and mindful of what is going on around us, without succumbing to fear. Though the pendulum has swung far right, for the time being, it will soon reach an apex before returning to the opposite. This is something I’ve witnessed many times in this long life.

Namaste!

~Chuck

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6 thoughts on “Sending Seventy

  1. The six million dollar climber 🙂 Can they also replace human fingers with titanium fingers? Great to see you alive, curious and optimistic. Happy birthday wishes from the Frankenjura, Hannes & Marion

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    1. I like the titanium fingers idea, Hannes! I’m sure German engineering will come up with something suitable?! Come visit soon. Midnight Lightning awaits…

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  2. That is outstanding news, Chuck! Can’t believe its only been 7 months since your surgery.
    Very few climbers return to climbing at such a high level after RTSA. Your discipline and patience are inspirational and I hope to be able to follow in your footsteps, buddy! [Fingers crossed emoji]
    Lots of love to you and Maggie!
    Chris & Sarah

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    1. Thanks, Chris and Sarah!
      Chris, I know you’re facing a similar fate soon and can totally understand the apprehension. Your passion for climbing will guide you through this. It’s a step back for several huge steps forward in the long term. Plenty of life left for both of us, let’s make it happen!
      See you guys in Maple when healthy. In the meantime, warm wishes from Team Odette

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  3. I enjoy your posts about being an aging climber. I’m not far behind you in years. I’ve kept bashing away at climbing despite periods when it all seemed to fade away, such as through raising a daughter (initially as a single parent) and two hip replacements. I started spending a lot of time at Ten Sleep a few years ago (my wife and I eventually bought a house there) and I had a some stellar summers there where I climbed as well as I could muster. But I got a diagnosis of Parkinson’s Disease five years ago and over the past year or so the shakes, stumbles, fatigue, sarcopenia, and fuzzy headedness have chiseled away at me. I still climb modest grades but I’m feeling more defeated than victorious. So, its good to read your occasional posts to see you climb through the adversity of injury and repair, and to see that you remain optimistic.
    Good luck with the new shoulder, it looks a lot like my hips.
    Greg Child


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    1. Soooo sorry to hear about your struggles with Parkinson’s, Greg. This hits particularly hard knowing your incredible alpine/climbing accomplishments. I like to think we’re all invincible and yet, I know the stark reality is that we’re all fragile biological beings. Mags and I have watched your daughter, Ari, progress as a climber and now young adult. You’ve done a great job as a father, to say the least. Perhaps we achieve immortality through the positive influences we have had on friends and family, which is then passed on for generations to come. I like to think of that as an acceptable afterlife. Stay strong, Greg!

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