Sliding Time Zones…..

May 18, 2017 started with such aglorious sunny day for me in San Francisco. I had to await for the refrigerator technician that morning, so it delayed my departure for work. As the technician left, I was torn between driving to work (given the errands I was going to run) or cycling to work, as the day was just stunning. I took one last glance at my living room, with all my upcoming Denali expedition gear piled up, my mental checklist feeling proud to start the packing later that evening. I realized it was May 18th, one day short of my anniversary of summitting Mount Everest the year before. “Come on, Silvia” I told myself. “Do yourself justice, bike to work”.

I had 3 helmets lined out on my coffee table. 2 climbing helmets, 1 biking helmet. As I packed my backpack, a good 25lbs of weight, I looked at my watch — almost 10am — Time to go. I took my bike out of my deck, with the shiny new pedals I had just installed. I felt a rushing inside of me, “Hurry up Silvia, you have some meetings to start, plus you need to pack for Denali later tonite, leave now”. I just grab the bike, the backpack and my spinning shoes. Putting my regular shoes inside by backpack added the perfect amount of weight. “It’ll be a training ride” I told myself.

As I descended through the steep street of my house, got into the intersection of Steep and Steep (Portola and Burnett), one gorgeous look at the clear skyline of San Francisco. A view that on a clear day as today, never gets old for me. Light turns green and off down Market street into my office. As I was accommodating myself on the new pedals, I sensed a little bit of fear on the fit with them. As I encountered my first light, pulling off one of them was harder than I thought. Weird. At the second stop light, I felt a little more uneasiness. The 25lbs in the back of my back started to add up in terms of the sweating and nervousness. I figured, I should stop at the gas station on Market and Castro and adjust my pedals.

Picking up a little speed ahead of the intersection, seeing the gas station in front of me, but a truck blocking its entrance, “just veered of it towards the left, was the logical thought in my brain”. The logical and the last thought I remembered.

10am PST — May 18th 2017 — If you turn that time to a year earlier, to a different time zone somewhere between Nepal and China — at 26,000ft — it would have been 10:45pm May 18th, 2016 . I had exited my tent, adjusted my full oxygen tank and was just departing Camp 4 on the South Col of Mount Everest, attempting to reach my dream of summitting Sagamartha / Chomolungma / Everest.

Fast forward to May 18th, 2017 — and I’m lying on the road completely unconscious, awaiting for any Samaritan help. My bike had gotten stuck on the Muni tracks, and I, who wasn’t wearing a helmet, had fallen hard head first onto the road, with my backpack hitting my head as well. 7 Minutes brain dead, totally gone. Lost forever in whatever Universe they went.

I hear the close of doors. I wake up, with an oxygen mask on my face, totally lost. My favorite KUHL trekking shirt cut open, blood-ridden. I’m stunned, I’m confused, whose blood is it? Did I get into a fight? Did someone try to steal my bike? Did my “peace-driven” Aikido moves got me into trouble? I stumble on the gurney, the paramedics talking to themselves. I take my mask — “what happened?, what’s going on? I asked

“You fell off your bike, you hit your head really hard, you are bleeding, we are taking you to the trauma center, you likely have an internal hemorrage. Someone saw you on the road, they pulled you out and called 911. You are lucky we were around the corner, and got the call” “… also, What kind of an idiot who is about to Climb Denali in 10 days rides without a helmet too???” — that last part wasn’t them but the look in their faces clearly expressed it that way.

“Uhhh, I don’t get it. Why are we going to SF General? I’m climbing Denali in 10days, I need my bike.” — “You are not climbing anything, just rest, you are internally bleeding, rest”.

I was taken to SF General and immediately taken to the Zuckerberg Trauma Center for an emergency scan. Everything was happening so fast. I was scared, I need to call someone. “Where is my phone?” I asked myself. The last memory I remember was seeing the truck blocking the entrance to the gas station. After that, I had awoken wiith an oxygen mask.

I get out of the scan room and start asking for my phone. Then somehow start trying to talk to the people around me, “I’m climbing a mountain in 10 days, when will I be able to leave?” — Clearly my ego/confidence were unaffected by the brain injury. “Can I speak to a doctor?” — The doctor comes out and sternly looks at my and says, “Silvia, you have hit your head really bad, you are bleeding internally and we don’t know yet if we need to do brain surgery on you. In addition, we have found what seems to be a brain tumor. You are not going to go anywhere right now, so just relax” — I translated that to “Idiot, how the f you didn’t wear a helmet? You massively hit your head and also have a brain tumor, so fuck off and chill as you are going nowhere now”. — Silence. I guess I’m going nowhere now.

Within 20mins, another doctor, this time a very cute female doctor, came to stitch my open head wound. “I’m sorry, I going to cut a little of your hair and unfortunately I won’t be using anasthesia, so it might hurt a little” were her words. Hurt a little? OMG, the stitching didn’t hurt, but what hurt like hell was the cold hydrogen peroxide wetting my bare back. I can’t tolerate cold liquids on my body at all! I’d rather go shower-less on long mountain expeditions than experiencing a cold shower. My reaction made her laugh.

After she was done, I got my phone back and saw some texts from friends. Texted my dear BFF Jen — “At the ER — fell off my bike” and that’s all it took to within 30mins see 3 of my dear friends, Eve, Tucka and Elena at the ER making me laugh. With all their jokes and silliness being there, I had forgotten I also got a brain tumor to deal with.

I was put in a special room and now my other BFF Katherine had joined the fun. The laughter continued. Within 30mins it was time to head to the scan room again, say goodbye to these friends whom had kept me company. A new set of people would be arriving shortly.

I get back to my room, and within 10mins, a doctor joins with good and bad news. He says “…The good news is that we don’t need to do surgery on your head. It seems the bleeding inside your brain will find its way out without surgery. On the down side, we can’t determine the type of tumor that you have. It’s likely benign, but you can’t have an MRI with all the trauma you had today. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get that properly checked, I’m sorry.” I said it was ok and thanked him.

As he left, I was alone, relieved to be on my own, and started to cry. I have a tumor on my brain. Very unique, very special. What if it’s cancerous? What if it’s not? I still have a tumor on my brain.

Tomorrow would officially be my anniversary of having summitted Mount Everest, of having become the first female Peruvian, the possible first openly gay woman, the first Celiac, one of the few vegetarian-climbers — someone who managed an incredible feat few humans would ever do. But as of right now, I was lying on a room, at the SF ER, having to wait for a night not knowing how long ahead I would have to live. I told myself, it it’s cancerous, I’ll quit working right away. I’ll go climb anything I want. I’ll go eat anywhere I want. It’ll be the adventurous-goodbye-around-the-world-tour.

I was really scared, yet I prayed to my mom to protect me. And as I couldn;t find meaning or words, I just surrendered to what the present had for me, I was surrendering to the unknown. I graciously accepted and for now closed my eyes.