Better Days Are Here Again
By Ed Hula with photos by Sheila Scott Hula
Life returns to a more normal state for both me and Sheila.
Six weeks ago we returned home from a harrowing ordeal at the Paris Olympics. A near-death experience for me, a distressing crisis for her. Since then the warmth of Florida seems to be melting away the pains of Paris. Your good wishes are speeding our recovery, too.
In case you missed it: a sandwich served in the media snack bar at the Grand Palais fencing venue on day seven of the Games erupted into a weekend of gastric distress. Somehow this morphed into pneumonia when “stuff” got into my lungs and I was unable to expel the infection. We called for help as I realized I might choke to death if I went to sleep.
A battalion of pompiers et saiveurs soon swarmed our tiny flat as I battled to keep breathing. The first responders had their own struggle getting me down six floors to the ambulance. Our flat was on the top floor of a Haussman era building, with a matchbook size elevator and a tightly wound spiral staircase. Today I cannot recall how we got outside to the two vehicles in the building courtyard. Sheila tells me that a couple of floors down I lost consciousness and the first responders laid me out in a tiny hallway while they worked out how to get me down the narrow staircase.
The massive Hospital Georges Pompidou on the south side of Paris was the destination. It would be the place where I would spend the rest of the 2024 Olympics and beyond.
Thanks to the excellent care of the doctors, nurses and aides, I began to overcome my medical crisis from the first day. It wasn’t easy. It would be a week before I could drink water again or eat the yogurt and applesauce that comprised nearly every meal when I was allowed to “dine”. On top of it all, I tested positive for Covid.
It is fair to say that I missed the Olympics that we hoped would be our farewell tour. Instead, I saw the action from the French perspective on a TV in the ICU, including the closing ceremony. The whole tableau was clearly a first in my coverage of the Olympics since 1992. A dubious first.
While I was cheered to be out of the hospital in late August, the extended stay dealt a setback in my ongoing rehabilitation from hip replacement surgery I received in early May. A stumble shooting hoops caused a fall that shattered my right hip. In Paris I used an electric scooter to commute to the Main Press Center. My repaired hip improved daily — until my hospitalization. After two weeks of life mostly in bed, getting back on my feet was the biggest challenge.
Six weeks later, there is world of difference. My stride is improving daily. More and more I walk unaided, without even a cane. Swimming in the pool is a daily occurrence. So is a return to household chores, much to my partner’s glee. Daily dog walks with Buddy are next. They will be the first in five months.
I’m not jumping around a basketball court any more at the YMCA here in Mount Dora. But with the help of a personal trainer I am building back the muscle strength (and more) which suffered not only in Paris, but in May when I was in hospital and recovery for nearly three weeks following hip surgery. Physical therapy is helping, too.
The dozens of posts to Facebook and other platforms are most appreciated, expressions of love we want to mutually return. The posts I read from friends and colleagues as I languished in a Paris hospital room were comforting and most welcome. The power of your goodwill is one of the reasons I am here today to say thank you.