| Author | Message | ||
     Stingaroo |
This is just a story of a few experiences I had in 2005 and how the Buell played a huge part. Feb 23rd 2005.- I was here at college laying in bed when I had a major migraine set in. I felt nausea, and attempted to get to the bathroom, the room started to spin as the floor came up to hit me. I thought maybe it was sinus related so I went to the college health center to get some painkillers, they did nothing for me. I was trying to stay out of the hospital as I had insurance through my mother, but she had lost her job. Feb 24 - Finally my girlfriend and another friend forced me into the car and took me to Indiana Hospital. They gave me a few CATSCANs and found a lump of blood on my left temporal lobe about the size of pea, but growing rapidly. They sent me down to Conemaugh hospital in Johnstown, PA to have it checked out. Upon arrival, I had multiple MRIs done and the pain kept increasing. My Mom, Dad, and my siblings drove up from Hanover that nite before I had made any decisions. Decisions- I was 23 at the time so the doctor asked me what I wanted done. The mass of blood had reached 2.5x 3.3x 4.5cms. He gave me two options, surgery, with a small % of living through it, and possiblities of having complete lose of memory, blind in the left eye, semi physical retardation, and lack of motor skills. Or I could live my last few days pain free. I kept my faith. Surgery. Feb 25th 2005. The lites flashed over head much the same as the yellow lines on the road on the way to the surgery room. They hooked the lines up, and strapped a mask on. The lites faded away. Wake up- I woke up in a bed, my legs had vibrators strapped on, making me feel like I romping around on my bike. I had a tube coming from the top of my skull to my shoulder with cereberal fluid dripping out, and a nice large backwards C on the left sid of my head, from my temple to below the front of my ear. The Doc came in and breifed me, said things had gone well, I was to stay in intensive care so they could monitor me. I kept wanting to stand up, the nurses kept me down, saying I probably was not going to be able to walk on my own for at least 3 weeks or so. The depression started to set in. In and out of morphine dreams, I had apparently taught the nurses how to read a military grid map, proper radio procedures, and the differences between the old tubers and the new XB's. 4 days later- The tube was removed andthey had given me a button to get small shots of morphine as I needed it. The nurses were shocked when I had taken it out and refused to use it, I like to have my wits about me. They brought me my lunch, pain pills and had turned on the TV for me in the middle of the day. My family, friends and girlfriend had left my bedside for a quick lunch. ESPN was on, and I heard the whine of motorcycle motors. I remember sitting up, taking off the leg vibrators, and stumbling over to see what was on the TV. I stood there for five minutes munching on a hamburg wondering if I would ever ride my bike again, when I spot some movement to my right. There was my doctor, 3 nurses, and my mother and father standing there. Two days later I was homeward bound. The story continues... Brian Cessna (Message edited by stingaroo on April 24, 2006) | ||
| Stingaroo |
When we got the the car, I began to realize just how much the sugery had affected me. I was in constant pain, it took me 4 trys to get my hand on the car door handle, my memory was extremely bad, but things were slowly coming back. When Dad figured out how to operate the CD player in my Blazer, it was Dropkick Murphy's Blackout album. I started singing along, remembering every word as I layed in the fetal position in the passenger seat. I kept trying to sit up to see the road, but my strength was pretty well sapped. Dad started telling my life story so I could plug in those little things I had forgotten about myself. It was a long and painful 3 hour trip home. First thing I did upon arrival was walk into the our shop to see the new seals that had arrived for my M-2. Prior and I had replaced the engine sprocket nut that December along with the primary drive adjuster. I had ordered seals for the shifter and the inspection cover since they started to leak and wanted to fix them. Dad of course pulled me into the house for the bedrest I was supposed to follow. We popped in home movies to help bring back memories of the past and went through pictures for many hours. Alex Prior was in almost every home movie and most of the pictures, he is like a brother to me. After watching one movie of him giving me a mohawk at a WW2 Reenactment useing a machete, flipping through pics of him and I on our bikes, in middle school, bars, and boy scouts, I called him up. We talked for many an hour, telling short storys, long ones, and some I had to ask questions about. The following morning, Dad woke up to find his son missing. He searched the house, for me, but to no avail. It was when he walked down stairs to see my shop clothes were not there that he knew where to find me. He walked out side to the shop walked around our 41 Plymouth, past the drill press to the back of the shop. There I was with tools scattered around me staring at my Buell. Lite blood was running down my cheek, tears covered the front of my overalls, as I stared into space. Dad stood there for awhile observing me as I did not heed notice to him. I picked up the screw driver again and could not figure out why it did not work on the screws holding the inspection cover on. I looked through the wrench set, and tried a 1/4" but there was no hex head. Then I stared at the handle barend mirror I had hit my head on earlier causing one of the 34 staples on the side of my head to start bleeding. Dad shuffled over and sat beside me on the concrete floor I had helped pour 14 years before. He pulled out the allen wrenches, explaining too me like he did when I was a youngster the differences between all tools. He took off the cover, and showed me the seal, and how to replace it. I sat on the bike after the work was done, it felt good, but I was scared of it. I doubted I would ever ride again since I could not put on a helmet and had to concentrate on everything I was doing with my hands, from eating to catching a tennis ball. It was at this time that my depression hit rock bottom. The shop I had helped built was foreign to me, the skills I had learned over the years were distant, I did not want to stay in bed for hours with nothing to do, my energy was low, I was not to be able to do the things I used to be able to do. I decided to wade through the depression and keep moving. more follows... Brian Cessna (Message edited by stingaroo on April 24, 2006) | ||
| Stingaroo |
I returned to college 3 weeks after my surgery. I stayed in my apt, professors from 3 of my classes came over to help me catch up with work. They were very kind, and shocked to see me back in such a short period of time. I started my own therapy while at college, I played old songs, went through photos, worked on my hand eye coordination by dribbling a basket ball, playing catch with tennis balls, and started to notice improvements. I brought my Buell back with me on a trailer, it stayed parked for a long time. I got on it, started it up, but could not build up the courage to put it in gear. It was waxed, shined up, but was nothing more then a lawn ornament for quite some time. As the semester was drawing to a close, I made some decisions. My girlfriend of 4 years and I had been growing apart, I decided it was time to end it, to give her a chance to grow herself. It was a sad time, she is a beautiful, fantastic young lady. We still talk frequently. My ETS date for the PA National Guard was 14 April 2005, and I wanted to reenlist. My 1Sgt knew how much I loved being a Forward Observer, and gave permission for me to come back. I signed up for another three years to see if I could hack it. It was after making these decisions I decided to go for a ride. I remember what my grandfather had told me, a decision is a decision, there are no good, no bad, you just live with the decisions you make. I put on my helmet, jacket, and gloves, and started the bike up. It was a beautiful day towards the middle of April, I figured now was as good of a time as any. I engaged first gear, let out the clutch and started for the best ride of my life. I pulled out onto the road and headed for an old stomping ground on 954 north out of Indiana, PA. (AWPRIOR would remember this road well) I proceded cautiously, but I gotta tell you, it felt unbeleivable. Depression went away, the world changed on that slab of asphalt, on the first corner, the I down shifted, using the engine to slow down, twisted about 3/4 through the turn, and kept going. The scar on the side my head was pulsing, but I could forget about it. The sun was warm, the Buell felt very comfortable. I was going to go for a short spin, ended up extending the trip with each corner, each passing tree, every note from the exhaust pipe. When I came back to my apartment, I passed out from exhaustion with a smile on my face. Upon returning home for the summer, I found I could not get a job. I was on a profile for a year under the doctors orders, but managed a miracle of a recovery. I had made it through the depression, stopped asking myself "why did this happen to me?" and decided to live my life as a new man. I spent alot of my time going for rides, getting over my fear of causing further brain damage. I worked in our shop wrenching on old cars, tractors, and bikes relearning what I love. My current girlfriend and I went to Ocean City for a few days. It was a refreshing time laying out on the sand, listening to the beach music of waves, and visiting the bars Prior and I used to frequent on our trips down. (remember the pizza run Alex?)We stopped in at Mike's Bike's one afternoon, talked to Steve Heller (OCbueller) for an hour or so. He was as excited to see us as I was to see him. I made it through my 3 weeks of annual training with the National Guard, made the rank of Sergeant, and was happy I did not fall out the whole time during our intense schedule. It was after this towards the end of August 2005 that I went out to visit Prior in Iowa. I remember flying out so excited I thought I was going to throw up, and upon landing in Debuque, seeing my old friend standing at the end of the ramp. After showing him my cool scar and a short drive, we arrived at his house. First thing we did was go take a peer at his new Firebolt. I bearly caught the helmet and keys he threw at me when he told me to take it out. I went up the road for a spell, then of course he had to go for a rip. I remember him riding pretty good wheelie as I called my girl up to tell here I made it safely to Iowa. After touring the John Deere plant, going for a trip to Galena, a few bars and pubs, a trip to the Field of Dreams to get Jerry Haughton a shirt, it came down to my last week in town. I went to fetch more beer out of his basement, when I came up stairs, he was on the phone, He handed me the phone saying someone wanted to talk to me, lo and behold it was Ferris Bueller! Jerry and I talked for a spell, about life, his son in the military, my brain surgery, and how we need to meet up sometime soon. Plans soon surfaced but were shattered by Katrina. | ||
| Jb2 |
Well Matt, we've never met but you tell a great story. Nor have I met Baby Bart(aka Alex Prior)but he's shown he can pull people all over the world to pool their efforts for something worthwhile. I was going to throw Ferris in this mix but I've already met him.  Hopefully, God willing, I'll get to meet the both of you soon and Dick and Barbara German too. | ||
| Stingaroo |
I arrived in Toledo late on August 31st,2005, grabbed a quick hotel room, removed my bags from the M-2, and crawled into bed. The next day I was to meet Prior in Naperville on the otherside of Chicago, so I figured a good nite's sleep would be called for. We were going to meet up, then head up to East Troy Sept 2nd to meet Erik, and Jerry at the plant. I had recieved a warning order over the phone from SSgt Thompson for a possible deployment the following week to Louisiana for the Katrina Relief effort. He told me I could keep on going, just keep my cell phone handy incase I had to be back early the follwing week. The next morning I called up Alex, we agreed on a meeting area, and I hit the road. Upon arrival on the outskirts of Chicago, I decided to pull over and fill up before I got caught up in traffic. I checked my phone only to find 43 missed calls. I called back Thompson, I had to report back to the Lewistown Armory the next morning at 7:00am for deployment to LA. I called up Alex let him know I could not make it, and turned the bike around at 12:30pm. I was on the road for about 10 miles, mad as hell I was not going to be meeting Erik, or Jerry, however I relized these good men will be around for years to come, and I was now going to assist those who lost it all. I made it back to PA in 12 hours, and headed to the armory for load up. As we were getting trucks ready for the long ride down to Katrina, I recieved a phone call from Alex, when he said the infamous words, "some one wants to talk to you." Next came "Hi Brian this is Erik Buell..", that through me for a loop. Although I was not able to meet the man, I was able to talk with him, which put a smile on my face I still wear to this day. When deployed, we were in Lafyette, New Orleans, Slidell, Jennings, Alexandria, and a few other places. That month I spent down there made me happy I had reenlisted. Words cannot convey the destruction, nor the iron will of the people I met to rebuild thier lives. We played baseball, and football with the kids, helped get a school back into operating order, cleaned up the streets, and set up points of distribution for food, water, ice and tarps. I was overwhelmed everyday, and was so thankful I had overcome pain and depression to help out. This year I decided to stop focusing so much on the past, and to accept the changes my surgery had brought about in my life. I am still passionate about my old M-2, my friends. I pray someday after I graduate from college and collect a few bucks I will be able to meet some of the Badweb people here in person. It was upon recieving an email from Ferris wishing me a happy birthday that I relized although I was not keeping up with the Buell community, I was still in the thoughts of some out there. I have been in a state of solitude for sometime, now I am rebounding back into world of friends, no matter how far away they are, and in sharing experiences instead of keeping them bottled up. Thank you for reading this, I just need to this down and share it. Take care everyone, be safe on your travels, in life and on the road. Brian Cessna | ||
| Stingaroo |
JB2, I am not Matt, but I know who you are talking about. I helped Alex get geared up for his trip for Matt's brain tumor. Alex was in a state of shock when he found out I was having brain surgery within a year after Matt had his performed! I am hoping to meet Matt someday too. Brian Cessna | ||
| Jerry_haughton |
Brian, i love you like a brother, and we've never even met. it's funny how BADWEB has brought so many people together over the years. yours is an amazing story, and i thank you for sharing. Alex has confided some of the details of your struggles, but i truly had no idea what you've recently been through. good on ya for makin' out the other side! i know we'll meet and ride together some day - we were THIS close at the Buell factory during FBRAT last year! - but until then happy trails, sir, and ride to lean. Ferris & Denise   East Troy, Wisconsin, as Buell's Bruce Champion, and Alex Prior and Dave Stueve listen in. photos by Ferris | ||
| Jb2 |
Brian, sorry about taking a big bite of humble pie at your expense. Such is life. The sentiment is the same. Go well and I hope we cross paths on this short ride. | ||
| Reepicheep |
Very cool post. Some people get to live. Others are *alive*. You are blessed at this moment to be *both*, and we are blessed to have you here. Thanks for the insight into life you gave me today. (Message edited by reepicheep on April 24, 2006) | ||
| Bluzm2 |
Brian, Great to hear from you again. I have printed your story for others to read. It is an inspiration. It also helps explain my obsession with all things and folks Buell. Take care my friend. You've come a long way.... Brad (Message edited by bluzm2 on April 24, 2006) | ||
| Prior |
Brian, Where to start on this one. You've been meaning to post it, finally did... I've had a few liquid brain relaxers by the river this evening, pondering life as I tend to do. I'm glad you shared this with everyone; it truly is an inspirational thing. I'd love to put what I feel in writing here, but to be honest; I don't think I can do it justice. We can all share that over a few beers in the near future. You get the two of is together, be prepared for a long story session. Many of you have not met Brian, and I guarantee the kid is a one in a million. Ask Erik. And Ferris. We've been brothers over half our lives, experienced damn near anything you can imagine. Started young backpacking the Appalachian trail, rolling sailboats in the Chesapeake and making firecrackers and have graduated to the military, college, tractor factories, real life and, of course, Buells. Can’t ever forget that first ride on the M2 that got me into this great group. As Ferris would say, it’s all YOUR fault. I know it can be hard to put things in the past to rest, but you have an awesome family and network of friends that can pull you through thick and thin, and you are the one that drives them. Never forget that. I know that you are an inspiration to those who you've not met and may never meet; the perserverence and attitude you show through all of this is what makes you the man you are. You graduate from college and the Badweb tour is on me. I’ve met quite a few of them, they’ve heard about you and want to hear the stories in person. Can't wait to rid with you again, good seeing you on Friday. Keep your nose to the grind stone. I love ya man, you are my brother. Prior A few pics from the first ride we went on with the Buells, the first taken at the Wheatfield in Gettysburg, PA, the second at Devil's Den, also in Gettysburg. These were taken a few days before July 4th, 2002. Who knew where life was going to lead us then...   | ||
| Stingaroo |
Thank you everyone for reading the story. I have been thinking of writing everything down, it was not until today that I felt I needed to start. It was yesterday that my bike actually broke down for the first time, in the middle of a ride back to school. (Ign Fuse keeps blowing) My dad came up and picked up the bike, a good friend came down from school to take me back. On that ride I was buzzing through a rain storm wondering if my rear tire was going to hold up after hitting a rather small animal with it. (rabbit i think) I called up Alex, he said kick the F'in thing, if it holds air you should be good. I kept on truckin, hitting sunshine and no traffic for all the twisties and mountains along the way. I made it to up Route 30 to Bedford when the bike stopped running. I managed to drift into a hotel, the nice gentleman there was nice enough to give me a free room for my 3 hours of waiting for my dad. I had alot of time to just sit and think with the exhaust notes still buzzin in my head. After a few phone calls I started recalling the past few years, the friends I have lost, the ones who faded away, those who unite in times of hardship, the heroes of my past. I have had alot of bad things happen to me, however I take my Dad's time tested advise to "Pick yourself up by your boot laces, son, sure you've been through the ringer, but you still have a few more rounds to go" Alex, The Ride is not over yet man, I had a few Guinness as well to relax this nite/morning. Those pics you posted, wow man, that was a long time ago. Thats when we built the prototype aircleaner for my Orange Crush, and I still had a V&H pipe on it. By the looks of it, that is the same day we stripped the rear fenders and extra plastic off the bikes, and we still have the old mirrors on! We spent a few hours in the driveway polishing them before we went anywhere back then. One of the greatest days I ever had was music related. I was in Baltimore March 15th to see one of my favorite bands perform, Dropkick Murphys. While sipping on a few Murphy's Irish Stouts, I had a chance to meet Ken Casey, one of the founding fathers and bassist for the band. I had sent him an email soon after my surgery thanking them for playing the good blue collar punk/celtic music I love so much over the years. I told him how I had recalled the lyrics to "Blackout" on the trip home from the hospital. Well, at the Ram's Head, almost a year later, he remembered me, came up and talked for quite awhile. He gave me a guitar pick, had a few pictures taken, gave me a poster and VIP passes for my girl, myself and my friends. It was almost like things had come full circle right there standing in that bar. As he was walking away, he told me to take a peer at the poster. "Brian your a Miracle, Keep the Faith, Ken Casey -DKM" Those few words in ink at that moment were enough to make me shed a tear or two.  Heres a pic of myself and Ken with the fist of trust. (Message edited by stingaroo on April 25, 2006) | ||
| Stingaroo |
Alex, if anyone gets the two of us together for a story session, we better have a cooler full of beer, a good view, a clean schedule for a few days and a place for a camp fire (we are pyros) With the bro I have, man I could never be so lucky again. Brian | ||
| Chauly |
Thank-you, Brian. That was beautifully done....as has been your recovery! Ride ON! | ||
| Stingaroo |
Brad and Chauly, Thanks guys, I feel a hell of alot better now that I put some things down in words. My girl, and my mother keep pecking at me to send something into Readers Digest! JB2, no worries man, I would love to meet Matt someday as well. He is still in our prayers. I am pumped up, ready for another summer at the farm and many more miles of riding! Brian |
