I suffered frostbite on all ten digits of my hands while climbing in Nepal in May 2000," recounts Robert, a world-class adventurer and mountain climber.  (For the sake of anonymity, he has asked to be referred to here by first name only.)
"The causes were a faulty oxygen regulator, high altitude, exposure, wind, and cold, and my injuries were exacerbated by continued bad weather, which delayed my evacuation by six days.
"Upon returning home to San Francisco (I remember it was a Friday evening in June), I contacted my personal physician, Dr. Randolph Chase, and told him about my injuries.  He mentioned Dr. Leonard Gordon, a hand surgeon he claimed to be the best in the country, and arranged for me to meet with him the following Monday.
"I honestly don't recall too much of that first meeting with Dr. Gordon, as I was still somewhat in shock and denial over what had happened.  I do remember his friendly smile and eyes, however, and having the feeling that I was in good hands, so to speak.  He drew some diagrams showing what the surgeries on my fingers would entail, but I really couldn't focus on what he was saying.  As I left his office and walked home, I was depressed, but I sensed that I was very fortunate to have been referred to him.
"The next day I was still in denial, so I made plans to fly to Alaska and visit with a frostbite specialist in Anchorage, Alaska.  The specialist, Dr. James O'Malley, basically reiterated everything Dr. Gordon had said to me and drew diagrams that looked quite similar to what Dr. Gordon had drawn.  During my time in Alaska, I made as many medical inquiries as possible about Dr. Gordon; those who knew of him gave extremely positive recommendations.
"When I went to see Dr. Gordon the following week, he started to outline what the initial surgery on my left hand would entail.  Even though I went into his office knowing that surgery would be necessary, I began to feel faint as he talked about the procedure.  Fortunately, Dr. Gordon has a small bed in his office, so I was able to move from my chair onto the bed before my legs gave out.
"Although I knew I had some very unpleasant days ahead of me, I also had a strong feeling that I could not be with a better doctor throughout the process.

On June 27, 2000, Dr. Gordon performed surgery on my left hand.  I was terrified and almost canceled my appointment that morning.  It was therefore very comforting that, as I lay in the waiting room before going in, Dr. Gordon came in to say hello.
"The worst part of the surgery for me were those few moments before I 'went under' from the anesthesia.  I felt as though I were spinning, and it seemed as if paint were coming down from the ceiling.  A Hall and Oates song happened to be playing on someone's radio in the operating room, and for some reason that particular mid-'70s pop song unsettled me.
"When I came to, I was in pain, but it was manageable.  I cannot overstate that it meant everything to have Dr. Gordon come up to me right then and let me know the operation had gone very well.
"A neighbor of mine picked me up and drove me home.  I ordered a pizza, took my prescribed medications, and actually slept quite well that evening.  There was pain for the next few days, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  The medication helped.
"The hardest aspect was emotional.  My mother insisted on flying to San Francisco to be with me; against my pleas for her to stay home, she arrived the day after the surgery.  I really couldn't talk with her about what happened on the mountain and what I had been going through since climbing back down to base camp.  When I tried to, I broke down.  I just didn't want her to see me in such a state.
"I was more relaxed when I next went in for surgery, on my right hand, in late July (although I had briefly considered taking flight and calling in sick shortly beforehand).  As with the first operation, Dr. Gordon took the time to explain the procedure and answer my questions.  The anesthesia 'took' much better this time—the room didn't spin and the paint didn't 'fall.'

The other godsend of the summer was Hand Therapy of San Francisco.  After my first session with Dr. Gordon, he introduced me to my primary therapist-to-be, Nathalie Delsaer, one of the kindest and most thoughtful individuals I have ever encountered.  She practices what I think of as 'tough love' on my fingers.  After a session with Nathalie, my fingers would hurt, but it was a good hurt.  (As the months have gone by, I've also been treated—and nurtured—by an incredibly talented group of therapists, headed by Pam Silverman.)

As I look at my fingers today, I'm enormously grateful for what I have.  I have ten functioning digits that are getting stronger and healthier every day.  Yes, I lost the ends of several of my fingers, but Dr. Gordon did an absolutely unbelievable job in saving so much of what is presently typing away on my computer.  I'm still trying to figure out how he was able to save so much.
"I'm back to doing—and treasuring—so many activities that I never really thought about:  cooking (still poorly); bathing; writing; reading; driving.
"While I'm not exactly back to climbing at a 5.10 level (some friends would suggest I never did), I can walk, hike, run, and bike with the same abandon.
"For the past month, I've had a near-daily ritual of riding my bike over the Golden Gate Bridge, up and over the Marin Headlands, and down to Point Bonita.
"As I'm flying down Conzelman Road, I'm yelling with joy.  It's so simple, and it means so much.
"I will always be so grateful to Dr. Gordon and Hand Therapy."