A 23 year old girl was killed, when she was involved in a collision with a car near the village of San Miguel today. She was a pillion passenger on a scooter driven by a 28 year old male companion. The scooter lost control at a dangerous bend and was then hit by an oncoming car.  The driver of the scooter is in a serious condition at Can Misses Hospital in Ibiza Town, where he has head and chest injuries. The occupants of the car were not injured but treated for shock at the scene. The injured man, named today as American Rob Mc Lendon, was later removed to the intensive care unit of the Lady of Our Rosary private clinic in Ibiza, as his condition deteriorated.

Update 15/7/11 As reported at 16.00 in Ibiza, Mr Mc Lendon remains in a serious condition.

Update 22/9/11  Below is a  Journal Entry by Rob Mc Lendon himself


Wow….where to even start after the past 8 weeks and after my brother’s superb writing. Not an easy task, but, hey, given what’s happened and the incredible support I’ve received from you all, I’m damn sure I’ll give it a go although I’ve chosen to take a slightly different tack than Jackson to retell the journey back to partial normalcy, at least the pieces I remember, from the eyes of the beholder. 
Before I delve into the noteworthy segments of the recovery process, it probably makes logical sense to provide you all with an update on where I am now. After about three weeks in Barcelona’s (technically Badalona) Instituto Guttman, I’ve now returned to my flat / apartment, for good, so I couldn’t be happier to finally have graduated from the “hospital lifestyle.” But….as much as I wanted to get out and return back home, the care, rehab and staff were absolutely phenomenal (although I was nicknamed “Forest” being from Alabama), and I witnessed a humbling aspect of life – i.e. from other patients in Guttman, I came to realize how truly lucky and fortunate so many of us are (especially me)…
Now it’s on to a more traditional rehab process, mainly building my fitness, working on my back’s recovery (which now feels much better after wearing a brace…but still notice it) and waiting for my body to recover with time. I can ride my bike relatively hard, lift weights, nearly run, throw a medicine ball with a bit of zip, hold some yoga poses on one foot with eyes closed (no laughing) and, apparently, my sarcasm has become more potent – for good or bad. 
So, in my mind, there has been good progress considering I did have to learn to walk again (I attempted to power walk the first time…epic failure) about a month ago. But I still have a ways to go with my back and left eye…trust me, the motivation is there to make the “comeback.” 
So, with the update above, we’ll migrate on to the….drum roll….next part…
After such an experience, you, without a doubt, walk away with some important lessons, memories and, hopefully, a bit more wisdom. Here are mine (in no particular order – save for one):
  1. It has been both breathtaking and refreshing to feel and receive such extraordinary devotion and attention from my family, the Brombergs, friends, colleagues and those supporting other patients in both Ibiza and Guttman. For me, such a display gives you faith in humanity and demonstrates the power of prayer and human connectivity. Without a doubt, we don’t get exposed to such unconditional love and care very often. 
  2. During one of my many night’s in the Ibiza hospital (relatively soon after waking up), I dreamed I was “asked” by the U.S. military to fire several rockets into space. In a medication / drug induced stupor, I literally got out of bed, IVs attached and all, around 3 a.m. to prepare the rockets and fuel for launch in the hospital room. Shockingly, I wasn’t able to locate the fuel or the rockets, and the befuddled nurse “suggested” we wait until 7 a.m. to fire the rockets which I thought would be a good idea (obviously) and went back to sleep. I was subsequently tethered to the bed…deservedly so. 
  3. Devout patience has likely been the hardest lesson to learn. Spending nearly 8 weeks in hospitals is not something that comes easy to anyone, especially a person who is accustomed to an active lifestyle. But, as time has passed, I’ve realized that patience and time are critical to a successful recovery, so time ticks on…NOT TO WORRY…I’m out and about trying to get back in the groove – one step at a time.
  4. Contrary to popular belief, a lifestyle consisting of drugs, eating, drinking and sleeping sucks. Period.
  5. One of the more striking memories I have is remembering people, especially my mom, speaking to me in the early days of my recovery when they likely couldn’t detect it. From reciting prayers to playing me Ludovico Einaudi (if you haven’t listened to him…you must…beautiful) to visitors coming to the hospital, I recall the comfort I had being surrounded by those supporting me through the fight of my life. 
  6. Apparently, the US military really needs me…in another vivid, drug induced slumber, I was kidnapped from the hospital, placed in a burning house, only to be saved by the US special forces. For some unknown reason, I blamed my brother for being kidnapped and at one point (in reality) yelled at him for it. Obviously, he was  slightly confused when I referenced the special forces and a burning house. 
  7. It likely goes without saying, but I strongly believe that those, from friends to colleagues to random acquaintances, you surround yourself with can have a powerful influence on the direction and outcome of your life. I thought it before, but it has been reinforced yet again….I feel as if I am one of the luckiest people on earth to have the cosmic group of friends and family that I do (it brings tears of happiness to my eyes when I think about it). Thank you all for being a part of it.
  8. Receiving several shots (i.e. the intravenous type…) a day isn’t fun but manageable. I can even give myself a shot now…I’m not sure how I should feel about that.
  9. Most importantly, losing someone as wonderful, loving and loved as Zoë is impossible to overcome, and I will never forget her. We / I can take solace that she’s looking down on us with that lovely smile from a beautiful place surrounded by everything that made her happy.
I cannot stress how awesome it is and thankful I am to have you all, and I know without the support I’ve received such a recovery would not have been as rapid as it has been. I know my mom and brother are equally appreciative. 
There are so many things I could say, but I wanted to keep the entry short saving the real sweetness for when the time comes that I see you all whenever that may be. Let the journey and adventure continue…and as one of my favorite bands wrote…”hope we live long and lucky.”
Hope to see you all soon and un abrazo de Barcelona.