a little story written to myself for understanding
the circumstance was so strange that I’m almost unable to describe it to you. I was so dizzy. the picture coming from my eyes was surreal, a camera obscura. my field of vision so limited as to encompass only the closest. my consciousness so tedious that only the very immediate entered my thoughts but exited without understanding.
I recall a man’s face within my field of vision. moment to moment I told him I knew him. later I would understand that my brain was searching for any recognition of my surroundings, except that I had none. no idea where or why I was. the face, so familiar at the time, was being remembered with each passing second in contrast with memories from past to present. suddenly there was no past, and the present was completely bounded by a buffer of shock. a simple statement, "I know you," followed a minute later by, "I know you." I could no more tell if my head were stationary than I could tell if it were bobbing, reeling, moving about. something deep inside was groping for lucid thought, movement. it was not a conscious or voluntary action, rather an extremely primitive reaction from somewhere within the animal. a man who refused to stay down, who refuted unconsciousness, and who couldn’t possibly conceive of his injury struggled for understanding.
within an inestimable amount of time, my field of vision increased to include paramedics running toward me. voices. harried, panicked. sympathetic voices coming from outside the realm of the immediate. the voices came from someone else, so I couldn’t understand their language for several moments until I heard someone ask me if I could be positioned for transit to an ambulance. "can you make it up this hill? try to step up. can we fit the bike in the back?"
I knew my name. I knew where I lived. I knew my phone and several other significant numbers. I remembered that I was a student. I was sitting in the ambulance with my back to the front of the truck. although the vehicle was moving, I only recall being shocked by my responses to questions. the I.V. was cold as it entered my arm. I couldn’t stand at all on exit, and then suddenly I was surrounded by white light in an enclosed space.
lying on my back with my head elevated, I was prodded and poked and positioned on a table. I could see that the table was no longer white. voices moved about me, but then faces and shapes were recognizable. no one smiled. I felt damp, wet in fact and getting wetter. not realizing that I was completely covered in blood, the damp feeling was my own blood and I was being sponged by a nurse to verify the location and extent of the lacerations to my face and head. I couldn’t tell her what was injured, only generalized areas of concern. I was beginning to feel the extent of the head injury, although I didn’t yet have the presence of mind to survey my body. it was simply still attached, the recognition of which was made possible only by pain.
until now I hadn’t realized what had occurred. I was a bike rider. I was wearing my typical uniform of black decente pants contrasted sharply by stark white socks and a white cotton t-shirt, except that now the color of fresh and coagulated blood blended the once clean contrasts. the police report was correct: ’biker down / blood everywhere.’ I’d prepared for my first ride of the season through the semester just passed, religiously training indoors on rollers, prefaced by hours of stomach crunches, pushups, and some work with free weights in anticipation of four hundred mile weeks through the summer on my bicycles. I was tanned pre-season. this had been my first long ride of the season outside, having been relegated to a desk to complete my last full semester of college with style and flair taking an eighteen hour equivalence. I was having the time of my life: a 4.0 for this semester’s classes, a ninety degree day, high winds. I felt confident mentally and physically, a feat for which I had worked over the prior three years. I had or would very soon achieve all my intermediate goals, personal and academic. my family was intact and on my side. I had seen and survived the death of my biological sister. I was thinking I missed dating after taking the longest sabbatical of my life from women in response to ending a tragic six year relationship. no more was I fighting existential depression. I’d not been depressed for months, and my therapist felt I should begin a weaning process after three years on the couch. having completed my first real ride, I couldn’t take the smile off my face as I rode a quick loop around eban fine park in the foothills in Boulder. I was fairly certain later that I’d removed my helmet since no harm would befall me on a bike trail [although it too was covered inside and out with blood], and I remembered exiting the park. I reduced my speed because I had seen a couple of women wheeling their infants in strollers on the path prior to riding the loop through the park. my computer registered eleven and a half miles per hour, and it was just before two-thirty in the afternoon. my last recollection had been of a sweeping right hand turn. now I was lying on my back in an emergency room, completely immobilized, head injured, covered in my own blood, and only now realizing the extent of the damage from an accident of which I had absolutely no memory.
an er doc listed the apparent injuries, immediate concerns, and the course of action to be taken. the skin on the right side of my face from forehead to chin had been sheered off, with deep lacerations emerging from my right eye. half of my eyebrow remained. my forehead was impregnated with gravel, and my cheek had been lacerated in two places. there was little skin on my nose, above and below my mouth. although already exhibiting two inches of swelling, facial and jaw bones remained intact; I had not broken my face, nor had I lost an eye or any teeth. I had severe whiplash, compressed vertebrae, and a severe concussion with possible brain injury, but apparently I could have been a boxer. my right hand, while ripped and torn, was intact but held together loosely with severe damage to the soft tissue and tendons. my shoulder and hip had deep abrasions but were the least concern. my right leg was missing skin from ankle to knee, with deep gouges and holes in the knee. the knee was structurally intact, and the impact points apparently would cause irreparable damage. the little hand on the clock on the wall was on the three and the big hand was moving past the four. I had been unconscious for about half an hour before the ambulance had arrived.
I remember being told that my body had been somewhat sterilized, and that I was given a local anesthetic around my eye. I couldn’t receive pain medication for quite some time because of the head injury. I recall a nurse advising something about the next step being the most difficult part. it was necessary to reduce infection and scarring. she approached with something looking like an extremely large toothbrush.
I recall vividly each minute of the next four hours. gravel was removed from my forehead, and we spent a lifetime scrubbing dirt, sand, and gravel from face. this eternity lasted about two hours, after which the nurse told me she was uncomfortable continuing because of the pain she knew she was inflicting. we would work our way down my body, alternating between shoulder and face, hip and face, and proceeded to my leg. the ritual worked well for me, especially in light of the fact that I now recognized the rest of the injuries were progressively further from my brain and therefore less painful, not so much by strength of will but by physical reality. the final round of this sadomasochistic ordeal ended with the announcement that the nurse felt she would only cause more harm than good, and a plastic surgeon surveyed the work, pronouncing it so productive as to show me my reflection in a mirror while telling me how much better I looked now than on entry. I couldn’t imagine how she could possibly place stitches in the hamburger that remained, or how they would hold when she actually did. we then dressed the leg and covered everything else with layers of antibacterial ooze, and proceeded to see if I could stand. I made a phone call, leaving a hopeful message with a good friend’s special needs child. I couldn’t help but laugh when I advised the nurse who had so courageously kept scrubbing in spite of my occasional whimpers that she couldn’t possibly make too many new friends this way. she laughed when I apologized for my watery eyes, and told me that they sedated most people who were admitted for twenty minutes of this treatment because they couldn’t stop screaming. apparently I had been amazing for not breaking under hours of torture, and this had been the reason for the audience staring through the door. I had barely noticed them, except for the one with stamina enough to have been eating a sandwich.
still in the treatment room and insulated from the outside world. An orderly asked me of the accident. I was embarrassed for the first time when I admitted that I had been on the bike trail. "lie," he said. "it’ll make you feel better and you can get away with it." as we laughed over potential strategies to describe an incident about which I would never regain memory, I felt lucky for the first time simply to be alive. my skull had not fractured. I had been in a well traveled area, and someone had the presence of mind to stay with me until help arrived. I was able to stand just four hours after the ordeal. I was being told how lucky I was.
I walked into a little waiting area and was recognized by my neighbor, a nurse at the hospital, who stared and asked questions I couldn’t answer. it was on my way back to the treatment room that I began to realize the gravity of my condition. I became even more self-aware when my friend arrived with his daughter. she ran toward me with a big smile and open arms in anticipation of a hug from her friend mark, but that changed dramatically when she saw me struggling for the balance I apparently didn’t have without movement. her expression was of terror, and she began to sob uncontrollably. er docs and nurses literally watched with open mouths as I walked through the hallway to retrieve my bike that I only then remembered was with me. I was suddenly outside for the first time. I had to laugh again when my friend’s daughter finally explained why she refused to get in his truck beside me. she was afraid I was going to bleed on her.
I wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital without someone to observe me for the next several hours, so I felt very fortunate to have found someone to get me the hell out of that environment. I was still in shock when we dropped my bike off at my place. I say that because I somehow managed to put a sweatshirt over my head and drive over to my friend’s house where we drank a couple of beers and took a polaroid of my face all cleaned up and fresh out of er. I was supposed to have someone wake me every two hours, but neither the alarm clock nor my friend were necessary for that. the pain was intense enough to keep me up through the night. the next morning I called the student hospital and began a series of appointments since I didn’t have the presence of mind or the inclination to clean and replace my dressings, especially the ones on my face.
then another extraordinary event occurred. I had a friend stopping through town on her way back to boston from a vacation with her parents. I had no idea where they were staying and was unable to warn her that the visit should be cancelled, and this disservice proved to be the best imaginable circumstance. while I wasn’t able to find anyone available to retrieve her from the airport, I managed to drive to passenger pickup before collapsing, having called in a page for her to meet me in my car so as not to expose myself to any more than was absolutely necessary. tears swelled when she realized the reason for the page, but she proceeded in the following days to effortlessly assume the role of nurse, nanny, confidante, and police for my attempts to do the wrong thing like attempting to stand, which caused so much pain that I could only wait the required minutes for the throbbing in my leg and head caused by movement from a horizontal to a vertical position to subside. the concussion had taken its toll, and I would routinely forget about the consequences of such actions. she was there to remind me. she was there to hydrate me. she was there to watch my position as I slept. she walked me outside when the pain medication I was finally able to ingest made me feel like I was in respiratory arrest. she packed me into the car and drove me back to the hospital for my daily visits. I’ve no idea what I would have done without her. I watched as one of the strongest women I know began to cry when she left. thank you sharon. and bless your heart.
in the following weeks my only exposure to the outside world occurred during my daily visits to the hospital. that includes visits and phone calls from friends, who were markedly absent during the whole ordeal. sharon called routinely to check on my progress. other long distant friends were also concerned with my condition. my parents were supportive, but clearly refused to recognize the severity by their comments. I assume that people stay away at these times because they fear their own mortality, but I make no excuses for anyone anymore. the most impressive of reactions came from people totally uninvolved in my life, but who had the opportunity to help a human being in need. only on essential errands did I expose myself to anyone, but I must say that people out there really came through for me. people dropped whatever they were doing to help me when they recognized that I shouldn’t be in their arena or the outside world. in every situation in which I’ve become accustomed to either an inconvenience, a wait, or a line, I found that those involved were totally sympathetic to my cause. I’ve never been hustled through more lines or gained immediate admittance and exit in my life.
I healed amazingly quickly. everyone was impressed. the facial stitches were out within a week. all but the deepest holes in my leg were covered amazingly quickly, but just as I was feeling superhuman a dark feeling surfaced. I wasn’t ready to get outside or begin an exercise regimen, but I attempted it anyway. I geared up and rode back to the scene of the crash to see if riding along the same route I’d taken just before the crash would jar my memory. I rode the path back and forth, stopped and walked the trail. nothing. I managed to split the scabs covering the major holes in my knee, however, and I discontinued training as a result. still confident that the major damage was on the surface and feeling better every day as a result, I felt I should discover the reality behind the accident. apparently, an anonymous woman ran across the street to an office building to request a 911 call. interviews with everyone throughout the building proved fruitless. no one had actually seen the crash. the police report was vague and written after the fact: "biker down / blood everywhere." the paramedics were concerned only with rushing me to an emergency room and weren’t of a mind to interview people at the scene. I had no choice but to resign myself to the fact that I would never recover the memory as was suggested to me in er.
everything was covered with fresh tissue, but I felt so immobile that I almost wished that blood was still oozing from my wounds. just before I was able to sink into a black hole from the accident recovery and memory loss, I realized that the feeling was more than mental. I could barely move my neck, and my right hand wasn’t holding together as well as it should. while recovering from the topical concerns I thought that I was simply becoming weak from inactivity. after all, I hadn’t been able to move very much for a few weeks, but this was different. it was then that we examined the nature of the internal injuries in relation to the primary impact areas as evidenced by the external damage. I had been riding with my hands spread over the brakes on top of the drops with my thumb over the top, first and second fingers on the brake lever, third and forth wrapped back on the drops. my feet were secured in clipless pedals. it was in this position that I remained on impact, and the bike was apparently off the ground as the whole production pivoted in a clockwise direction. as the bike was virtually undamaged, it was clear that my head hit first, slowing the impact of the rest of my body except for my leg which shielded the bike. the fingers in my right hand apparently splayed apart on impact. the cause of the fall was left undeterminable.
I was feeling the limitations of the internal injuries and was only now able to isolate them and recognize the full extent of the damage to my body. my neck was of primary concern, although it was also the quickest to recover once I completed the batteries of tests and x-rays and therapy began. the vertebrae and discs were compressed but not all internally cracked, and there was no permanent nerve damage. It was less annoying to me than was the damage to my hand because I was so accustomed to limited movement anyway. The hand was a different story altogether because all of the tendons holding my fingers to knuckles were stretched like so much loose thread, and my fingers could actually be pulled out of their knuckles. I couldn’t open a door knob, much less twist open a beer. I learned to shake hands with my left, and have been involved in therapy ever since. I’m doing it still.
I finished my summer semester classes with a 4.0 in each, and graduated in august. the crash and resulting trauma didn’t allow me to pursue the job market as soon as I would have wished, and I’m feeling the effects of the delay. although still not gainfully employed, I feel confident that my current efforts will succeed.
six months after the initial crash I tried to break a frozen sausage in half, pulling my middle finger out of it’s socket. it was disappointing at best. my neck is no longer an issue, although the damage to my knee becomes obvious when under the stress of skiing. I’ve been out of the sun for six months, and will only attempt exposure after one full year so as to reduce permanent pigmentation issues with associated new tissue on my face. physically, I make an entirely different shape now than I did, although I have every confidence that I will improve this quite soon out of frustration stemming from the attachment of my physical to my mental condition.
it took a rather extreme example for me to realize how quickly life sometimes moves. the experience forces my accommodation of ideas and a mentality that I’ve long forgotten, that being the realization that I’m not supposed to die just yet. there remains some thing [or things] for me to accomplish. I’ve no idea why, but I now believe I’m here for some purpose. the idea used to come from a belief in predestiny. perhaps it was just ego and ignorance of youth, but I’ve always believed I was here to accomplish something more grand than just having lived a life. something more significant like a legacy. Or perhaps the reincarnation / suicide prevention mantra is real. perhaps I need to get it right this time because I don’t wish to return to do it all again.